My heart unclenches a fraction. Then I notice something moving in the armchair.
Orion has a cat?
A fluffy, round,ridiculously adorablecreature curled into a perfect loaf.
The soft desk lamp paints gold over the cat’s fur. The sweet loaf blinks up at me.
My armor cracks. I crouch on instinct, skirt tightening at my thighs, heels biting into the carpet. “Hi, sweetheart,” I whisper.
I can see the look in the cat’s eyes as if it’s trying to tell me, ‘I love you too.’
I scoop the cat up as gently as I can, and it melts into me like warm dough, nuzzling under my chin with a soft, grateful rumble that punches me right in the sternum.
Oh no. Poor baby—no—strong baby. The cat’s missing a back leg.
My throat tightens.
“Where didyoucome from?”
The ache in my chest turns sharp. I cradle the soft ball tighter than I probably should and bury my face in the softest fur for a long second.
“He’s Lucian’s Emotional Support Animal.” Orion croaks from the bed, still cupping his groin.
I turn and double blink at him. Lucian’s? Emotional Support Animal?
The cat, now fully tucked into the neckline of my top, purrs like he just discovered heaven. His little chin rests right abovemy heart, the sound soft and steady, like he’s trying to regulate my breathing for me.
Honestly, it’s working.
The afterglow of dick punching my brother fades, though. Fury trickles back in, and I start to feel a little guilty as I remember Orion doesn’t even know why I am angry.
How was he supposed to know I had an affair with his best friend? How was he supposed to know I gave his best friend and partner my heart, and he threw me to the side like I was nothing? How is he supposed to know, despite it all, I am still helplessly in love with Lucian?
What?
No, I’m not.
Fuck…am I?
Anger and grief stack on each other until my ribs ache.
I force my voice steady because yelling in a hotel room in front of a little angel cat and my brother feels theatrical even for me. “Let’s establish a new rule: you donotbring anyone to my shows unless you tell me first. There will be no surprise guests. If someone’s not pre-approved, you don’t get tickets. I mean it.”
Orion blinks, confusion on his face as he tries to read the woman in heels and silk and the wreck behind her eyes. “Cel—”
“No.” My tone cuts him off. I tuck my chin to keep my voice from fracturing. “I’m not going to explain. Not tonight, and not here, I won’t unpack it for anyone.”
He opens his mouth, searching my eyes. Relief and guilt flicker across his face, like he can see I’m devastated, not just angry, but I don’t want him piecing together more than he should. I don’t want the pity or the questions. I sure as hell don’t want him filling the silence with assumptions.
“Okay,” Orion says finally, soft and careful. He doesn’t push as he watches the burn on my face and, for once, chooses quietover curiosity. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you first. I’ll—” He stops himself. He doesn’t need to finish.
That small act of his not pressing for more information feels like mercy. Like he’s setting a hand on my shoulder instead of digging the knife deeper.
The cat purrs louder, oblivious in the best possible way. He burrows his head into my throat, making the world small and manageable for a second. I let myself breathe, filling that moment with the hot, ridiculous comfort of a cat that decided I was home.
For half a second, I think about telling Orion everything. The truth that’s been rotting in my chest for seven long months. How Lucian isn’t just a ghost from another life; heisthe life I can’t outrun. He’s the apology that never came, or the goodbye I never wanted, and heartbreak I don’t admit still keeps me up at three a.m.
But then the bathroom door opens.
