“Yes, and very honorable too.”
I laugh. “I know I’m a freak.”
“No… not at all. You’re something special... seriously.”
“Well, anyway… I’m coming over,” I announce, “just to talk.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Yes, it does.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
About three hours later, Liam is with Liza who kindly agreed to come over and look after him, and I'm staring out at the Portland skyline through his floor-to-ceiling windows. The space feels too perfect, too clean compared to my chaotic life. I'm not getting home until late, and I refuse to feel guilty about it.
I curl up on Caine's velvet sectional, watching his cat pad silently across the hardwood floor. He’s absolutely stunning - easily the most beautiful cat I've ever seen. His silver coat catches the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, each strand seeming to shimmer like spun metal.
"What's his name again?" I ask, mesmerized as the massive feline approaches.
“Lucifer.” Caine glances up from his laptop. “He’s a little trouble maker.”
The cat must weigh twenty pounds, maybe more. His thick, luxurious fur flows like liquid silver as he moves with surprising grace for such a large animal. Tufts of fur peek from between his toes, and his ears are adorned with long, wispy hair that gives him an almost regal appearance.
"He's enormous." I extend my hand slowly, letting Lucifer sniff my fingers. His nose is a soft pink triangle against the silver mask of his face. "I've never seen a cat this big."
"Maine Coons are the largest domestic breed. Lucifer’s on the bigger side even for his breed. Your little Oliver might be just as big one day.”
“I bet,” I tell him. “He already is… he’s been growing like crazy.”
The cat's eyes are what captivate me most - pale green, almost translucent, like sea glass. They study me with an intelligence that seems almost human. When he finally deems me acceptable, he rubs against my legs, his purr rumbling like a small engine.
"He likes you." Caine sits for a moment, watching us with amusement.
I run my fingers through Lucifer’s thick coat, marveling at how soft it is despite its wild appearance. His tail, bushy and magnificent, curls around my wristlike a silver plume. The markings on his face create perfect symmetrical patterns, dark silver stripes against lighter fur.
"He's like a small lion." I scratch behind his ears, and his purr intensifies. "Liam would absolutely lose his mind if he saw him."
Lucifer settles beside me on the sofa. He's easily three times the size of little Oliver, who suddenly seems tiny in comparison.
“Where was he last time I was here?”
“Probably napping.”
“The life of a cat,” I quip. “So, where is that coffee? You’re not exactly the perfect host I expected.”
He laughs. “Sorry, you’re distracting me. I’ll get right to it.”
I get lost in Lucifer’s eyes — they’re just as stunning as Caine’s. All encompassing, but not quite powerful enough to make me forget my problems.
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," I admit to Caine, curling my legs under me. "Everything's falling apart. I’m so damn confused and stressed out.”
He hands me my coffee and listens without interrupting as I pour out everything that's been crushing me for weeks—the missing money that seemed to vanish into thin air, Reeves’s gambling habit that he swore he'd kicked years ago.
My words tumble out faster and faster. I tell himabout finding the betting slips stuffed in the back of Reeves’s desk, about the late-night phone calls he takes in the garage, about the look in his eyes when I confronted him—defensive, then defeated, then desperate.
I explain how I feel like I'm drowning in quicksand, how every struggle just pulls me deeper, how I can't see any way out that doesn't involve losing everything we've built.
Through it all, Caine sits perfectly still, those intense green eyes fixed on mine, his expression serious but compassionate, not a single interruption passing his full lips.
