Page 59 of Hate Notes

The elevator smoothly began its ascent.

“I’m guessing that means this elevator opens directly to your apartment? Yeah. That’s fancy. What do you do if somebody is in here when you want to go home? What if they refuse to get off on their floor and ride right to your place?”

“I would glare them into submission.”

Ember shot me a surprised look. “Was that a joke, Mr. Foster?”

“A poor attempt, yes.”

“I liked it,” she said, smiling and leaning in as she wrapped her arms around my bicep, laying her head on my shoulder. “I like it when you’re not so serious all the time.”

I cleared my throat, looking for a way to change the subject as the elevator seemed to crawl toward my apartment. “I should warn you about my cat,” I said slowly. “He’s… unique. And don’t be offended if he only glares at you from the shadows. He likes to do that to intimidate people.”

“You have a cat? Somehow I can’t picture that.”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping forward when the elevator doors opened to my apartment. “It was Remmy’s fault. She gifted him to me, giving me no choice.”

“Ah,” she said, glancing around my penthouse apartment. I found myself seeing it through her eyes—stark, modern, everything in its place. Almost sterile, really. The only signs of actual life were Goblin's cat tower by the window and his water fountain near the kitchen.

"Very you," she said with a small smile. "Though I expected more spreadsheets on the walls."

“Not in the living room,” I said. “I hang those in my home office.”

She looked at me over her shoulder, lips curving into another smile as her eyes searched me. “Another joke?”

“Yes…” I said slowly.That one hadn’t actually been a joke.I really did like to post certain documents to the wall in my home office for easy access and reminders of goals.

I shouldn't have invited her up. The smart thing would have been to say goodnight after dinner. But something about the way she'd looked in the soft restaurant lighting, her cheeks flushedfrom wine and laughter, had made me want to stretch the evening longer.

Now she was wandering my living room, running her fingers along my bookshelves, and I couldn't stop staring at her. The sapphire blue dress she'd worn to dinner hugged every curve, and her dark hair fell in soft waves down her back. But it was more than that. There was something almost luminous about her tonight, as if getting to know the real me had made her shine brighter somehow.

Or was it that this new me was better able to see and appreciate her for what she was?

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, and I turned to find Goblin had materialized on the back of my sofa, studying her with his usual disdain. "He looks like Catman's evil twin."

"Goblin is many things, but evil twin implies there's a good twin somewhere."

She laughed, holding out her hand for Goblin to sniff. To my shock, he immediately headbutted her palm, purring.

"Traitor," I muttered in disbelief.

"He knows I speak cat," she said, scratching under his chin. "Don't you, handsome boy?"

"He's hardly handsome.”

"Hey now," she protested. "Some of us appreciate unique beauty. Look at those extra toes! And those wrinkles! He's perfect."

I watched her coo over my supposedly terrifying cat, something warm and dangerous expanding in my chest. "You're the first person besides me he's ever liked."

"Really?" She looked pleased. "Maybe he can sense I have an ancient, possibly immortal cat of my own. Maybe that’s why Catman was nice to you, too. He sensed you had your own little beast at home."

"About that… How old is Catman exactly?"

"Nobody knows," she said seriously. "He might have witnessed the birth of civilization. He might be older than time itself. Or he might just be a really old regular cat who likes to act mysterious."

I found myself smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"Says the man who organizes stranger's garages when drunk."

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