Page 62 of The Marriage Policy

“IfI move out,” I correct. “Even when we get divorced, maybe we’ll just live together forever. If you get a new man, he’ll have to deal with it.”

Donovan’s face twists up in an unfamiliar way.

“You don’t want to live with me?”

“What? No. I would be happy living with you forever. I don’t know why I made that face. Maybe because, oh yeah, I’m never getting in a relationship again.”

I let out a breath that he wasn’t upset about our living situation. “Anyway, if I do move out, we’ll coparent. They can be at Daddy Eric’s house sometime, and at Daddy Donovan’s other times.”

Donovan sighs, and I know I’ve got him.

“It’ll be fun. I promise. It’ll be our baby.” The thing is, I know Donovan and know he would love to have a pet and will adore the damn thing. Sometimes it just takes some prodding.

“Fine. Let’s go look at cats.”

“Fuck yes!” I cheer. “My husband is the best,” I tell an older lady as she walks by.

“That’s sweet, dear.” She grins.

And the thing is, I’m not even exaggerating.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Donovan

Iactually dowant a cat with Eric, but I’m so worried that all my wires are getting crossed. How do you sort through going from your best friend being straight to being your husband, then him being queer and the two of you having sex and sleeping in the same bed, andpoof, magically know what it all means? Real life is never as simple as that. Like earlier when we were at the farmers’ market, I mentioned our divorce to remind myself it’s still the plan, even though we act like a married couple in love. And then he starts talking about maybe not wanting to move out, and how our cat will be our baby, but then doesn’t deny we won’t be married forever.

I can ask him. I know I can. This isn’t one of those things where I’m afraid to communicate with my best friend, but I don’t want to put pressure on him. Or myself, to be honest. I’m still so confused about what’s going on. So many of the things he’s saying or doing can be seen as Eric being Eric. If he had actual feelings for me, he would tell me, just like when he realized he was bi.

But if I’m all mixed up about what’s going on, he must be too. So I try not to obsess about it and go with the flow.

We run home and put the food way, then stop by a pet store to get everything a cat might need. Who knows if we’ll be able to take one home today, but apparently, this is a thing we’re doing, so we should be prepared.

It’s three by the time we make it to the shelter.

“Have you filled out any of the paperwork online?” the receptionist asks.

I open my mouth to say no, but Eric beats me to it. “Yep! All that is taken care of.” Eric glances at me shyly and shrugs. “I’m home a lot.” Which I know is a sore spot for him.

Since he did it at the farmers’ market and it was okay, I interlace my fingers with his, earning a grin.

She looks us up in the computer and everything checks out, so she takes us over to look at the cats. “Do you prefer a cat or a kitten?”

Eric turns to me. “Do you have a preference? I don’t. I was originally thinking kitten, but I also feel like they might be more popular. Maybe we should give an older cat a chance.”

Yep, there it goes. My heart melts. How is this man so fucking perfect? I’m so screwed. “I like that.”

We head over, and there are a whole lot of cats available.

“I hate that there are so many,” Eric says.

“Yeah, I was just thinking something similar.”

Each cage has a name on it, the history of the cat, and their age or estimated age. We walk up and down the row numerous times, looking at them. Eric keeps lingering in front of a long-haired calico. It says she’s about two years old. She was a stray. She’s only been here a week, and it says she’s sweet, cuddly, and eager for her person…or people, I guess.

“Should we see if we can hold her?” I ask Eric.

“Definitely.”

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