“Ready for a tree and me?” he asks goofily.
“Ready for both. Load ’em up!”
My pissy cat is pretty tolerant when I pick him up, stroke his head, set him into his carrier, and bring him in the car. Only a small squeal, so pretty much a victory.
“Think he’s okay for a tree stop?” Dave asks as he drives us to the main road.
“He’ll have to be. Whiska Hargitay has got to toughen up sometime.”
We land in a seriously magical field, and while I was hoping to make a quick choice, it’s about twenty minutes of me swirling around this assortment of trees.
“How high can we go? How wide?” I ask. “I don’t remember your living room, but, like, the bigger, the better, obviously.” I spin around. “Sorry. Any size is fine, of course. I just haven’t had a tree in years. Not on my own.” I stroll among the trees, touching my hands to the branches. “Not since I lived with my parents. And those trees were sort of depressing. Obligatory trees with obligatory and shitty decorations.”
Dave meets me in the snow. “It’d be nice to have a beautiful tree for once, right?”
“It would. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. And there is room for a stupidly big tree. It’s maybe part of both of our Super Bowls.”
So, we only leave when a ginormous beast is wrapped up and strapped to the top of his car, along with a weighty stand.
It’s not an easy task to pull this monster into the house, but we manage and set it to standing. While it looks a bit awkward now, I feel sure that it’ll settle once it’s been out of the cold for a bit.
Hoping that’s the same for Whiska…
Dave guides me to a guest room and helps me set up all of his beds, and litter, and food stuff. “This is a guest room fit for a king. Not sure Top Cat needs a full bed with a handmade Afghan blanket or a chaise lounge, but I’ll bet he’ll take it.”
This cat tolerates me taking him from his case in the trunk, and he doesn’t even snarl when I carry him from the car to the bedroom. In fact, when I put him on the bed, he starts digging his paws over and over into the blanket.
Dave grabs my waist in some kind of excitement. “He’s making biscuits!”
“He’s what?”
“See how Whiska is kneading?” Dave beams. “That’s what it’s called. Making biscuits.”
My Top Cat looks up at us as he does indeed dig his paws into the blanket, then spins around to kick off with his back paws.
“He seems happy.”
It’s a suggestion that I’m not sure of, so I can only shrug.
Dave tightens his hold in affirmation. “He is happy.”
“Getting there maybe.”
Dave nuzzles his lips against my neck. “I’m glad you suggested we move here. Back to my house. I think the idea felt scary for us both. Shifting away from the familiar. From what we’d settled into.”
He’s right. But I think we are ready for this. “You’ve gotten me through so much. This is nothing in comparison.”
His tongue is super-hot and loving as he pulls my top down my shoulder and inches over my skin. “And even more, you asked for something you wanted. A big tree.”
I giggle as I spin him my way and grab his shirt. “You ready to help unload my truck full of ornaments? I had a very busy day…”
Chapter 24
After we awake and make stupidly googly eyes at each other over coffee and Whiska has stopped meowing for food, we start unpacking the Christmas decorations I ordered. Despite my temptation, Dave is lucky that I didn’t order some kind of massive lighted holiday village. There is room for it here, and I’ve always kind of wanted one. Maybe next year…
That night, he is poking his head in the fridge and lamenting about how there’s nothing for dinner, as we did forget to pack up the fridge from the rental.
