Page 66 of False Start
He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “We’ll come up with something.” As we leave the office complex on the edge of the French Quarter, he reaches over, takes my hand in his again, and brings it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles. “Let’s go pick up takeout. It’s late, and practice wore me out. I want to fill my belly, have a beer, and relax on the couch with you.”
It’s been a long day at work for me as well, so his plan sounds perfect. Still, I’m shy to tell him so. I don’t want to give him too much hope therapy will work. We’ve yet to address his infidelity in detail, and I don’t know how I’ll feel or act when we do. I’ve been known to fly off the handle when it comes to the topic. Instead of ruining the good vibe with my thoughts, I say, “Sounds good.”
We drove separately to the session, so we agree to meet at my place after he picks up Chinese food for dinner. Once I arrive home, I take the extra time to change into shorts and a tank to beat the heat. Bryant knocks at my back door about half an hour later.
“Come in!” He comes in with a plastic bag in one hand and a creature in the other that might resemble a cat. “What are you holding?”
“It’s a kitten, woman.”
“Why are you holding a kitten?”
“I found him outside the Chinese restaurant. He meowed at me.”
God. The little thing can’t be six weeks old. I’m pretty sure his coat is supposed to be white, but it’s dirty and from here I can tell it’s also smelly. Debris of some sort is caked into the area around his nose and mouth. “Poor little guy. What made you pick him up and bring him with you?”
“He looks sick, Z. What kind of person would I be if I left a defenseless kitten out in the streets?”
“He does look sick. We should find an after-hours veterinarian to check him out.”
And that’s what we do as we eat Chinese food in the waiting room of the local vet’s office and pass the kitten back and forth. The doctor looks him over, determines he’s around four weeks old, and prescribes him antibiotics for a respiratory infection. “Bathe him in Dawn soap when you get home to take care of the fleas.”
“What should we feed him?”
“My nurse will provide you with bottles and formula to get him through the next few weeks. He can eat soft kitten food as tolerated.”
Bryant hands me his wallet to pay for the bill because he doesn’t want to put the kitten down. I find it absolutely adorable that he’s concerned for the animal. I take the wallet and open it to find he still carries a picture of us from our wedding day inside. It tugs at my heart as I reach for the card to pay the cashier.
Inside the car on the way home, I listen to the kitty meow as I drive Bryant and him back to my house. “We can call a few local organizations that will help find him a home and someone who can care for him while he’s on formula.”
“I have a lot of money. I’ll just hire someone to help me.”
“You’re keeping him?!”
“Sure, why not?”
“Cats can live forever. It’s a huge commitment.” When I park the car in my drive, I reach over and pet the kitten’s head. He meows at me, and I can’t help but smile at the sound. “He’s cute. Why are you keeping him?”
“Everyone deserves to live their best life and be loved while they do it. This little guy is our homework. With teamwork and a cat sitter, we’re going to make sure he’ll have a great life and all the love he could ever want. We both have a lot of love to give, babe, and I think we need this.”
I pull my phone out and snap a picture of Bryant and the kitten. “He needs a name.”
“I already have a name.”
I smirk at him. “You do?”
“Punter.”
“Aww.”
“Shut up, woman.”
I pull up the picture of Bryant and Punter on my phone and quickly post it to his social media with the hashtags #bigbadquarterback #PuntertheKitten #TheresACatSomewhereUnderneathTheDirt #NewOrleansVoodoo.
“What did you just do?”
“Posted a picture of you looking super macho on social media.”
“Come here,” he says and crooks his finger at me.
