“I’m a very good listener.”
“I know.”
After a beat, she slips out of my hold, and I fight the urge to wrench her back into me. Daisy welcomes me into the home Ihaven’t stepped foot in since high school. She’s updated some furniture, but much remains the same. I half expect her mom to poke her head out from the kitchen, and my throat tightens.
Daze has added knickknacks and framed photos scattered among colorful gemstones, and a golden glow from twinkle lights and vintage lamps illuminates the room. And the smell…it’s something flowery but mysterious.
Without me asking, she hands me a mug of water. The cup has a drawing of Harlow on it and saysI’ll never desert you.Daisy gestures for me to sit on the couch and takes the mauve velvet lounger across the coffee table, crossing her long legs.
“What’s going on?” I ask her.
“It’s about Freddie.”
As if she summoned him, her chunky cat—technically her mom’s—stirs from his sleep and gnaws on his front paw.
“Hey. Remember me?” I run my hand down his back, which sets off a motor of purrs.
Daisy holds out a hand to Fred, which he ignores for attention from me instead. “Guess I’m back to second favorite.”
“As long as you keep feeding him, you’ll always be number one in his eyes.” He nuzzles into my hand again. “He seems okay to me.”
“The vet heard some irregular heartbeats. She couldn’t tell me much more, but she referred me to a cardiologist. It could be bad.”
“Your cat has a cardiologist?”
“I know.” She rubs her temples. “He has his own team of specialists now.”
“Maybe these are all precautionary measures.”
“He’s fifteen. Ten is senior for cats.” Over the mandala design inked on her knee, she twirls a mug, which features a plump cactus and the wordsFREE HUGS. “My mom loved him so much. I’ll lose something she cared for, if he—when he—” Shesucks in a breath, gripping the bottom of her T-shirt to dab her eyes.
Freddie appears in countless memories at Daisy’s house. He was always around, dozing on the windowsill or curled up on the couch. Just like how walking into this home without Daisy’s mom feels off, I also can’t picture it without him. I can only imagine what Daisy’s going through.
“Hey.” I circle the table and kneel next to her. Seeing her so broken up reminds me of how useless I was to Daisy since I left, especially these past couple years. Sporadic voicemails didn’t give us this kind of closeness. I could kick myself for not listening to my gut when I got the news about her mom.
That scent hits my senses again, hard—floral masked by a sultry musk. She smells good, enticing. When I rest my hand on her shin, her skin is pure silk.
“How stupid.” She sniffles into a tissue. “I’m upset over a cat.”
“Freddie boy is not simplya cat. He’s your guy. He’s been there with you, through thick and thin.”
“Sorry for the breakdown.”
“Don’t be.”
“I doubt you texted me so you could watch me wipe snot into my shirt.”
“That’s actually exactly why I texted you.”
“Stop,” she says with a ghost of a smile. “None of that.”
“What?”
“The Max Weber Charm.”
“Max Weber Charm?” I say the words like I’m trying to taste them.
“Where you’re all smiley and jokey and everybody likes you because you’re this easygoing guy.”
