Tail flicking, Beaver slinks closer before coming to a stop in front of Patton. Then, finally breaking his eye contact, my cat opens his mouth and drops something small and dark directly on his shoe.
Patton looks down in horror. “Is that . . . a dead cricket?”
“Well, at least it’s not a client’s wallet like last week. That made for an interesting and awkward conversation.”
Patton stares at Beaver, who is now sitting on his haunches, waiting expectantly. “What’s . . . what does he want?”
I roll my eyes.
I remember Patton telling me a long time ago that he wasn’t “a cat person,” but watching this interaction between them has got to be the highlight of my day. And after what his ogre of a dog did to my Monstera, this just feels like poetic justice.
I sigh, crossing my arms at my traitorous cat. “He’s showing you affection.”
Patton chuckles darkly. “He and I have very different definitions of affection.”
“Beaver’s love language is gifts. If he decides he likes you, he will bring you things. Whether it’s a stolen Rolex or the remains of a squirrel. He’s a giver that way.”
I can’t help but smile at the adoration and curiosity on my cat’s face. Patton may not be a cat lover, but my cat has decidedhe’s a Patton lover, and I can see the determination in his eyes to change Patton’s views.
Patton lifts his gaze from the dead bug on his shoe to me. “So, what you’re telling me is, this is his version of a proposal?”
I nod. “I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer.”
Patton’s eyes gleam, his words loaded with meaning. “At least he and I have that in common.”
twelve
nisha
The Brain Eraser
My muscles release under the masseuse’s warm touch on my back, a short groan escaping my lips when she presses the heel of her hand to a particularly tense spot.
My best friends and I are celebrating my sister’s upcoming nuptials with Troy with a day of pampering at Hudson’s sprawling ranch right outside of San Francisco. When he and Kavi offered their place for Sarina’s bachelorette party, I thought we’d be hanging out in some rustic barn with horses and hay and make the best of it.
I should have known better, though. Because if they say Dev is richer than God, then Hudson is God’s personal investment broker.
The man has more money than small countries, so it’s no surprise that his “little ranch” comes with an indoor spa, complete with a hot tub, heated massage tables, personal masseuses, and a private chef who’s preparing our lunch as we speak.
Yeah, we’re really roughing it out here.
Later tonight, the converted barn will be packed with more of Sarina’s friends—ladies from the salon, baseball wives, and whoever else made the cut for the evening’s festivities. But fornow, it’s just the Clam Jam girls, getting massages, drinking mimosas, and chatting it up, all while I try to forget my ex-husband exists for the next few hours.
Which is why I specifically asked everyone not to mention him today.
It’s been impossible to avoid him lately.
Just yesterday morning, from my kitchen window, I watched him try to walk his dog on our street. I say “try” because it mostly involved him stopping every few feet while Bob sniffed the ground with my bra dangling from his mouth while Patton’s security detail trailed a half-block behind him, looking like the world’s most awkward one-man parade.
Two mornings before that, I made the mistake of staring at his house while sitting in my driveway, my “Crying in the Car” playlist streaming through my speakers like it had for so many years. But as if he had a sixth sense for obliterating my peace, Patton emerged from his door in nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants and a backward cap, like one of those thirst traps you scroll past before guiltily backtracking to ogle.
His eyes locked on mine as he lifted his coffee cup in a lazy salute, a knowing smirk curving when he caught my gaze drifting to his bare chest. I slammed the accelerator and hightailed it out of there so fast, I left skid marks on the pavement. But the damage was done. His stupid chest had burned itself into my retinas.
So yeah, this much-needed Patton-free spa date couldn’t have come at a better time.
My best friends’ husbands are here, too, spending the day with Troy doing “manly things,” like horseback riding, fishing, and archery. Or maybe they’re all scratching their balls and seeing who can spit the farthest. Who knows?
Anyway, the plan is to merge our groups later in the barn for a night of debauchery and drinks.
