I cross my arms against my chest. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”
She imitates my posture, although it doesn’t have the same effect. “I could say the same ab—”
“BEEP. BEEP.”
Millie jumps, eyes flying wide. “Wait—what’s going on?” She spins toward the sound, panicked. “Is that your fire alarm? Should we—?”
For a moment, I actually consider letting her believe it’s real and sending her outside in the pouring rain. Problem solved.
But then, I sigh, dragging a hand down my face.
“Naw. It’s just Fergie.” I angle myself toward the staircase and shout, “Fergie, shut it!”
Millie blinks. “Fergie?”
I gesture toward the stairs and start walking. “Come on. You might as well meet him now.”
She follows me up the stairs, still frowning, as though she’s not sure whether I’m pulling her leg. When we enter the room, she freezes.
There he is—perched dramatically near his swing, feathers ruffled and eyes gleaming with mischief.
“You have a parrot?” she asks, stunned. “A live one? Who does fire alarm impressions?”
“Unfortunately.”
He clicks his beak and squawks out an enthusiastic, “BEEP BEEP!”
Millie turns slowly toward me, her expression brimming with disbelief and barely suppressed laughter.
“And you don’t want to create a social media account?”
I cross my arms again. “Nope.”
“Come on. You’d make millions on the platforms,” she says, grinning now. “Forget football—Fergie’s the real star.”
I look at her, my expression utterly serious. “Don’t encourage him.”
Too late. Fergie breaks into a garbled version of a pop theme I don’t know, bobbing his head like a tiny green backup dancer.
Millie claps a hand over her mouth. “This is… honestly incredible.”
Her laughter echoes through the room, light and unguarded. And suddenly, everything feels different between us. Softer. Warmer. A weird sensation washes over me, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
She ventures a single step toward the cage, stretching her hand out, and I’m pulled back to reality.
“Don’t. He’s not the most friend—”
But Fergie shuffles forward on his perch and, to my complete disbelief, ducks his head toward the bars.
Millie lets out a quiet, delighted gasp and reaches through the bars carefully, scratching the top of his head. Fergie chirps once, clearly pleased. As for me, I’m in utter shock. He’s never let anyone but me pet him before. Not one of the dozen pet sitters he’s had has ever managed to touch him. Well, one did, but I had to pay for her stitches after that.
“Aww, aren’t you a cutie,” Millie says with a baby voice. “No wonder Callum doesn’t want you on camera. You’d steal the show.” She winks at me.
I just roll my eyes. “Should I give you two the room, or—?”
“Ah, don’t be jealous.” She takes a step back and looks at me. “But if you’re that eager, by all means, let’s get your social media account started.”
I groan. I should have just kept my mouth shut. Fergie was proving useful for once, and I blew it.
