I don’t even know what he looks like. It’s dark out.
This woman makes my blood boil.
Now I’m going to waste my time looking for a dumb cat?
How about I tape my mouth shut instead?
That would be better than this!
“Are you sure?” Portia’s gaze cements on mine—hope buds in her irises. “I feel bad. Are you even feeling better?”
“Suuuure.” My voice pitches higher at the end as I mentally prepare for what I’m about to do. “It’s not a problem. Let’s keep the dog here so he doesn’t scare it away again.” I motion inside, and glare at the beast and catch sight of something on the nightstand. A 5x7 framed photo of a gray cat and her.Oh, adorbs. A cat selfie, I sarcastically say in my head. And she framed it.I study the creature. Gray. Cat. Whiskers. Like every gray cat with whiskers. “This should be . . . be really easy.” I can’t get whole sentences out, as I’m so furious with myself for volunteering, but it’s late and she’s crying. I can’t handle when a woman cries. I glare at El. “You coming?”
“I’ll head west, you go east.”
"I'll go south." Portia pulls the door closed behind her as she’s already heading down the stairs.
“Sweeeell.” I force my lips into a toothy grin. “I better get going too. Itisrather late.” I screech, the highest octave my voice has ever hit. I’m a bit amazed I even have that range.It’s clearly a hidden talent I didn’t even know I had. I could totally take on one of those singing competition shows and win the whole thing. Then I can give up my failed Coffee Loft, living the dream on a yacht in the Caribbean—
“Christian,” her soft voice cuts my daydream spiral off, pulling me back to her.
I was afraid to ask, but against my better judgment I whispered out in fear. “What do you need?”
“Thank you.” The tiniest smile curls on her lips. It is the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her face, and I can’t stop staring at it. Her lips are cotton candy pink. A dimple sits right above her chin. A perfect little button of happiness—What is wrong with me?I jolt my head back, shaking myself out of this insanity. It’s already been a loooong day.
“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble as I wave goodbye and struggle to keep pace with her while descending the steps. “Don’t worry about anything. One of us must find him.”
Portia took off way ahead of me, but left me with a burning image in my brain of her smiling. Her soft blonde waves frame her face.She is stunning.
When did that happen?
Feeling a tad feverish, I fan my face and cross the hall. “Great. Now, I’m coming down with something.”Clearly, my stress is making me ill.
Or is it . . .
nineteen
Portia
I received a text from Christian saying he had found Mr. Noodles, and I ran home at record speed to meet him. He’s seriously slow because both Arielle and I beat him to my apartment and made hot chocolate by the time he hobbled up. A single knock sounds on the door, and I whip it open.
“I got your cat,” he grumbles. “Now, give me Arielle, and we can leave.”
My jaw plummets. He has deep rows of scratches etched into both sides of his face, mimicking sideburns. I size them to match the exact width of Mr. Noodles’ claws. Mud cakes his pants all the way up to his knees. I can’t even tell what color his shoes are. Mr. Noodles is wrapped in his jacket, and tucked in a ball under his arm with a scowl, clearly unhappy.
“That’s not my cat, by the way.” Blinking, I tease him. “You can put him back from wherever you got him."
“Not your cat!” he screeches as his face grows scarlet. “I don’t care if it’s not your cat. He is now. He’s gray. He has whiskers. He was in a tree right across the street. I climbed the tree, but he fled before I could grab him. Then I chased him down a muddy alley, all while slipping and sliding to my death. I finally cornered him between a building and a trash can. I had to use my good jacket to restrain him but not before he ripped my face off. I’m not putting him back. I didn’t want to agree to any of this.” He reaches his hands out, dangling the cat out in front of him. “I’m done!”
Clumsily catching Mr. Noodles, I cradle him next to my chest, and he curls right in. I’m not mean. Christian went through the hassle of finding Mr. Noodles, and I can tell he doesn’t think this is funny. “It’s my cat. I was joking. Sorry, if that stressed you out more.”
“Good!” He bobbles his head while parking both hands on his hips. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”
“Thank you for everything.” My words rush out a little garbled up, and I hope they aren’t lost.
He sticks his head into my door, calling out, “El, it’s time to leave.”
She glides across the room and smiles at me. “Christian needs to talk to you before we leave.” She glares at him. “Right?”
