Page 12 of A Little Christmas Jericho
Daisy whined softly from the floor, tail thumping. Murphy barked once, sharp, like he was giving me fashion advice.
"Oh, don't start," I muttered at the crazy dog while pulling myself upright. "None of you have ever tried to look sassyandclassyandsexy at the same time. It's not easy!"
I rifled through my closet one more time before finally landing on the outfit that felt... right. A slim-fit button-down, dark jeansthat hugged in all the right places, my sharpest jacket, and... because I couldn't resist... a fedora. The hat tipped just so in the mirror made me smirk at my own reflection.
Sweet, sassy, sexy and a smidge ridiculous. Perfect.
"Okay," I told myself, straightening the brim like it was my battle armor. "You're not showing up to this thing as Nervous Jericho. You're going to be hot, confident and sassy. The Jericho who made Doctor Daddy ask you on a date."
My phone buzzed on the dresser with a message notification. My stomach flipped, half-terrified it was Colter canceling and half-hoping it was him begging me to come early.
I stared at it for a long moment, fedora still cocked on my head, heart hammering like I was about to walk into a lion's den instead of a Christmas fundraiser.
Dammit, Jericho, just check your phone.
Oh no.
Oscar.
My stomach dropped even before I opened it, and when I did, my pulse spiked hot with anger.
Oscar: You haven't made plans to fetch your stuff from my place yet. Does that mean you're finally getting rid of your pests?
Pests.
Pests!
That asshole! My babies were not pests. The dogs who curled against me when the nightmares came, and the cats who always seemed to know exactly when I was at my loneliest. They were my family. The family he never wanted to be part of.
I tipped my chin and stared at myself in the mirror, jaw tight.
"Sweet, sexy, sassy, classy." Maybe if I said it often enough it would ring true.
I would not let Oscar ruin my happy vibe. I was going on a date with Doctor Daddy, and that was something worth celebrating.
I scooped the phone off the dresser, jammed it into my pocket, and marched out of the bedroom before I did something rash. Like, throw it through the window.
My babies were waiting. They’d both grown tired of watching me get dressed and wandered to the lounge.
Murphy was sprawled on the couch, tail thumping the moment he saw me. Daisy was curled against him, ears twitching, those big worried eyes tracking me like she thought I might disappear again. Finch perched on the back of the armchair, while sweet, grumpy Tofu huffed at me from his spot on the cat tree.
I sank down onto the couch, and instantly had a hundred and twenty pounds of anxious dog draped across my lap.
Was she too big? Sure.
Did she, or I for that matter, care? Not a fucking chance.
I buried my face in Daisy's neck, breathing her in, and letting our cuddle do the work to soothe both our nerves.
"You're not pests," I whispered fiercely against her fur. "You're perfect."
Murphy barked once, as if to second what I'd said, then promptly tried to climb all the way on top of both of us. I groaned at him as Daisy sent a disgruntled look my way.
"Baby, you shouldn't be climbing, remember. You're gonna put your hip out again," I scolded him as I carefully lifted him and put him down in the spot next to me.
I took in my kitties and sighed in contentment. There it was. The center of my world. A ridiculous chaotic pile of fur, slobber and unconditional love.
"Okay, okay," I murmured, pressing kisses to whichever head was closest. "One last cuddle session for luck, then your boy has to go look pretty and hopefully not make a fool of himself in front of Doctor Daddy."
