“I’m right here,” I call back, stopping in my tracks when I catch sight of Jim.
He’s dressed casual like the rest of us, comfortable jeans and a worn Cubs tee, but the kicker is the blue ball cap spun backwards, tendrils of golden hair sticking out from the sides. It should be a crime, really, to look that good. To be able to simply flip a hat backwards and make my heart flutter.
Jim cocks a brow when I enter the kitchen, his gaze first falling to my tight, scoop neck tee that barely contains the girls, then down to my jeans with the torn knees, finishing at my sandaled feet. He slowly works his eyes back up, focusing on my chest before he clears his throat roughly.
My hands immediately cross over my arms, old feelings of wild insecurity pecking their way to the surface.
“What?” I hiss, probably a little too sharply. “You can’t tell me this isn’t proper Cubs game apparel.”
“It’s definitely appropriate game apparel,” he says, reaching a hand up to aggressively squeeze the back of his neck.
“Then, what?”
His eyes dart to the side, ensuring Jackson is out of ear shot before taking a step closer. He pulls his cap off, running a hand through his messy hair before sliding it back on, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “There have been countless times since the moment I first laid eyes on you, where I see you and think, yup, this is it. This is by far the most beautiful she could possibly look.”
My breath hitches as he continues.
“And then there are days like today, where you walk into a room so calm and casual and it knocks the goddamn breath from my lungs. You. Are.Stunning. Megan.”
There he goes, using my full name and everything. “Even in my too-tight shirt?” I whisper, tugging at the hem of my tee.
He comes closer, close enough to spark that magnetic pull I’ve been feeling whenever he’s around. A hand comes up to the side of my face, hesitant at first, but then rests gently on my cheek, thumb grazing my cheekbone. “You heard me. Stunning. There isn’t a thing about you I’d ever change. I swear it.”
I’m about to lean in, to rise on my toes and press my lips to his when he cocks his head, the kitchen light illuminating shades of discoloration around his eye. I squint, reaching up to grasp his jaw and turn his head to the side to get a better look. “Is that a black eye?”
He lets me linger for a moment before his hand claps around my wrist, gently pulling it down. “It was a few days ago. Took an elbow to the face during a three-on-three basketball game.”
“Yikes, hope you got the asshole back.”
“Mom!” Jackson shrieks from behind us. “Did you see what Jim brought for Clementine?”
“For Clementine?” I look down and then behind Jim, now noticing the giant box sitting by the front door. The image printed on the side shows a gray and white house, complete with a balcony and matching flower box. I squint to read the writing, making sure I’m not hallucinating as I mouth the wordstwo tier - heated - outdoor cat house. “You bought a house for my feral cat?”
He turns, a faint flush burning his cheeks. “I know summer has technically started, but the nights still get pretty cold. You did a good job making the house for her, bud,” he says to Jackson, “but I saw this and thought she might need something a little warmer.”
“Can we open it?” Jackson falls to his knees, already tearing at the corners of the box before getting the okay.
“Jim.” I approach the box hesitantly. “This is huge, this looks like it could be a chicken coop, or a mansion for cats.” My feral redhead so far hasn’t liked the finer things in life. Maybe there’s a part of her that wants to live in the gutters, that feels some sort of self-fulfillment by surviving the elements and scavenging for most of her food. This mansion, complete with blue shutters and scalloped trim, might be a little high class for her. “Did you choose the Barbie Dreamhouse version? Does it come with a backyard pool?”
He blushes at my words. “I just wanted to get her something nice. Is this okay with you?”
I turn to him and shrug. “She can have whatever, but don’t be butthurt if she doesn’t use it.”
Jackson stands, circling around the now torn box to push it across the floor towards the patio doors. “Let’s set it up for her now!”
Jim chuckles. “How about we take it out so you can see it, but I’ll come by another time to set it up outside for her?”
“Deal.” Jackson shreds the last of the cardboard, his eager hands tossing torn pieces behind him as he goes.
Jim falls to a knee, helping Jackson tear the box apart before pulling the pieces away, revealing a frame to the most ridiculous house. Something that a cat who seems fine with a cardboard box and flannel throw blanket doesn’t need.
“This seriously is bigger than my doll house I had when I was a little girl. You better not attract a hoard of feral cats with this. Or raccoons.” Images of thirty cats pooping in my backyard and meowing at the door for their morning meal flood my mind, making me shiver.
“I think Clementine will love it!” Jackson bounces around the house, bending to look through a window to see what each space offers. “I wish she would just sleep in our house, though.”
Jim ruffles his hair. “She’s wild, little dude. She’d be so scared to be locked inside the house when she’s used to her space.”
“I think we should just trap her in a cage and force her to stay with us. She’ll learn.”
