Page 41 of Faking It with the Firefighter

He rubbed his head against my palm, then daintily stepped off my legs and slinked over toward Rex’s pile of stuff. His tail flicked back and forth as he paused by Rex’s shoes, glancing over his shoulder to stare at me. Then he scampered to the bed, using my bedside table to hop up onto the mattress before curling into a tight black ball in the center of my bed.

Curious, I tiptoed over to Rex’s pile of belongings. And right there in his left shoe was a perfectly formed cat turd. I rolled my lips inward to stop from laughing, glancing at the cat on my bed.

Winston had one eye open, watching me.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I told him, and he closed his eye. His tail made a soft whisper of sound as it brushed over my duvet. I climbed up beside him and gave him more scritches behind his ears. “You really can’t poop in people’s shoes, Winston. It’s not nice. But thank you. He deserved it.”

The cat didn’t respond, but after a few more moments, his purring started up again, and most of the aggression plaguing me melted away.

FOURTEEN

ABIGAIL

I had to say,there was something nice about having a new man in my life. And I thought it was sweet how he nudged me awake with his sweet little paws. I opened my eyes as a soft meow spilled from his furry mouth.

“Well, good morning to you too.”

Mid-morning sun streamed in through the curtains. I glanced at the glowing red numbers on my nightstand. Oh, yeah, I’d overslept. Falling asleep next to Rex Montgomery wasn’t as easy as it had been the night before. I’d kept my body stiff at the edge of the bed so as not to accidentally touch him. Any part of him. He hadn’t said much to me last night, and that had been fine by me.

I rolled over and found the other half of my bed empty. I yawned and sat up as Winston jumped onto the edge of my headboard in front of the window and walked along it like a balance beam.

The lawn mower hummed beyond the single pane of glass.Who was mowing the lawn? I pushed the curtains aside and squinted in the light. Rex pushed the mower along the fence’s perimeter with a tight grip. His tanned, rounded shoulders popped in his heather-gray tank top. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as I wrinkled mine. I hadn’t asked him to mow my weeded grass.

Winston’s tail brushed the side of my face, pulling my attention back to him. He sprang off the bed and went to the door, crying to be let out.

“You must be hungry,” I said, and he meowed a reply. I climbed out of bed and dressed in my day-old jeans and T-shirt and grabbed a cardigan before heading out. Containing a slew of new messages and emails I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with right now, my phone got stuffed in my back pocket, and I cursed the state of women’s jeans when half of it stuck out the top. The moment I opened the door, Winston zipped down the hall at the same time as a loud cackle cascaded against my walls. I froze. There was more laughter. Female. And definitely more than one.

Who was at my house?

Padding downstairs, I followed the sound of mingled conversation and laughter to my kitchen, where I found Blair holding court with what seemed like a hundred other women but was probably eleven. The back door was propped open, and a few of the women moved to the back patio, fruity drinks dangling from their fingers.

“Oh, Abigail!” Blair said as she poured another drink and handed it to a waiting woman. “You’re finally awake. All my bridesmaids have beendyingto meet the woman who came after me when I broke it off with Rex.”

“Bridesmaids?”

“All eleven of them! My bestest fwiends in the whole world,” she added, using high-pitched babytalk, which made me want to throw up a little.

I forced a smile. “All eleven of them…at my house.”

“We’ve catered a lunch,” Blair explained. “Maybe you should take notes if you want to host events in the future. You know, so you can learn how to properly treat your guests?”

“Ha,” I replied, which was all I could manage while three stick-thin women wearing matching “BRIDE TRIBE” T-shirts came tumbling through the back door.

“Oh, he is yummy,” the first woman said, flicking her glossy dark brown hair over her shoulder. She looked at Blair. “Not as delicious as Donny, of course.”

Blair shrugged, falsely demure. “You said it, Tammy.”

I moved to the pantry and took Winston’s food off the top shelf. There was no sign of the cat in here—too many people—so I grabbed his food and water bowls and carried them out to the living room. The clatter of his food against the metal bowl made his head appear from under the sofa, his eyes darting to the doorway.

“And those shoulders!” one of the bridesmaids was gushing. “Are you sure he isn’t single?”

“He’s dating Abigail, believe it or not,” Blair replied, her voice pitched to carry. “What he sees in her, I have no idea.”

Winston slinked closer, looking tense.

“I know,” I told him, putting an extra few bits of food into his bowl in consolation. “But they’ll be gone soon.”

He glared at me and turned to his breakfast.

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