Page 109 of Say You Remember Me
Ian stopped in the middle of the huge living room with vaulted ceilings, his hands resting on his hips as he called out, “Here, Satan. Come here, kitty kitty. I have a friend who wants to meet you.”
And the sight of this confident, successful businessman—towering in his perfectly tailored clothes—calling for a kitten was almost too much.
“There you are,” Ian said suddenly, his gaze locking on the little black cat perched on a stuffed chair.
But Satan wasn’t about to make this easy. The moment the kitten spotted us, he darted off, disappearing under the couch in a blur of fur and whiskers.
Ian crouched down, lowering himself to the floor to peer under the furniture. “Sneaky little guy,” he murmured, then turned to Grant with a conspiratorial smile. “Do you think you’re up for a special secret mission?”
“Yes!” Grant’s eyes widened, sparkling with excitement.
“Okay.” Ian motioned for Grant to come closer. His tone dropped into something playful, almost like he was sharing a top-secret plan. “We’re going to need one of us on each side of the couch. If we work together, we can catch him before he gets away.”
Without hesitation, Grant scrambled into position, dropping to the floor and lying flat on his stomach. His small hands braced against the carpet as he peeked under the couch, his face serious and determined. Ian mirrored him on the opposite side, his long, muscular frame folding effortlessly to the floor.
“Ready?” Ian asked, glancing across at Grant.
“Ready,” Grant whispered, his tone matching the intensity of a soldier preparing for battle.
“All right,” Ian said, nodding toward the tiny shadow under the couch. “Let’s get him.”
In perfect synchrony, they both reached under the couch, their hands moving carefully but with purpose. Satan let out a tiny, indignant meow as the two worked together to gently corner him. And then, a second later, Grant sat up, triumphant, the kitten squirming lightly in his small arms.
“I got him!” Grant beamed, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He held the kitten close to his chest, his whole body practically glowing with pride.
“Good work!” Ian said, his expression one of genuine delight as he got to his knees and gave Grant a high five. “You saved the day.”
Grant giggled, his cheeks flushed with happiness as he nuzzled the tiny black ball of fur. “He’s so cute,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.
“He’s a busy little devil, that’s for sure.” Ian chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair before sitting back on the floor.
And seeing Ian like this—so natural, so completely at ease with my son—stirred something deep inside me. It was a side of him I hadn’t expected, and yet, it felt so perfectly him. He was thoughtful and playful in ways that seemed almost impossible for someone with his world of responsibilities.
And yet, there he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor like he had all the time in the world.
We watched as Grant and the kitten played, Grant’s laughter filling the room as he waved a little laser pointer across the floor. Satan pounced after the green dot with boundless kitten energy, his tiny body leaping and twisting in pursuit of his elusive prey. Ian sat beside me on the couch, his arm resting casually along the back, a soft smile curving his lips as he observed the scene.
It was such a simple moment, but it felt perfect. The kind of Sunday afternoon I craved—watching my son giggling and carefree, basking in the presence of a man whose quiet strength and warmth seemed to anchor everything.
I let myself get lost in it, the comfort, the joy, the aching possibility of more afternoons like this. Afternoons where laughter and contentment filled the air, and Ian was a steady presence at my side.
“Want to take a look at that house real quick?” Ian asked after the kitten flopped onto his side, clearly done for the moment.
“Yes,” I said, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face. “I’d love to.”
Ian stood, offering me a hand to help me up, and my heart did a little flip as our fingers brushed. Once Grant had given his new kitten friend a quick goodbye pat, we headed outside.
“It’s just this way.” Ian led us through his expansive backyard, past a beautiful pool to a gate tucked into the hedge. Beyond it, a stone walkway meandered through a patch of trees.
“This is so pretty,” I said, taking in the charming path. “Has this always been here?”
“My parents had it put in when I started building my house,” Ian said. “Figured it would come in handy for walking back and forth between our houses.” He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “One day, I think it’ll be the perfect little path for my kids to ride their scooters and bikes when they want to visit Grandma and Grandpa.”
I stopped walking, glancing up at him. “Hearing you talk about your future kids…it’s interesting.”
“Do you not see me as the future dad type?” He raised an eyebrow, his expression curious.
“No, it’s not that,” I said quickly, hoping I hadn’t accidentally offended him.
