Page 36 of Hate the One You're With
“This isn’t for me,” I say, trying to keep calm—but what the fuck, dude?
“It is,” the butler replies, his voice as flat as his expression. “Since you now own Bentley, the letter must go to you.”
Of course, Gertrude had something to say about thefucking cat—or, if miracles still exist, it’s something giving me permission to kick him to the curb.
“Thank you?” I say, the uncertainty in my voice matching the bizarre situation.
I glance down at the envelope, feeling the weight of whatever message is inside. With a sigh, I slide my finger under the flap and begin to open it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dear Em,
From everything I’m leaving you, this is the one and only item that truly matters: Bentley. He’s more than just a cat—he’s my legacy, my dearest companion, and now, he’s your responsibility.
First things first, Bentley’s schedule is with Duncan, who has been trained to cater to his every whim. But here’s a quick rundown of what you’ll need to know:
Evenings are sacred. Bentley likes to watch The Golden Girls at eight PM sharp. Don’t even think about changing his routine. The DVDs are in the media room. Afterward, at nine PM, it’s Friends before bed—he has a particular fondness for Ross and his antics. He’s not a fan of Marcel and insists that Ross and Rachel were on a break. His favorite season is season nine, but mix and match episodes.
Weekends are special. On Saturdays and Sundays, Bentley enjoys a viewing of The Aristocats. He insists on it. And on Sundays, he absolutely must go to the park in his stroller. Yes, his stroller. He loves to people-watch, and it’s non-negotiable.
Duncan will show you where his feeding schedule is and everything about his routine. It’s in the kitten’s tablet.
Remember, Bentley enjoys a daily stretch session, followed by a light massage. His room is equipped with all his favorite toys and climbing structures. When you move, make sure it is to a place where he’ll have his own room. You’ll have plenty of money to make sure it happens—or move here with your handsome husband.
He’s not kid-friendly, but you’ll figure out how to deal with your own children and my Bentley. I believe in you.
Bentley is more than a handful, I know, but he’s worth every bit of effort. Treat him with the same care and attention I did, and he’ll reward you with his . . . well, let’s say his particular brand of affection.
Take care of him, Em. He’s not just a cat—he’s family.
With love,
Grandma Trudy
Chapter Twenty-Three
Satan: Why are most of the doors sealed?
She-Devil: What?
Satan: Most of the doors in the penthouse are sealed. We only have access to two rooms, Bentley’s and what Duncan called our bedroom. I can’t live under these conditions.
She-Devil: Are you in the right place?
Satan: Yep. Duncan the creepy butler welcomed me. I can’t believe he’s still working for you.
She-Devil: He’s workingfor my grandmother.
Satan: I could claim that’s impossible since she’s dead but by the way he looks, I wouldn’t doubt he serves her in the underworld too.
She-Devil: Are you taunting poor Duncan?
Satan: No, I was pretty cordial with him—until I saw that I’ll need a sleeping bag to make this living arrangement manageable.
She-Devil: You’re wrong, I was there and . . . Are you sure?
Satan: Pretty sure. Sending pictures of the sealed doors . . . Who did this?
