Page 25 of We Can Stay
He unlocks the door with a key from his pocket, and I’m spared from thinking any more. The shed is larger than I expected. Shelves with veterinary supplies line the walls in neat rows, but in the middle of the room, two benches have been pushed together and covered with a flannel blanket and a few pillows. Flameless candles cast dancing shadows on the walls,and Chinese takeout cartons sit on a folding table. The smell of sesame oil and ginger makes my mouth water.
“What’s this?” I step into the one-room building, taking in every detail.
“Romance...hopefully.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking younger, almost vulnerable.
“It is romantic.” I bump my shoulder against his, warmth spreading through my chest. “Thank you. This is... No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”
“I went to Egg Drop, Stop, and Roll and got you all your favorite dishes. Sesame noodles. Seaweed salad. Miso soup.”
A familiar smell makes my stomach growl, and I follow it to a carton. Popping the top open, I find my favorite of favorites. “Pork fried rice?”
“Of course.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed. “Thank you, but...how did you know this is what I like?”
“I called Hannah. I have her number from when she and Michael brought their dog in for vaccines. It’s not really how we’re supposed to use patients’ numbers...” He looks sheepish, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “But I thought she wouldn’t mind.”
“This is sweet.” Unexpectedly, I feel like crying. The pressure builds behind my eyes, and I have to blink hard. I can’t remember the last time anyone did something this kind and personal for me.
“I’m glad you like it.” He opens a cooler tucked in the corner. “Sparkling water?”
“Yes. Please.”
We arrange the pillows and settle in on top of the benches, our knees touching. Sebastian puts on some ambient music from his phone—something soft with rain sounds. It’s an odd setup,but also somehow perfect. The shed smells like cedar and faintly of the medical supplies, but it’s cozy. Intimate.
“How is Cat?” He loads a plate with everything and passes it to me, his fingers brushing mine in the exchange.
“She’s a devil.”
“Yeah, right.” He chuckles, not buying it for a second.
“I’m not kidding. She’s destroying my home. She scratched up the bottom of my bathroom door. And this morning, she figured out how to open my dye cabinet. I found her playing with a skein of undyed merino. Do you know how much that costs?”
“Well, don’t worry. I mentioned her to a woman who came in today who’s always looking for barn cats. She might be interested in taking her.”
I pause, chopsticks halfway to my mouth. The noodles slip back onto the plate. Cat, a barn cat? The image of her tiny body in some drafty barn makes my chest tighten. “She’s too little. She can’t live in a barn.”
She’d be all by herself! Or, if there are other cats, they might not take to Cat. They might beat her up. I’ve seen enough nature documentaries to know how territorial animals can be.
“Now she is. But she’d be fine in a few months. Barn cats are tough.”
I frown, still not liking the sound of it. My mind conjures images of owls and foxes and all manner of predators. “I don’t know. She’s more of an inside cat.”
“Despite the fact that you found her outside?” His tone is teasing, but gentle.
Now he’s just making fun of me. But there’s affection in it, like he finds my concern endearing rather than ridiculous.
“Actually, because there are cars and coyotes outside,” I correct, setting down my chopsticks with more force than necessary. “Which could be why she was all alone in the first place. Her mom might have been killed.”
Something flickers across his face—understanding, maybe. “If you don’t want her to be a barn cat, then she won’t be a barn cat. I can hold out for the perfect home if you can.”
“Of course,” I say without hesitation. The words come out fiercer than I intended. I can’t take care of the kitten forever, but that doesn’t mean I’ll toss her to the first person who wants her. Cat deserves better than that. Everyone deserves to be chosen, not just convenient.
“How is your Twitch channel going?” He takes a long drink of his sparkling water, Adam’s apple bobbing. Somehow, even that part of his body is sexy. The candlelight casts shadows that highlight the column of his throat.
“Uh—g-good.” I clear my throat, collecting myself. Focus, Flick. “I haven’t been able to put as much time as I want to into it, but it’s new. I’m still gaining an audience. I should be grateful that anyone is watching it at all.”
“I’ve been watching. I think it’s great.”
