Page 10 of Things We Fake
I paused. “A cat café,” I echoed, just to be sure I’d heard him right. “As in… cats? And café?”
He nodded, completely serious. “Yeah. It’s amazing. You get to sip your oat milk latte while a tabby naps on your feet. They do themed dishes, too. Last week I had a wrap called The Whisker-lickin’ Good.Tuna, catnip-infused hummus, little edible paw prints stamped on the pita. Honestly? Transcendent.”
In my mind popped a sudden image of myself, Ange, Jesse, Nikki, and Lily surrounded by cats. There were cats all over us, in our laps, on our shoulders, on our heads. Now that would be an interesting hat to wear for the Easter parade—and the girls had already started torturing me with requests to go hat shopping.
I cleared my throat before I burst into laughter. “Sounds very cozy.”
“And great for stress relief. Cats lower your cortisol levels. Plus, they’re intuitive. They just know when you need a snuggle. I’m a Leo, so I’ve always felt connected to felines.”
Of course he was a Leo.
Before I could respond with something snarky about how I wasn’t sure if I wanted my wrap kneaded like bread dough by an emotional support feline, Lou returned with our drinks. He handed me my hot chocolate and set a steaming mug of very normal-looking coffee in front of Sam with zero commentary.
Sam took a reverent sniff, then a tentative sip. “Mmm. Not bad. Could be Guatemalan. Definitely not EthiopianYirgacheffe, but I’ll take it.”
I had no idea what any of that meant, but I nodded like a fellow coffee snob who just happened to be taking the day off. “Shall we get that table?”
“Lead the way, Sue.”
I picked a table for two in a corner away from the speakers, so we could make conversation without much trouble. As Sam walked behind me, I cheered in my head. He was so handsome I was shy looking at him.And he loved cats. I could forgive any other eccentricities to a man who loved cats. I had no idea what he was doing on a blind date. A man like this should be surrounded by adoring women.
He set the drinks on the table, then held the chair for me. I smiled up at him, handing him one of the menus I’d carried.
My stomach gave a loud growl, which I hoped to cover with small talk. “I hope you’ll like the food here. It’s really good.”
Sam sat across from me, frowning thoughtfully. “Do they use organic ingredients? I try to keep everything I consume as pure as possible.”
That explained the way he looked. I was starting to think I stumbled across one of the health nuts I passed by at the gym.
I looked down at the menu. “I think they have some organic options. I’m really craving a burger. Are you into burgers?”
Sam looked like I’d slapped him with a bacon strip. “God, no. Processed meats are slow suicide. I’ll have a look at the salads.”
I waited while Sam agonized over the limited menu. When a server finally arrived, I was ready to start gnawing on my own foot. If processed meat was slow suicide, I’d rather die later than now, thank you.
“I’ll have a well-done cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake,” I said.
Sam set aside his menu, looking resigned. “I’ll have the Caesar Salad. But could you make it an Imperial Caesar Elixir?”
The server was startled out of her boredom. “A what?”
“It’s a variation,” Sam explained, deadly serious. “Organic romaine, gluten-free croutons, a double anchovy drizzle—preferably Mediterranean—and a swirl of cold-pressed olive oil. Ideally harvested under a full moon, but I understand that’s seasonal.”
There was a long silence. Then the server scribbled something down, probablyquack alert, and wandered off to break the news to the cook.
After she left, I leaned back in my chair. The guy was high maintenance, to say the least. I’d always wondered what those buff people on TV ate, and now I knew. Delusions!
I sipped my hot chocolate. “So, I gather you’re into healthy living.”
Sam nodded. “With my kind of job, I need to eat healthy and stay active. I go for a run every day at five, and four times a week I hit the gym.”
“An afternoon jog sounds nice.”
“No, I meant five a.m. You should join me one morning.”
It was all I could do not to spray hot chocolate all over him. “I’d rather sleep at that hour. I have to wake up at six anyway, so I can get to school.”
I waited for him to ask me about my job, or ask anything about me. When he remained silent, frowning at his undoubtedly non-organically sourced coffee, I decided to bite the bullet. I was so hungry I could eat an entire arsenal anyway.
