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“He is,” insists Vincent.

“He spends most of the movie wishing he wasn’t an immortal cat because all he wants is to be reunited with his loved ones.”

“Well… why wouldn’t he? That’s what I’ve done ever since the Spellbrook witches cursed me to be a cat.”

And, yeah… that definitely wipes the smile off of my face. Because while Vincent gives all of the reasons why Binx is the best character in the movie, my gaze moves past the television to the clock on my cable box.

10:27.

Suddenly, I’m not laughing anymore.

By eleven-forty-five, I have no idea when exactly the movie ended, only that it did. I was too busy paying attention to the clock, watching the minutes tick down so that, when the credits began to roll and Vincent snaps his finger, turning the television off, it takes me a second to notice how quiet the living room has gotten.

Except, of course, for the slight purring sound that has been coming from Vincent for the past hour.

“Kate…”

His soft voice rips my attention away from the neon-green numbers on the cable box. “Yeah?”

“You keep looking at it. Don’t. It’ll only make it harder.”

I sigh, not even trying to act like I don’t understand what he’s talking about. “I… I know.”

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes until midnight hits and it’s time for Vincent to disappear.

Well, no. Not disappear. He’ll still be here. It’s just… after midnight—unless he’s been screwing with me all along and, somewhere along the way, I’ve accepted that he isn’t—he’ll just be Mr. Whiskers again. My giant black cat who sleeps beside me and knocks things off counters and tries to eat food he shouldn’t.

Except now I know.

I know what he looks like when he smiles. What his laugh sounds like. What it feels like when he kisses me. I know there’s a man inside that cat. And I… I don’t want to lose him.

But I also don’t think I can do what he told me I have to do. Not when we would only be having sex because some supernatural deadline says that we have to. I want it to be spontaneous and real—and I never want to look back on this Halloween and think that everything that passed between Vincent and me was because he was doing whatever he could to get me in bed with him.

He’s sitting upright. Pushing up from the couch, I join him.

Then I tell him the truth: “I can’t sleep with you.”.

Vincent goes still.

“I mean…” I rub my hands over my face. “God, that sounded awful.”

“It was a little devastating,” he admits, and I swear I hear a hint of a tease in his voice when he says that.

“Vincent...”

“I’m kidding.”

Except, when I lower my hands and peek over at him, he isn’t smiling.

I shudder out a breath. “Okay. I want to make one thing clear. You’ve probably figured it out hours ago, but it’s not that I don’t like you. I do. Or that I don’t want you, either⁠—”

His hand lands on my thigh. “It’s alright, Kate. You don’t have to say another word.”

I don’t have to, but before he returns to his fur… I feel like it’s only fair that I try to explain what I mean. It’ll be way too weird to make this sort of confession to a pair of whiskers and bright green eyes, not when I still have a few minutes left with Vincent Morrow himself.

“Please, Vincent. Let me get through this.”