Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Oh!” Charlotte gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Hi! You’re okay,” she cooed to the cat when it looked at her. “You’re here with us,” she said, reaching out toward him and petting his head.
“Unfortunately, his owner passed away, and he was taken to the shelter,” I said.
“That must have been scary,” Charlotte said, carefully putting her hands around the cat’s waist. “It’s okay to be sad,” she added, pulling him out of the box and settling him on her lap. “But we can try to make you happy again. Family helps,” she added, rubbing his head as he purred.
Alara glanced over at me, and I could read the thoughts running across her head.
We can’t give this cat back.
A loud, hacking cough sounded to our side.
“Fuck,” Liam hissed, cradling his aching ribs.
For once, I let the curse slide.
I couldn’t imagine how much it sucked to have a cough with bruised ribs. I was pretty sure my own language would be more colorful than an f-bomb.
“What’s that?” he asked, moving to the back of the couch with the gait of an achy eighty-year-old.
“A gremlin. We need to make sure we don’t feed it after midnight,” Alara said, making the kid’s brows furrow. “I guess we have to add that to our list of movies to watch. It’s a foster cat. He… he belonged to Robin.”
Understanding crossed Liam’s face as he reached past Charlotte’s shoulder to pet the cat. Only to get a nasty hiss and a swat of a small, sharp-nailed foot.
“Ha!” Alara cheered, making Liam’s brows shoot up, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s what you get for stealing my dog’s love.”
“Did I steal it, or did he give it to me freely?” he shot back.
“Sure, rub it in,” she said, petting the kitten.
When I reached out, though, I got the same treatment Liam did.
“I like this cat,” Alara decided.
“Me too,” Charlotte agreed, leaning down to press her cheek to the kitten’s soft fur. “Does he have a name?”
“Oh, um…” Alara said as I reached for the box, finding some partially shredded paperwork in there with him.
“Binx,” I read off the paperwork.
“Binx. Like the movie we watched with Mom,” Charlotte said.
A slice of pain crossed her and Liam’s faces. I felt the same pain in my chest. It was duller than it had been eight months ago, but still there. Some part of me hoped it would always be. The pain was proof of the love.
“That’s my favorite Halloween movie,” Alara said.
“My mom’s too. And mine,” Charlotte said, giving Alara a small smile.
“It’s the perfect name then.”
Once all of his stuff arrived about an hour later—a fancy automatic litter box, a massive cat tree, toys, bowls, and beds—it was even clearer that looking for a new apartment needed to be at the top of my list of things to do.
Because between the kids, me, Tuna, Binx, and Alara’s things that still hadn’t been moved in yet, we were going to be testing the strength of our seams in no time.
Alara - 5 months
It was crazy, when life stood still enough to allow me to reflect, how quickly everything changed.
I’d gone from so incredibly alone and, yes, lonely (even if I never would have admitted that) to being surrounded by people and love that almost felt too big for my body to hold at times.
Before Christopher, my days revolved around the shop, walking my dog, obsessing over my stalker board, occasional trips to see my family, and sleep.
That was it.
There wasn’t someone to talk to over the table, no one to cuddle close with in bed after a hard day, no one to lean on, not much to plan or dream about.
Now, I was never alone. I didn’t have to worry about who was going to feed or walk Tuna. I didn’t have to sit alone in my apartment night after night, trying to convince myself that the sinking sensation in me was anything but loneliness and longing.
I had Christopher to help ease the burdens of life, the weight of banal, boring adult shit.
I had Liam to trade lighthearted jabs with, to help run an errand if I wasn’t feeling like it.
I had Charlotte to share books and movies with.
And I had all of them to plan with, dream with.
“Ugh!” Charlotte growled as she stormed through the door of the pawnshop with the kind of drama only a thirteen-year-old could successfully adopt.
I didn’t even know her all that long, but it felt like time was going too fast. Even as I planned her extravagant birthday party (which included an overnight sleepover in a bookstore and the biggest sweet treat buffet known to mankind), it felt like it was too soon to have another teenager in the house.
“What happened?” I asked, dusting off a shelf of Russian nesting dolls that had been sitting in the shop as long as I’d been running it.