Josie slid in beside her as they caught their breath. Then she sat up, tugging at Eve’s hand, dragging her toward the bathroom. She turned on the shower, drawing Eve’s attention to the fact they were a sticky, sweaty mess. They stepped into a quick shower, rinsing the sweat and sex from their bodies.
Afterward, Eve accepted a T-shirt from Josie and followed her to the kitchen. She filled a much-needed glass of water as Josie began heating formula. Eve drained her glass and glanced into the living room, where four small faces stared back.
“Holy shit.” She set her glass down so hard, it almost shattered against the counter.
Josie followed her gaze with a laugh. “They’ve grown since the last time you saw them, haven’t they?”
These…did not look like the same kittens. They were alert in a way Eve had never seen. She walked into the living room as four pairs of eyes tracked her, tiny bodies jumping around inside the playpen. Crouching, she lifted Blanche, hardly able to believe how big she’d gotten in the week since Eve saw her last. She rubbed the kitten behind her ears, and Blanche nuzzled her face against the fabric of Eve’s T-shirt, a tiny rumble vibrating out of her.
“Oh my God.” Eve glanced over as Josie walked into the living room with bottles. “She’s purring.”
“Yes, she’s a big girl who can purr now. And she likes you,” Josie said with a satisfied smile.
“I smell likeyou,” Eve said quietly, looking down at the T-shirt Blanche was kneading with her tiny paws.
“Give her some credit,” Josie said, handing Eve a bottle. “And giveyourselfa little credit. You’ve been there for her since she was a newborn. She associates you with safety and comfort.”
“She can’t possibly remember that I’m the one who saved her,” Eve said, positioning Blanche to accept her bottle.
“No, she doesn’t, but she certainly remembers your voice and your scent from those early days.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Eve refused to believe it. Blanche had been too little. They all had been. And they’d spent so much more time with Josie now. They probably didn’t remember Eve at all. She was just another warm body…wearing a shirt that smelled like Josie.
Blanche finished her bottle—a much larger bottle than the last one Eve had given her—and looked up at Eve, meowing loudly. Eve reached for a paper towel to stimulate her to pee, at the same time noticing the litter box in the playpen. They couldn’t have changedthatmuch in a week, could they?
“You should still stimulate her,” Josie said with a laugh, noticing her confusion, “but they’re learning to use the litter box too.”
“Wow.”
“They grow fast.”
“I guess so,” Eve said as she finished up with Blanche, who was attempting to hop off her lap and run around the apartment.
“You can put her down if you want,” Josie said. “They like to explore.”
Eve set Blanche on the floor, where she proceeded to roll belly up, wrestling with Eve’s bare toes, gripping them with her front paws while her back paws kicked furiously. “Ouch,” she said, prying the kitten off her foot.
Nigel strolled through the room, and Blanche launched herself at him, grabbing at his tail like it was a toy. He gave her an annoyed look before turning his amber eyes on Eve.
“Why does he always stare at me like that?”
Josie laughed. “Cats do that. He’s just curious about you.”
“I don’t like it,” she confessed.
“Aw,” Josie said, nudging her with an elbow. “Pet him. Talk to him. Get to know him, and then he won’t feel like you’re a stranger in his home that he needs to keep an eye on.”
“Hm.” She slid a look in Nigel’s direction, too tired—and tipsy—to sort it out tonight.
She and Josie fed the other two kittens and spent a few minutes playing with all of them before putting them in the playpen. They cleaned up their feeding supplies and returned to the bedroom, where they crawled between the sheets together, facing each other in the darkness, arms and legs entwined. Eve breathed in the comfort and closeness between them, feeling it fill something inside her that had been empty since the last time she slept in Josie’s bed.
“You should adopt Blanche,” Josie whispered, fingers trailing sleepily through Eve’s hair.
“I don’t want a cat,” she responded automatically, but as she closed her eyes, she imagined having Blanche there when she got home at the end of a long day. Cats were pretty self-sufficient once they were grown. It wouldn’t require her to change her schedule or shorten her work hours. Did her building even allow pets? She had no idea. She’d never asked, had never cared.
How long did cats live? Not very long, probably. In the end, it would be something else for her to outlive, something else for her to mourn, and while it didn’t compare to burying her wife and daughter or being forced to walk away from her entire family, why should she set herself up to go through that kind of pain again?
She didn’t need a cat. She was better off on her own.
