Page 18 of The Holiday Exchange

When I arrive at Trevor’s house Saturday morning, it’s all I can do to contain a giggle.

He answers the door looking handsome and comfortable in jeans and a navy blue henley shirt, a kitten perched on each shoulder.

“Come in.” He closes the door behind me and I notice the changes in his living room. He must have decided to tackle the fireplace project this week, and it looks great, but that’s not what has my attention. Instead, my eye is drawn to a large, unusually shaped shoulder-high structure standing in one corner.

I move to stand in front of it. “Is this what I think it is?”

Trevor moves to join me. “It’s a cat playground. They love it.” He gently lifts each kitten off his shoulders and deposits them on the middle level. One kitten sits down and begins to wash its paws, while the other kitten scrambles up a carpeted pole onto the level above and begins batting at a suspended toy.

“Did you build this yourself?”

“Yep. Turns out DIY projects are extra hard with kittens, but I think it was worth it.”

Now I do giggle. “Looks like being a cat dad really suits you.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve asked myself over the last few days why I waited so long to get a pet, I would be a very wealthy man.”

I turn to the fireplace. “Looks like you’ve been busy with more than one project this week.” I run my hand over the new mantle, the wood dark and smooth under my fingers. It contrasts nicely with the newly painted white brick.

“I’ve been putting it off but now is the perfect time of year to build fires so I decided to go for it.”

“Well, it looks great. I can just picture you sitting here in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. And s’mores! You could totally make s’mores now.”

“S’mores?” He rubs his hand over his jaw. “Gosh, I haven’t had a s’more since I was a kid.”

My eyes bug out at him. “Seriously? What’s the point of being a grown-up if you don’t use your autonomy to fill your life with the good stuff?”

He smiles. “I take it you’ve had one more recently than me, then.”

“Indeed. But I have to make mine in the oven. It’s better than no s’more at all, but not as good as fire-roasted.”

“Maybe you can come use my fireplace sometime. I mean, if you want. I know you’re really busy.” He looks at the ground and shifts his feet awkwardly.

I smile, trying to put him at ease. “I’m never too busy for s’mores.”

He relaxes, returning my smile with a grin of his own. I notice for the first time that his eyes have flecks of gold radiating from their hazel centers, and I also realize how close we’re standing. It feels like a magnet is gently tugging at my core, and I can’t seem to look away from him. My gaze drops to his mouth and I notice creases at the corners of his lips that deepen whenhe smiles, and a slight cleft in his chin, so small you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t as close as I am right now.

A blow to my back knocks me out of the moment. I stumble forward, face-planting into Trevor’s chest.

“Leia!” Trevor wraps one arm around my waist, steadying me against him, while the other reaches to remove the kitten that just took a flying leap from the top of the playground onto my sweatshirt.

“Ow, ow, ow!” The kitten’s claws are like tiny fish hooks imbedded in my shoulder and I grit my teeth, trying to stay still while Trevor detaches her.

“Sorry, I’m trying to get her off. Okay, you’re good.” He releases me and clasps the rogue feline, now purring in contentment, against his chest. Trevor’s brows pull together as he looks down at her. “Bad kitty.”

I’m taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart when he looks up at me, concern lining his face. “Are you alright?”

My shoulder stings, so I slip my arm out of my sweatshirt and pull it up to take a look, grateful for the tank top I’m wearing underneath. When I realize I can’t see it myself, I turn to let Trevor inspect me.

He winces. “Looks like you have a few scratches.”

“Yikes, kitty, you really pack a punch.” I want to be mad, but end up scratching her head. There’s a reason why God made baby things so cute – to protect them when they’re naughty.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she did that. You want some alcohol to clean it with?”

“That’s probably a good idea, just in case.”

“This way.” He places the kitten back on her perch and gestures for me to follow him. I skirt around the cat playground cautiously, vigilant against future assaults.

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