“Oh my God!” Ivy bounces on her toes, clapping. “She’s just likeme.”
Yeah, that’s not comforting.
I lower my head... and meet Mr. Pickles’ smug expression. I point at him. “Stop it.”
“Drew has his own Ivy,” Ivy sings.
“No. That’s not?—”
“Then what do you call it?” Sebastian moves, stopping right in front of me. Mr. Pickles stares at me from between his legs, judging me.
“She was just... concerned. She was walking and?—”
“Walking through the shrubs?” Ivy asks, coming up beside him.
I’ve officially been ganged up on.
“Lemme get this straight? You couldn’t sleep. Went outside and nearly got attacked by a fluffy kitten? Fell while trying to escape with your life... and your stalker pops out of the shrubs?”
“Not my stalker.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make it true,” Sebastian deadpans.
“I hate you.” I glare at him, then at Ivy. “And you.”
My gaze drops to Mr. Pickles. “And you.”
Mr. Pickles lifts his paw and licks it. It almost looks like he’s playing a tiny violin.
I hate my life.
“We should have them over,” Ivy says unexpectedly.
I blink. “Have who over?”
“Violet and Luna,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I want to meet your cat. And talk to…um… Violet.”
I blink. “You were going to say stalker.”
She smiles. “I was.”
“She’s not a stalker. And she’s certainly not mine.”
Ivy and Sebastian exchange a look.
“Whatever you say,” they say in unison.
I huff out a breath.
This whole conversation is completely ridiculous.
“Come on. Invite her over.”
I look at the clock. “It’s early.”
It’s an excuse. It feels like a lot having Violet and Luna come over. Especially after this disastrous morning.
“Later,” Ivy says, bouncing again. “After Sebastian comes home from work.”
