Page 58 of Interference

It had to come crashing in at some point, though. Even if this really was the step we’d needed to take, there had to be some grief. Some processing. Something.

If there was, it wasn’t happening today. Maybe because I’d had a convenient distraction ever since I’d woken up. A pleasant one, too; wandering through the store with Wyatt—it was fun. It was chill. No second-guessing everything I said or bought. No eggshells crunching ominously beneath my feet.

Well, even when the grief and heartache did inevitably set in, today had driven one thing home—there was life after Simon, and that life was good.

I drove us across Redmond to Mary’s, a hole-in-the-wall café Nova had taken us to shortly after I’d arrived in Seattle. It was one of those places that didn’t look like much from the outside or even on the inside, but the food was spectacular. Their sandwiches were simple, but always perfect, with just the right amount of homemade sauces to make them amazing. Their Hollandaise was the best I’d ever had, and they had some salad dressings that were as unique as they were incredible. And that was to say nothing of their burgers; Nova was always on the prowl for the perfect burger when we were on the road, and more than once, he’d announced that, “This is good, but still not as good as Mary’s.”

I had to agree.

It was also reasonably priced. Since Wyatt was insisting on buying lunch, it was just the ticket.

The hostess glanced at Lily, but her pleasant expression didn’t falter and she didn’t ask any questions about the dog. Instead, she showed us to a table for four instead of two, even though there were some two-seaters available. I almost suggested one of the smaller tables, but when Lily settled under the table, I kept my mouth shut. She was a big dog, and she’d have much more space under there. Plus we were up against a wall, so there was less chance of someone stepping on her paw or tail.

Wyatt kept the leash looped around his forearm as he perused the menu. Beneath the table, Lily rested her head on her paws.

“She’s okay down there?” I asked before picking up my own menu.

“Oh, yeah. She’s trained the chill under the table when we’re at a restaurant.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Do you have enough room for your feet?”

I nodded. “She’s got her back leg on my foot, but that’ll keep me from forgetting she’s there. I don’t want to kick her or anything.”

His smile did things to my heart that it probably shouldn’t have. “I appreciate that. If you bump her or something, she’ll just move.”

I glanced down, making sure I knew exactly where she and my feet were, and then faced Wyatt again. “I won’t bump her. Promise.”

He half-shrugged. “It happens. Honestly, it does. And you’re obviously not the kind of person who’d kick her, so—”

“Oh my God, no.” I shook my head. “I stepped on Bear’s paw a few weeks ago, and I probably annoyed the shit out of him apologizing and making sure he was okay.”

Wyatt’s soft laugh made my heart jump again. “You know, having watched you with your boys, I can totally picture that.”

Some heat rose in my face. “You should see when I brush them.”

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded as I reached for my water glass. “I have to do it a lot because their coats are so thick, and whenever I find a knot…” I grimaced.

“I bet.” Wyatt gestured downward. “That’s been one perk with her—she sheds like crazy, but I don’t think God Himself could get fur that short to knot up.”

“Ugh, must be nice. Don’t get me wrong—I love my big fluffy cats—but there are days when I think I might get one of those hairless things next.”

He snorted. “You should get one now. It would be funny to see them side by side. Bear would be all, ‘What the fuck is that alien thing?’ And Moose would absolutely be like, ‘Put some clothes on, you little freak.’”

I was laughing as he spoke. “That’s—yes. That’s exactly what they would think. Bear would be confused and Moose would be offended. A hundred percent.”

He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is Bear really that, uh…”

“Stupid?”

“Well, I… I don’t want to be mean or anything.”

“It’s okay. He’s stupid.” I sipped my water. “He’s the sweetest cat, and I love his personality. But… let’s put it this way. They both like to drink out of the bathroom faucet sometimes. Moose is smart enough to do it without getting water all over himself. Bear?” I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God. He ends up with water on his head, in his ears, all over his neck… Like, dude, you’ve been doing this for four years, and you still haven’t figured it out?”

Wyatt laughed again. “That must be hilarious.”

“It really is. I think I have like fifty videos of it on my phone.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you? Can I see one?”

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