Page 110 of Not Catching Love

“I’m ready for it all.”

“You say that, and then next minute, you’re on a roof, pants around your ankles, with no clue how you got there. Christian sure has kept my life interesting.”

“You were … what?”

Elle pats my shoulder gently, like what she said is perfectly normal. “Garden parties are the worst, darling. Never let me invite you to one.”

“Noted.”

She hums lightly. “It’s sort of strange to think this is it.”

“What is?”

“Well … Chris and my brother. Seven and Mols. Rush and the Hunter. Gabe moved out before I really knew him. Madden’s just moved in with Penn. Things are changing, and I get the feeling nothing will be quite like this again.”

She’s echoing the thoughts I had about Xander moving out.

“Not all change is bad,” I point out.

“Of course not. Change is growth, which I think is beautiful. But life tends to be segmented up into a whole list of befores and afters. Before you can remember, before you were a teenager, after you became an adult. High school and college. Before you had your license. Before you lost someone you loved. Right now, it feels like one of those dividing moments. Like we had before Bertha, and now after. Soon, there’ll only be Kismet left. Ready to hiss at whoever comes next.”

“You think the others will leave?”

“I think it’s only a matter of time, love. Chris and my brother are hanging in there.”

“Do … you think Xander, Seven, and Molly will move?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she watches them. “Yes. But it hurts my heart to think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re not supposed to be apart.”

I know exactly what she means. I’m hoping things are easier for Seven now that he knows I’ve got Xander’s back too. Now that Seven doesn’t have to support him alone.

But how do you separate two people who have been through so much together?

I know what Xander went through the one time they tried, and while it will be different now, I never want him to have to choose. Xander’s doing so well, and the last thing I want is for him to struggle more than he needs to.

How do I let him leave?

How do I let him walk away from the only family he’s ever had?

A year, two years, ten. It will always be too soon for him.

A headache builds behind one eye as I realize I’m going to have to be the one making the hard choices here.

The squashed-face orange tabby trots into the room and plonks himself right on my feet.

“Hey, boy,” I say, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears.

The whole room goes silent.

“You’re … touching him,” Seven says.

I glance up and find everyone watching me. “Am I not supposed to?”

Kismet lets out arawrsound and wraps himself through my legs in a figure eight.

---