“You have been?” I put down my drink and stare at him. “When do you have time to watch?”
“I’ve had it on in the background while at work. Not when I’m with patients, of course.” He grins. “Though Gerald the ferret did seem interested in your demonstration of color theory yesterday.”
“I hope not,” I laugh, and the movement makes my chest twinge with pain. The familiar ache starts just below my sternum, radiating outward like spilled dye spreading through water.
Oh God. I can’t have a pericarditis flare here. Not now, on this perfect night. Not when everything feels so right.
I take a careful breath, not too deep. Sometimes that helps. Sometimes it makes it worse.
“I’ve been watching other channels too.” His voice sounds distant now, like he’s speaking from the other end of a tunnel.He draws his knee closer to his chest and hooks his arm over it. “Especially that embroidery-floss-organizing one. Did you know that it’s her full-time job? People send her their tangled collections of floss, and she organizes it for them, then mails it back. It’s crazy! How does that kind of job even exist?”
I force myself to focus on his words, using them as an anchor. “There are even wilder ones out there,” I manage, my laugh only slightly strained. “The internet has opened up a whole new universe.”
“I don’t want to know.” He cocks his head, studying me with those intense eyes. “Wait. Maybe I do. On a scale of one to ten, how weird are you talking?”
“Forget about it.” I dig into the seaweed salad, the vinegar sharp on my tongue. Maybe eating will help. Maybe it’s just anxiety. “If you’re asking, you don’t want to know.”
“Then I’ll take your word for it.”
“But what about your work?” I put my plate down. I’ve only eaten a few bites, but being so close to Sebastian makes me feel like a giddy schoolgirl. I’m way too excited to eat much more. Plus, the pain is making me nauseous. I press my hand against my stomach, hoping he’ll think I’m just full.
He blows out a long breath.
“Sorry.” I wince. “Should I not have asked?”
“No, no, it’s not that. I love my job. It’s just a lot. Especially with the emergency clinic and getting the sanctuary off the ground.” His shoulders tense, and I can see the weight he carries.
“Have you had any more stray kittens come in?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood while shifting positions to ease the pressure in my chest.
He chuckles, the tension easing from his frame. The light from the flameless candles dances in his eyes. “No, but a woman did bring in an opossum.”
I gasp, grateful for the distraction. “Really? What was wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It had been eating her cat food, and she just wanted to bring it in for a checkup. Make sure it was okay.” He shakes his head, clearly still amazed. “She’d named it Cornelius.”
I whistle, then immediately regret it as pain spikes through my chest. “That takes being a cat lady to a whole new level.”
“Maybe that’ll be you one day.” He grins wickedly, and for a moment I forget about the pain. “First, you start with one cat, then?—”
“Hey.” I hold up a finger, trying to keep my breathing shallow. “I already told you. I’m not keeping the kitten.”
He continues, ignoring me completely. “Then you get a second one, then a third one. At that point, you might as well have thirteen, because if you have three cats, why not a baker’s dozen? And then you’re putting out food for stray cats, but raccoons and opossums come too... And they’re critters in need of love. Why not take them into your home, give them names and bells to wear? Before you know it, you’re bringing possums in for wellness checks.”
“Stop. Stop talking.” Laughing hurts, but I can’t help it. I press my fingers against his lips, trying to silence him. His mouth is warm, and I can feel him smiling beneath my touch. “That will never be me.”
He seizes my wrist, pulling it away from his face. His thumb finds my pulse point, and I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is racing—from him or from the inflammation squeezing my heart, I’m not sure anymore. “You say that now, but crazier things have happened.”
“Not to me.” I narrow my eyes, trying to project confidence I don’t feel. “Only the things that I plan happen to me.”
Of course, it couldn’t be a bigger lie. I never planned on rheumatoid arthritis. Never planned on my body betraying me,on having to give up my career, on learning that control is just an illusion we tell ourselves. Or the pain in my heart that’s been plaguing me all evening but that Sebastian is doing a pretty good job distracting me from.
And I definitely never planned on him. Not one bit.
He’s still holding on to my wrist, but he loosens his grip. His fingers slide down to interlace with mine. He leans forward, breath warm against my cheek. The background music slows, something with piano and rain. The light dims—or maybe that’s just my vision narrowing to focus only on him. I’m slipping into a trance, his focused attention lulling me into a steady calm. The pain recedes, pushed back by something stronger.
Then his lips meet mine, and it’s like coming up for air when I didn’t realize I was oxygen-deprived. Like that first breath after being underwater too long, burning and necessary and perfect. The feel of his mouth on mine breathes life into me, makes everything else fade to background noise. I find his firm chest and press my fingers into the taut muscles, my every nerve alive with this new sparkle he’s brought to my existence.
For a moment, there’s no pain, no past, no future. Just this. Just us.
