Page 73 of We Can Stay
“Smart kitty,” he chuckles. “How was your shift?” He turns away from the TV to fully look at me.
I hesitate as I pause the show. “It was…awkward. I feel like I’ve messed things up between Hannah and me, and the only way to fix it is by telling the truth. But telling the truth will also change things in a way I don’t want.”
“Did you ever plan on telling me about the pericarditis?”
I bite my lip. “I hadn’t told anyone, Sebastian. I was going to keep it to myself.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to take it personally. “I get it. I try to hide how much I work from my family. I just tell them I’m busy and leave it at that. I suppose it’s because I feel guilty, and if I explain exactly what I’m doing, they’ll try to talk me out of it.”
I guffaw. “And does that ever work?”
A slow grin slides across his face. “I’m here right now, aren’t I? I took a day off. My brother had at least some influence on me.”
“He seems like a good brother.” I push my plate away, stuffed to the max.
“He is. He was really happy to meet you. They all were. They keep—” He abruptly closes his mouth.
“What?”
“Oh. Nothing. Should we get back to the show?”
“No. What?” I gently poke him in the side. “What were you going to say?”
“They, uh…” He shrugs. “He says that I should lock it down with you.”
“Lock it down?” I sputter.
“Yeah.” He squints, and he sounds so awkward. “Like marriage.”
“Oh.”
“They’re silly. I know.” He clears his throat and restarts the show.
Marriage. The thought sends a flutter through my chest.
What if Sebastian and I did head down that road? It’s been years since I’ve entertained any thought that’s even remotely close to marriage. And Sebastian and I just started dating, but if we did…
Wow. I can’t even believe I’m thinking like this. It’s not me at all.
Then again, maybe it is. Maybe the Flick who only entertained flings and one-night stands was nothing but a facade crafted to hide the pain underneath it all, the pain caused from her boyfriend cheating on her back in New York.
It’s a startling realization—and one I don’t have time to think further on right now. Sebastian is pulling me against his chest, and as I snuggle into his arms and breathe deeply, I feel the most at peace that I have in a long time.
The show ends, and the countdown begins for the next episode, but I don’t feel like watching any more TV. I want to be pressed right up against Sebastian, just as we are now—except with fewer clothes.
“Let’s go to bed.” Standing, I take his hand and pull him through the living room and up the stairs.
It feels amazing to be clear of this last flare, to be able to walk and move—mostly—freely, and I want to take advantage of how good I’m feeling. Leading Sebastian into the bedroom, I kiss him long and hard.
He spins me around, his chest pressed to my back, hands roving around my waist and up my torso. I walk us forward, past the bathroom doorway, past the closet—and I stop.
“Cat?” I frown at my empty slippers.
“Huh?” Sebastian asks, voice husky against the back of my neck.
“She’s not in the closet.” Just to be sure, I push the door open farther and check each corner. No sign of her.
Getting on my hands and knees, I look under the bed. Still no kitten.
