Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Just bring her to my house,” I say before I can hold back the words. “She’s happier there anyway, with her view of the ocean. She’s the queen, and we’re merely her subjects.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“How about this? I’ll get a litter box and some food bowls, and she can just come back and forth with you. Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” A slow smile spreads over her mouth. “Yeah, that would be awesome. We’d like that.”
To my surprise, she pushes up onto her toes and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that isn’t chaste, but also isn’t indecent.
It’s a sweet, familiar kiss that makes it clear to anyone watching that we’re together.
And I’m just fine with that.
“I’m going to get going,” she says. “I can relieve Angela early, give her a break.”
“Don’t be surprised if Petunia is at my place when you get home. She can hang with me this evening.”
“Thank you.” She walks away and blows me a kiss. “Really, thanks.”
“Have a good day, dear.”
When I walk back into the gallery, I’m pleasantly surprised to see several patrons strolling around, taking in the art.
Wayne’s eyebrows climb when he sees the books in my hands.
“You went shopping?”
“No, I’m just taking these home for Sarah.” I stow them on my desk in my office. “How are things here?”
“They picked up a bit,” he says. “I sold a bronze sculpture.”
“Awesome. I can afford to keep you another day.”
He smirks. “Right.”
With the litter box and bowls set up, I walk over to Sarah’s with her books and let myself in.
Petunia comes running.
“Hey, baby.” I pick her up, and she cuddles right into my neck. “Aw, are you lonely? Okay, come on home with me. I just have to find your food.”
I open the pantry door and retrieve her food, then fill up the plastic bag I brought with me before locking Sarah’s door behind me and setting off for my place, with the cat and her food in hand.
As soon as I set Petunia on the floor, she scurries to the loveseat by the window, climbs into her favorite spot, and settles in to watch the sunset.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”
Not surprisingly, she ignores me as I fill her bowls with food and water and then start making myself dinner.
Halfway into boiling pasta, my phone rings.
“Yello,” I say as I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can stir the pasta.
“I need some help,” Apollo says. “I’m trying to move some furniture here at my place, and I need an extra set of hands before I kill myself over here.”
“Do you need me to come right away, or can I come after dinner?”
“What are you making?”
I laugh. “Chicken scampi.”
“Do you have enough for two?”
“I’ll add bread. Give me thirty to finish cooking and pack it up.”
“Thanks, man.”
I sigh and glance over at Petunia, who hasn’t looked away from the view for an instant. She’s too enthralled by watching the people walk the beach, and probably by the waves themselves.
“Were you once a beach cat before you were rescued?”
No answer.
Before long, I have everything done and packed up, so I head out to Apollo’s place. He doesn’t live on the water, says it’s too much work to maintain a house that’s constantly exposed to direct salt air, and he’s right.
It’s a lot of upkeep.
I turn onto his street and park in front of the little place he bought close to ten years ago now, and climb the cement steps to the front door.
“Hey, thanks,” Apollo says as he opens the door. “For the help and the food.”
“It’s never fun to eat alone. Let’s move furniture after food.”
“Good call.”
I follow him into the small galley kitchen and see that he’s already set out plates and forks.
None of it matches each other.
With our plates loaded, we sit in the living room and dig in.
“You’ve lived here for a decade,” I announce after looking around the space.
“Yeah?”
“And you haven’t hung even one thing on the walls.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m hardly here. I’ve been meaning to hang something.”
“For ten years.”
“Not all of us are art experts, okay?”
“But most adults don’t live like—”
“Like what?”
I chew my bread. “Like coeds.”
Apollo takes in his house and shrugs again. “It’s clean. That’s really all I need.”
“Someday, a woman is going to come into your life and turn it upside down.”
“See? Why do I have to hang anything? Someday, someone else will do it.”
“That’s a great way to think about it.”
When we’ve finished eating, Apollo puts the dishes in the dishwasher and then gestures for me to follow him.
“It’s in here.”
“If it’s the size of Alaska, I’m gonna be pissed, man.”
“Half the size.” He laughs and turns into his bedroom. “I’m getting rid of all of this furniture.”
“All of it?”
“Well, except for the mattress and box spring.”
“Why?”
He tries to act nonchalant, but then he rubs his hand over his face.