Chapter 33
Monday morning, bright and early. It’s literally so early that my brain still feels asleep. The shuttle pulls up to Lincoln’s house, and now that I’m actually seeing it in the brightest of daylight, I’m finally processing what it really looks like.
He opens the door and meets me outside, taking my bag from my hand.
“Come in,” he says kindly, and when I step inside, Morris runs over to greet me.
“He’s such a friendly cat,” I say.
“Yeah,” Lincoln chuckles.
“He’s very cute. Never took you to be a cat person,” I tell him.
“I didn’t think I was a cat person either. I guess I am now,” he replies.
“So tell me again why Sarah can’t watch him,” I ask.
“He gets lonely, and Sarah—” He pauses, clearly debating whether to say whatever is on his mind. Then he finishes, “Sarah’s busy. She’s kind of on my schedule.”
I suck in a breath and give him a sarcastic grin, narrowing my eyes into slits, making sure he can see it.
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget? You guys see each other day in and day out at every hour of the day.”
“Yeah. Especially now. So Morris needs somebody to look after him,” Lincoln responds.
“Why did you bother getting a cat if you don’t have the time to take care of one or be with him?” I ask as I walk further into the house, following him. He starts setting up something, and I wonder what he’s doing.
“Because he’s a rescue. Cat distribution system,” he says.
What the hell is he talking about?
“How the universe gives cats to people?” he expounds, reading my expression.
“Oh, yeah. Oh,” I say, piping up.
“Did he come after you?” I ask.
“I was walking on the road just doing a jog, but I was tired. So I was catching my breath and walking, and he comes barreling out to me, little thing he was,” Lincoln explains.
“That’s really cute. I don’t think he could have chose a worse person,” I say.
Lincoln chuckles.
I don’t laugh.
Part of mewantsto.
And if I really let my mind drift, I could almost trick myself into believing everything is fine, that nothing ever happened, that we’re not divorced, that the mess he made didn’t exist.
But it did.
And it’s annoying that I have to constantly remind myself.
Lincoln moves toward a wall. “So look here,” he says as he gestures. “This is the living room camera, and I'm gonna give you the account information for the surveillance.” His voice comes out stilted, half distracted as he types something into his phone.
“Give me your phone,” he says.
“I’d rather not,” I reply.
