And then, without warning, I started crying.
Not the quiet, dignified tears I’d shed in my apartment. Full-body sobs shook my shoulders and made it hard to breathe. The kind of crying that came from a place so deep I hadn’t known it existed until Ollie and Roger had ripped it open.
Three years. Three years of building a life with someone who’d been using me the entire time. Sleeping with my assistant. Making me feel like I was the problem—too rigid, too controlling, too unwilling to just relax and go with the flow.
The cat stayed perfectly still on my lap, warm and solid and real. Its purring vibrated against my chest like a tiny motor, and somehow that made it worse. This stray cat was showing me more genuine affection than my boyfriend of three years had managed in months.
“I’m so stupid,” I said to the cat through my tears. “I should have seen it. Everyone probably saw it except me. I was planning to propose, did you know that? I bought a ring. A really expensive ring. And he was fucking my assistant in coat closets while I was planning our future life together.”
The cat opened one eye—the blue one—and closed it again, still purring.
“You’re a good listener,” I said, wiping my face with my free hand. “Better than my therapist, honestly. And you don’t charge two hundred dollars an hour.”
I sat there for what might have been ten minutes or might have been an hour, crying into my bourbon while a stray cat purred on my lap. The fire crackled. The wind whispered through the pines outside. And slowly, gradually, the sobs subsided into hiccups, then into shaky breathing, then into something approaching calm.
“Thank you,” I told the cat quietly. “I don’t know why you’re here, but... thank you.”
The cat’s purring was my only answer.
I was considering whether I had the energy to get up and add another log to the fire when I heard it: a knock at the door.
My body went rigid. The cat’s ears swiveled toward the sound but otherwise didn’t move.
Who the hell would be knocking at my door? Gladys? Had something happened? Was there an actual mountain lion?
Another knock, more insistent this time.
I carefully moved the cat off my lap—it gave me a look of profound betrayal—and stood up, wiping my face quickly. I probably looked like a disaster. Red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, wearing sweatpants that had seen better days.
I opened the door.
A man stood on my porch, backlit by the last rays of sunset, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.
He was absurdly handsome—the type of handsome that didn’t seem fair, like someone had ordered the deluxe package from the genetic Neiman Marcus. Dark wavy hair that looked artfully tousled by the wind. Strong jawline. Eyes that were almost black in the fading light. He wore a hoodie that said something I couldn’t quite read and yoga pants that showed off everything.
This must be my neighbor. The one who’d been doing yoga on his deck while I’d panicked about mountain lions.
“Hi,” he said. His voice was warm, friendly. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m your neighbor and I’m having a bit of a crisis.”
He was shivering, his jaw tight against the cold, arms wrapped around himself. The leather jacket he wore looked expensive and completely useless.
“Jesus, get inside before you freeze to death.” I stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“Inside. Now.”
He hurried in, and I closed the door behind him. The warmth from the fireplace hit us both, and he let out a sound that was almost a groan of relief.
“Oh my God, that’s amazing.” He moved toward the fire immediately, holding his hands out. “I think I forgot what warmth felt like.”
“You’re from California, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” He turned to face me, and I thought I’d faint from the sight of male perfection.
“I’m Samuel,” he said, offering his hand. “Samuel Bennett. And yes, I’m obviously from California based on my complete failure to dress for winter.”
“Farley Davenport.” I shook his hand—his fingers were ice cold—and felt something electric pass between us. “New York. Also not great at winter, but at least I know what a proper coat looks like.”
