"You bought him a heated bed."
"For practical reasons. If he's warm, he won't steal my pillow."
"You bought him gourmet cat food from Harrods."
"The regular food upset his stomach."
"You call him 'sir' when you feed him."
Hastings went very still. "I do not."
"You do," Fritz called from the front seat. "I've heard you. 'Here's your dinner, sir. I hope it meets your exacting standards, sir.'"
"That's not—I was being sarcastic."
"You curtsied."
"I did not curtsy. I bent down to put the bowl down."
"It looked like a curtsy," I said, unable to resist.
Hastings glared at all of us, but there was no heat in it. "I'm surrounded by traitors."
"And one very spoiled cat," Presley added, leaning her head on his shoulder. “But that makes me happy.”
“And that’s all we want,” Fritz added.
When we got home, Presley went straight to the drawing room where Mr. Cheddar was sprawled across the back of the sofa like a ginger throw pillow.
We hung back, watching from the doorway.
"Mr. Cheddar," she said, sitting beside him. He opened one eye, assessed her, then closed it again. "I have news."
The cat's tail flicked.
"You're going to be a big brother. To twins. Two tiny humans who will probably be very loud and very annoying."
Mr. Cheddar opened both eyes now, staring at her with what could only be described as betrayal.
"I know, I know. You're the baby. But you're going to have to share now." She scratched behind his ears, and despite his offense, he started to purr. "They're going to love you though. And you're going to protect them, right? Keep them safe?"
Mr. Cheddar's purr ramped up, and he headbutted her hand.
"That's my boy." She kissed the top of his head, then stood. "Okay. I'm ready for this surprise now."
Fritz stepped forward, grinning before he took her hand. "Close your eyes."
"Fritz—"
"Close them, Liebling. Trust us."
She sighed but obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut. Fritz placed his hands over them anyway, guiding her toward theback door.
I walked close behind her, my hands hovering near her waist just in case she stumbled. Hastings brought up the rear, his phone in his hand, ready to capture whatever reaction she had.
We led her along the stone path, past the garden where the pergola construction had been happening. Or where she thought the pergola construction had been happening.
"Okay," Fritz said, stopping. "Open."
