Page 137 of Love ad Lib
‘But the cost? I should give you some money—’
‘No, absolutely not.’
‘But Henry—’
MIAOW.
‘Look, let’s discuss this later,’ he said. ‘Let’s get Mr Pussy— Ow! What the fuck!’
The cat had clearly decided their conversation should come to an end and ensured this happened by using Henry’s leg as a scratching post.
‘Oh my god!’ Libby pulled the cat’s claws from his trousers. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yep, all good.’ He grimaced. Was he going to have to get some kind of shot after today? Rabies?’
He quickly opened the food cartons and Libby held them under Mr Pussy’s nose one at a time.
It would appear the cat had expensive tastes, preferring the sashimi and rarest cuts of beef. It also turned out that he would only eat if Libby hand fed him. Fucking hell, this was a nightmare. Cats were meant to be easy. He should have got a bloody horse instead.
‘Cats are carnivores, right?’ she asked. ‘So surely we should just be feeding him raw meat?’
He bit back a sigh. ‘I’ll nip back out and get some minced steak.’
‘We don’t need to get any now. I think there’s more than enough here to satisfy him for the night. I can pick some up in the morning.’
Henry opened cupboards until he found plates. ‘Are you hungry? All the blood loss has made me starving.’
She giggled. ‘Yes, I am. And it smells divine.’
After the cat had eaten enough to feed a ravenous teenager, it staggered to the cat tree to sleep. Henry and Libby piled their plates with food and sat at the breakfast bar, facing him in case of an unexpected attack.
Despite his injuries, Henry was happy. Libby may not have wanted to move in with him but he’d secured her accommodation and pay. The fact that he’d had to lie to achieve this sat uncomfortably with him, but he justified it with the knowledge that his solution was better than a sofa in a house with a new-born.
After spending so much money on Summer over the years, he wasn’t rich, but now the obligation to his sister was over, he had enough to help Libby. And he wanted to. She was never going to make enough money doing improv compared to what he made as a broker.
And why should she have to struggle to do what she loved? Helping her out made him happy. She didn’t need to know that the money for the flat-sitting was coming from him, and he wanted nothing in return. He smiled to himself. He was back in London where, cats withstanding, everything was under his control.
‘Henry?’
‘Yes?’
‘I checked my bank account this morning. You paid me the rest of the money.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Why?’
‘Um, because I said I would?’
‘But I told you I couldn’t accept it.’
He put his cutlery down. ‘And I said I’d give you all the money in my bank account if you’d let me. I asked you to come with me, Libby. I told you how much I was going to pay you, and you agreed. I would be a callous bastard if I went back on that.’
She twisted her hands together. ‘But Henry, things changed.’
‘That doesn’t matter to me.’
‘It matters to me.’
