@vettechvibes
Just chiming in with my professional opinion. Those hairballs aren’t harmless, especially if he’s hacking and not getting them up easily. To echo what was said before, you can try redirecting him to a damp washcloth instead.
@catchercatdad
Thank you. I’ll try the washcloth idea.
@callum&fergie
Plot twist: the cat’s been trying to get you two together this whole time.
@thetabbygirl
I think @catchercatdad has a crush. ;)
@catchercatdad
We’re just roommates.
@purrfectlyfine
Whatever you gotta tell yourself, man.
@clawenforcer
To summarize for those just logging on—the cat’s in love with her, he’s in denial, and her hair is the battlefield.
@vettechvibes
And human hair isn’t good for cats.
@clawenforcer
Yeah, that too.
Chapter 19
Millie
My concentration has gone down the drain. The fact that I’m doing the final edits for next week’s Valentine’s Day posts—not helping. After a long afternoon, it’s finally time to go home and get dressed for my fake date with Callum. Or thank-you dinner? I’m not sure exactly what’s happening. But one of the two.
When I finally reach my flat, I slip into one of my favourite dresses. I’m not sure where we’re going, but my purple polka-dot tea dress has never failed me. I touch up my makeup, and Callum picks me up right on time in a dark, luxurious SUV from a brand I don’t even know.
“Hey,” I say with a smile, sitting down next to him. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem.” He meets my eyes briefly before easing into traffic.
“Fancy car.” I crane my neck to survey the cabin—matte black dashboard, leather seats, and high-tech displays. Everything smells faintly of cedar and something warm I can’t name. “Could use a bit of colour, but it suits you well, I guess.”
He chuckles, a low sound that makes my stomach flip. “They didn’t have it in bright yellow.”
“Shame.” I smirk. “So, where are we going?”
“A small Italian place in Covent Garden. My mum loves to eat there when she visits. Hope you like pasta?”
“Si!”I answer with way too much enthusiasm, immediately regretting the fake accent. “Who doesn’t like pasta?”
His smile deepens, and I suddenly wish it wasn’t so dark in the car.
