Page 72 of The Holy Grail
No wonder it had taken him so long. “Ah, I see.”
Paige tilted her head. “Since you brought up sweaty, needy, mind-blowing sex, what’s the status update on you and Clark Kent? Anything to report?”
Jules grinned. Then, lowering her voice, she filled Paige in on being eaten like a snack on Malcom’s kitchen island, the blow job in his walk-in closet, sex for the first time in his bedroom, then being bent over the counter the following morning as Jules was in the process of making waffles—which ultimately went awry.
When she was finished, Paige looked astounded. “Oh, my God,” she murmured. “You’ve been sleeping over!”
At that moment, David poked his head into the hall. “Are you two going to join us for dinner, or what?”
Despite his earlier nervousness, Malcom ended up enjoying himself immensely during the dinner.
That being said, it started off with a bit of a bang. As they were all taking their seats at the table, an unexpected and jarring howl split the air, coming from somewhere in the loft. Paige and David reacted with barely a jolt, obviously used to such a disturbance, but Malcom and Jules reacted like normal people.
“Holy shit,” Jules cried out, almost dropping her glass of wine on the table.
“Jesus Christ,” Malcom said, popping to his feet as if he might need to be a hero or something. “What was that?”
The howl ripped through the loft again.
“Sorry,” Paige quickly said. “That’s Marshmallow—one of our three cats.”
“Do they all … do that?”
“No. The other two—” she broke off to point to the top of the fridge, where a black cat and a gray cat were silently perched, “—are pretty quiet. Marshmallow is deaf, though, and sometimes howls like that, but it’s usually only once or twice a night.”
“That’s probably the last time,” David added.
Malcom sat down again. “I’ve never heard anything like that before.”
Paige gave him an abashed smile. “It was a surprise to us, too, at first, but we’ve gotten used to it.”
Just as Malcom was trying to imagine getting used to that kind of ruckus, a third howl came, this time with thankfully less volume.
“Okay,thatwas probably the last time,” David said. “She tends to do it more when Jacob isn’t home, because she sleeps in his room and misses him when he’s gone.”
Jules took a drink of her wine. “Malcom has a cat. A tortie.”
Paige immediately perked up with delight, only to frown at Jules. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I just did.”
“I meantbefore.”
Knowing Paige was referring to their conversation at Macaroni’s, Jules shrugged. “Sorry. It must have slipped my mind.”
Turning to Malcom, Paige asked, “So, you have a cat?”
To his surprise, Jules went on to share the details of how Dawn Corleone had come to be his pet, and even though Jules poked fun at him again for mis-gendering the cat and making Paige and David laugh, Malcom didn’t mind. It was a nice moment while he watched the woman he was falling for talk about him, with animation and affection.
The meal itself was also great—a perfectly prepared lasagna, fresh green beans, and side salads made from a mix of spring greens, topped with a drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
“This is amazing,” Malcom said, not knowing who had actually put the meal together.
“Thank you,” David returned.
With her wine glass held in front of her mouth, Jules whispered to Malcom, “Your salads are better.”
“I heard that,” David said.
