Page 41 of Not My Fault

ME: What if we didn’t go out?

EMILY: like you want to cancel tonight?

ME: No, like what if we order in food instead?

EMILY: You wanna come over?

ME: What if you come to my place and I’ll order you dinner?

EMILY: Sounds good to me

I text her my address and she lets me know she’ll be over soon. I quickly clean up my apartment for company. Hiding all my dirty clothes in the laundry bin, cleaning three-day old dishes, and putting away the dildo in my bathroom. I definitely don’t want to explain that to Emily. Sure, she and I flirt, but ever since that night, things have been different between us. Like we aren’t quite sure where we stand anymore. We do a lot of couple things when we don’t need to be. Like when there’s no chance of someone seeing us. And we’ve been spending a lot of time indoors, which is the opposite of how this started.

“Bitsy, Sparks, Cat Burglar!” I call out, knowing they will be hiding when Emily comes over. They are shy at first, so I want to make sure they eat their dinner before she gets here.

They all come out of my bedroom and stop in the kitchen next to their bowls. They must’ve heard me open the cans of food. I plop a bit of food in their bowls and then go back to cleaning up around the place. Cat Burglar knocks over his bowl and I hear the clang as it hits the floor. I turn around and stare at him like a mother displeased with their toddler.

“Dude, why can’t you just leave it there? I know when you’re done, you don’t need to knock it over and make a mess.” I sigh and walk over to clean it up. Thankfully, he was done so there isn’t food all over the floor under it.

“Emily is coming over guys. I really like her, and I think you’ll like her too. She’s very pretty and talented and she’s my girlfriend, but I want her to be my girlfriend for real now. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s complicated.” I continue on, explaining my confusing love life to my cats. They sit near me as I clean. Perched on their back legs, they look like they’relistening intently. Except Cat Burglar, who is off in the living room climbing on the back of the couch.

“Thank you both for not getting into trouble like your brother,” I tell Bitsy and Sparks as I pick up Cat Burglar off the edge of the sofa and put him on the floor.

A notification on my Ring camera lets me know Emily’s here, and I head downstairs to let her in. It’s an old building and the buzzer is a bit temperamental, but at least there is an elevator. When I get to her, she’s smiling behind a baseball cap and sunglasses, her signature in-hiding look. Quickly, I let her in and lead her to the elevator.

“Your building is so nice! Holy shit, your apartment is nicer than mine!” Emily gushes as she walks inside.

“It’s not but thank you.” I laugh.

“It really is, look at this amazing view. You can see the Brooklyn Bridge from here!” she says, standing in front of my huge living room windows.

“It’s also rent controlled.” I like to brag about that whenever I can.

“Now I hate you. We should’ve signed a prenup in this arrangement so I could get this place,” she jokes.

“I think that would only work if we broke up,” I remind her.

“Darn, then I guess I’m out of luck either way.” She laughs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, totally back to normal. My doctor wants to do monthly scans for cysts so we can see before one bursts. But I’m okay for now,” she says proudly.

“That’s awesome.”

“So how come you didn’t want to go out tonight?”

“I had a long day, and I wanted to enjoy a night in. Like, a more relaxing night than possibly getting chased by paparazzi or crazy fans,” I admit.

“I’m sorry. I know how that is.” She sighs but I take her hand.

“No, I get it. It’s just nice sometimes when we can get away from it.” I smile.

I’d be lying if I said there weren’t ulterior motives for inviting her over. I’ve been searching for the right moment to talk to her about how I feel. Even if it is awkward or she doesn’t feel the same, I think I owe it to myself to at least tell her how I feel. It seems like there is something real happening between us and I want to know if it is all in my head or not. Emily and I take a seat on the couch, and I try to figure out the best way to approach this.

“Oh my gosh! Do you have cats?!” Emily asks excitedly as her attention turns behind me.

“Yeah, the black one is Bitsy. The one with white spots is Sparks, and Cat Burglar is around here somewhere. He’s orange, so you can’t miss him,” I explain.

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