Page 60 of Love is an Open Book
“Okay, but...” I trail off, not sure of how to argue with that. “I feel like I’m in way over my head.” My parents vetoed pets because they said running a business was hard enough without adding animals to the mix. Other than the semiferal barn cats that had free rein of the property, I have zero experience with pets. “I don’t know how to raise one cat, let alone a whole litter.”
“We’re not going to raise them, that’s the mama cat’s job,” she says. “We’re just babysitting.” Thewepart of that sentence cheers me up a little, but I’m still not loving the thought of taking care of pets on top of everything else going on.
“Okay, but for how long?” I drop my voice to a whisper out of respect for the kittens, who’ve fallen asleep curled next to their mother. “How soon can we put them up for adoption?” I’m pretty sure that’s one of the answers the vet covered, but I was so overwhelmed by all the information, I can’t remember.
But Mia took notes, and the way she sticks her tongue in her cheek, avoiding my eyes, is answer enough. “About a month.”
A whole month of caring for four unexpected pets while navigating the trope tests, if we’re even doing those, and figuring out what to do about my dad’s retirement. Overwhelmed, I sink down to the floor, my back against the washer. Mia joinsme, groaning with the effort, and I wince in secondhand pain, knowing full well how sore her muscles must be. She leans on my shoulder for support, and the press of her fingertips reminds me of everything that happened between us last night.
By the time she’s settled against the dryer next to me, I’m buzzing with the need to pull her close, in a way I never would’ve allowed myself to dream of until this summer. But with an entire cat family a few feet away acting as witnesses, thoughts are about all I can hope for.
Cold air blasts from a floor vent, and I make a mental note to get a few blankets for the kittens. Do they need a bed? A litter box is top of the list. My head begins to swim from preemptive exhaustion, and I let my eyes fall closed. Mia nudges me.
“Hey, I can help. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
I open my eyes enough to see her concerned face, surrounded by springy curls. “No way. You need to be writing.”
“What if I stayed here?”
I make a solid effort not to read into that. “Stayed over?”
“Just to help keep an eye on them while you’re at work. It might even be good for me to write in new surroundings. Getting out of my office where I was blocked for so long might be just what I need.”
“During the day, you mean.”
“Of course. I’d never...” She looks down at her hands in her lap. “That would be presumptuous. And you’ll be here to watch them at night. No reason for me to stay over.”
No need, but I wouldn’t say no reason. “I think we should talk about last night.”
Her brown eyes meet mine, not startled, but wary. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“Get what?”
“It was a mistake.” She looks down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “We were exhausted, and you’d bandaged me. It’s a classic caretaking scene. Nothing more.”
“Are you trying to say we kissed because I put a Band-Aid on your blisters?”
“Well, it was more of a—” she makes a vague wrapping gesture “—bandage. Very gallant. Romance-novel worthy.”
I’m even more confused now. “And you think I kissed you because that moment was...” I search for the right word, but they all feel wrong. “Sexy, or something? You were hurt.” Nothing sexy about seeing her in pain.
“Not sexy. Intimate. The kiss was just a result of that unexpected intimacy.” She enunciates each word, as if she’s been rehearsing.
My stomach lurches. “Do you regret it?”
“Don’t you?” She’s not looking at me, and I realize I’ve played this all wrong.
“Not at all.”
Her eyes fly to mine. “You left. I figured that meant it was a mistake.”
“No. Oh, Mia.” I shift toward her, wanting to reach out, but not sure yet. “I was just scared. We promised never to do anything like that, and I thought I might’ve ruined everything.”
“You didn’t.” She looks over at me with those deep brown eyes. “But I don’t know where to go from here. All I know is I want to do it again.”
Her confession unlocks everything holding me back and I lean over and kiss her, unable to resist another moment. The touch of her lips sends tingles up my spine. This is what I’ve been searching for. I don’t have a name for it, but I’ve found it here, with her. A loud yowl cuts through the pulse thundering in my ears and we break apart.
Mama Cat is glaring at us, tail twitching with animosity.
