He didn’t protest. With him purring happily on my shoulder, I stepped out and closed the door. He and Chili were allowed in there while I was working, but they had a tendency to knock shit over and kick papers everywhere if they were unsupervised. Lesson learned the hard way.
Most days, I had to carry both of them out or carry one while I gently nudged the other along with my foot. Today, I only had to remove Clyde, since Chili had been MIA since Eric got home from work an hour ago.
Sure enough, I found Chili in the living room, occupying most of Eric’s lap while Eric balanced a tablet on his knee.
Absently petting Chili with his free hand, he glanced up. “Done for the day?”
“Finally.” I rolled my eyes. “Never ends for the IT guy.”
He just chuckled. “Better you than me. I’m lucky I can navigate social media.”
“Yeah, but it means I have to put up with people who don’t understand computers need to be plugged in to work.”
He peered up at me. “Do you really get people who need to be told to plug in their electronics?”
Sighing, I nodded. “More often than you would think.”
“Yuck. Like I said—better you than me.”
I just laughed. As I walked behind the couch toward the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a real estate website on his screen.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Apartment listings.” He glanced up at me and offered a shy smile. “I appreciate you putting me up, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
I didn’t want to think too hard about the sudden ball of disappointment in the pit of my stomach. Of course he wanted to get a place sooner than later. I didn’t imagine seeing me every goddamned day was helping him move on from Selena.
Still, I shrugged as I leaned down to scratch Chili’s head. “Eh. You’re neat, quiet, and my cats like you. I’m in no hurry to kick you out.”
He smiled, petting my loudly purring cat. “It’ll probably take a while anyway. But hopefully not more than a month or two?”
I could live with that. “Fair enough.” I put Clyde down on the back of couch. “Anyway, I’m going to figure out something for dinner.”
As I headed for the kitchen, Eric said, “I know, I know—I’m the most evil bastard in the world. But I need you to move so I can get up.”
I chuckled. He definitely knew who was in charge in this house.
I was leaning into the fridge when he joined me in the kitchen and asked, “Can I help with anything?”
“Nah.” I pulled out a coconut chicken curry meal kit. “Just going to nuke this and put it over rice.” Showing him the box, I added, “You want any?”
“Sure. Yeah.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to cook for me, you know.”
“I know. But we both have to eat, and there’s more than enough for two, so…”
“Okay. Makes sense.” He pressed his shoulder into the doorframe and folded his arms loosely. “Since I get home from work before you’re off, I’m happy to cook some nights too.”
“Your call.” I cut the cellophane wrapper with my thumbnail. “I get meal kit deliveries that have the recipes and everything; I can send you the login so you can pick a few things you like.”
“Cool. Just let me know how much I owe you.”
I made a non-committal sound. I hated the idea of making him pay for anything. He’d mentioned the other night how much money he was out thanks to the canceled wedding, plus he had to deal with coughing up first and last month’s rent on a new place. He was paying some token rent to live here—he’d insisted—but I didn’t want to ask him to pay for more than that.
Fortunately, the conversation shifted away from financial topics and living arrangements, and we talked about our work days while I made dinner. Eric also kept the cats out of my way, which I appreciated. They loved to “help” in the kitchen, and having someone else to occupy them made it a lot easier to work. Especially Chili, who liked to become a tripping hazard.
With Eric distracting the cats, I threw together the coconut curry dish from the meal kit along with some steamed green beans. The curry then went over the rice, and though it wasn’t a huge or complex meal, it was good and it was satisfying.
Eric insisted on doing the dishes, not that there were many to do. I didn’t argue; if it made him feel less like he was imposing, then fine. He wasn’t an imposition at all, but I understood that the whole situation was messy and complicated. His feelings about it probably weren’t much better. God knew mine weren’t.
