I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means I remember a certain younger brother telling me I was crazy.”
I roll my eyes. “You were crazy.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe.”
“And yet, I’m happily married.”
I open my mouth, then close it.
Damn it. I hate when he’s right.
But my mind won’t stop spiraling now.
“Violet isn't stalking me.”
“Did I say she was?”
I pause, thinking about his words.
“You implied it.”
“Interesting that your mind went there.”
I glare at him. “I liked you better five minutes ago.”
He grins. “I know.”
I am way too old to be getting bullied by my brother.
A soft thump comes from behind me. I turn and see Mr. Pickles sitting on the kitchen chair, staring at me with those yellowish-green eyes. He looks… judgmental.
I point at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He doesn’t blink.
“I mean it,” I mutter. “I’m not dealing with your judgment. Not tonight.”
His tail flicks once. He doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at me.
I start pacing. “She’s nothing like Ivy,” I say, gesturing wildly with my other hand. “She’s... normal.”
Mr. Pickles’ tail flicks again.
“Stop it,” I snap at the cat. “You’re impossible.”
I am arguing with a cat.
Sebastian crosses his arms, clearly enjoying this. “Did she follow you home?”
I freeze for a moment, then gloat. “No, she didn’t. I followed her home.”
Sebastian stares at me.
Mr. Pickles blinks slowly.
