Cat.
Chair.
Smells like chocolate and spice and… Rae.
Slowly, quietly, I push myself up to standing, stiff in all the worst places.
Over on the bed, there’s a shape that has to be Rae. The cat is somewhere around her head region. I shove back the urge to go over and make sure he’s not cutting off her air supply. He lives here, for fuck’s sake. She’d push him if she had to.
As quietly as I can, I check my pocket for keys and sidle over to the door.
It’s got a handle lock, which is good, since I can shut it on my way out, but really not okay for a woman living alone in a glorified shed.
Every cell in my body wants to stay. To slide into the bed beside her. Or just sit here until the sun’s fully up, guarding her while she sleeps.
Which is exactly why I have to go.
I cannot for one second explain, however, why I stop at a gas station on the way home and buy cat food for the Devil Cat that’s been shitting in my shoes.
Except that Rae made me do it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Rae
I’M FLOATING ASI walk up the street to work on Monday. And it’s not just from my Friday-night paint-gasms or the way Grant made me feel when he held my hand, when he took my sisters home and then walked me to my house, and Pepe liked him, and…
Ugh. Okay, it’s mostly that, but there’s other stuff too. The book nook I’m working on is flying. I posted a short process video, hashtagged the kink community, and got more engagement than I ever have—like close to viral views, actually, which is amazing. BookTok, apparently, really likes cozy/kinky mash-ups.
Another relief was when Dad FaceTimed my sisters and me last night and explained that the reason he’s so busy is that he just got cast as Herr Schultz in a local community theater production ofCabaret. Surprise!
I couldn’t believe it. Dad, acting again, after all these years? He hasn’t sung in a musical since he and Mom used to do community theater together. Hannah and I would go to rehearsals with them, and they’d joke about being the von Trapp family, except I could never sing. Or act. Which was what led me to stage management and from there, well, to human resources. Not that I studied it or anything; turns out stage managers are good at everything.
Anyway, we get now why he’s had an elevated heart rate and why costars are coming by to run lines and all of that stuff. Car mystery solved. I’m happy for him, and yes, it’s a bittersweet happiness because Mom should be up there onstage with him. But that sadness is always there. It’s just a part of my makeup since she died.
I pull into a rare free spot in the alley behind the building and allow myself ten seconds to think about Grant. It makes me giddy every time. Because Friday night, things felt different. More intimate. Which is possibly the very reason he took off from my place when he did.
So, yeah, I feel giddy and a little nervous. Aside from one check-in text and an offer to help me get my car, I haven’t heard from him since he passed out on my sofa.
I’m halfway up the exterior stairs, grinning like a fool, when the door to Sugar opens. Sam comes out. She stomps down the first few metallic steps, her arms full of things, and jolts to a stop when she sees me.
“Hey, stranger!” I call out. “Where’ve you been all weekend? I keep calling you and texting and you’re…” I catch sight of her puffy red eyes and her wet cheeks. “Are you crying?”
Her only response is a sniffle and a headshake.
It’s obviously a lie. “What is it? Who do I kill?”
“Nothing. No one.”
I turn around as she brushes past me. “Hey! Seriously, stop. This isn’t nothing. You never cry. What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you ask yourboyfriend?” she throws over her shoulder.
“My what?”
“I’ve been fired, Rae. That’s what, okay? Ask the gherkin.”
“Fired?” I follow her down the steps. “What happened?”
