Page 92 of The Catch

“What?” He reached for the coffee maker, but she shook her head. The bag slipped off onto the snowy stoop.

“I don’t want to go back to before all of this, Josh. I’m not the same. We’re not the same.” She shifted the machine into the crook of one arm, balancing it on her hip, and reached up with her gloved hand to grab his shirt. “My clothes are in that bag. Enough for at least a few days until I can get the rest. I’m not going anywhere, so ask me again.”

“Cat…”

“Don’t say no. I can’t take it.”

He couldn’t either. Even if he had any inclination left to fight this, he definitely didn’t have the heart to. Everything he wanted was literally knocking on his door. “I’m not going to say no, Cat.” He leaned over her armful and kissed her forehead, then her lips. “But are you sure? You have to be sure.”

“I’m so sure. I’ve spent years being afraid, Josh. Afraid of looking foolish for believing in something that might turn out to not be real. Afraid of getting attached. Well, it doesn’t get much more foolish than standing in the sleet, holding my DeLonghi, and asking to move into your house, and I’m already hopelessly attached. So take my heart or break it, Josh, but do it now because I’m freezing.”

He laughed, causing his chest to throb, but it was worth it. This time he wrestled the machine out of her arms and pulled her against his chest, kissing her freezing cold lips. “Come on,” he said, tugging the sleeve of her coat.

“Wait! You didn’t ask.”

“I thought you were freezing. I have pneumonia, you know? Can we do this inside?”

“No. Ask me.”

He shook his head, but stepped closer, cupping her face with his free hand. “Move in with me, Cat. All our nights could be like this.”

“It’s going to be hard to make it work,” she said. Her eyes started to water, and her voice trailed. “With our jobs, real-world stuff…”

“Everything’s harder than being on vacation.”

She nodded, the motion spilling the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Not everything.”

Cat stood beside him at the sink, brushing her teeth and wearing his pajama pants again. She’d packed enough dresses for the week, but somehow sleepwear had slipped her mind—not that he was complaining.

“I can’t believe you brought your own toothpaste,” he said around his mouthful.

“Spearmint, Josh. Your peppermint would have been a dealbreaker, just like the coffee maker.”

He laughed, nudging her with his hip before rinsing. “Noted.”

“So, how are we going to do this?” she asked. “The logistics, I mean.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Like… finances, closet space. I haven’t even filled my drawer yet. I have a lot of stuff.”

She finished her own brushing and followed him into the bedroom, where he started pulling the sheets off of his bed. She went around the other side to help.

“Well, you should probably get the groceries,” he said. “I don’t want to get yelled at for buying your food again.”

“Okay, smartass. Where are the clean sheets?”

“Top shelf of the closet. We’ll figure all of that out, Cat.”

Cat crossed the room and climbed up on the chair beside the closet to reach the top shelf. As she tugged a set of sheets free, a little black box came tumbling down onto the floor. He froze, watching as she hopped down and picked up the velvet container, flipping it around in her fingers.

She looked at him with saucer-sized eyes, and it was as though someone had lassoed him off of the cloud he’d woken up on and dropped him back onto the hard ground. If anything would make her freeze up again, it was that.

“Josh, when you asked me to move in, were you going to—”

“No,” he said, but the quickness of his answer felt like a lie. He had no plan, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. If she’d found that ring a few weeks ago, he might have put it on her finger right then and there. He was glad it hadn’t happened that way, though. When he finally did give her that ring, he wanted to be sure he would never have to watch her take it off.

“That was my mother’s ring,” he explained as she opened the box, revealing the princess cut diamond wrapped in a platinum, filigree setting. He hadn’t looked at it in a long time, and a myriad of memories, tangled with the emotion of seeing it in Cat’s hand, rushed him.

“Was it Sarah’s too?”

“No. Sarah tried to give me hers back after the divorce, but I didn’t want it. I told her to keep it, pawn it. Whatever she wanted.” He took the box from her, running his thumb over the band. “She didn’t want this one.”

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