Page 139 of Love ad Lib
Henry?
She opened her eyes to a hot purring wall of fur.
‘Good morning, Mr Pussy,’ she mumbled.
Lying next to her and still asleep, Henry rolled over.
‘Shh,’ she whispered to the cat. ‘I’m going to make him breakfast.’
Mr Pussy lay down in the warm spot she’d just vacated, stretched and closed his eyes.
Libby grinned at the two new men in her life. She couldn’t believe her luck. Life was perfect. She tiptoed out of the bedroom and almost straight into another monster cat poo. This one was runny and leaking through the fibres of the formerly pristine sisal rug.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ she muttered, dashing to the kitchen for cleaning supplies.
Ten minutes later the rug was rolled up and condemned to be thrown out. No matter how much she scrubbed, it was trashed. She’d find a replacement later, and hopefully Jack would never know. She put the kettle on and went to the fridge to see what she could make for breakfast.
Two seconds later a yell came from the bedroom. She ran down the corridor to find Henry in a three-way fight with the duvet and Mr Pussy. The cat had its claws in both the duvet and him and was hissing and snarling like a tiger.
She ran forward and pulled the cat off him. It ran out of the room.
‘Henry!’
He was wide-eyed, his chest covered in deep scratches. He looked as if he’d woken from a nightmare, only to find reality was far worse.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he finally said, sitting down on the bed with a thump.
She pulled tissues from a box by the bed and dabbed at his wounds.
He shook his head. ‘I thought I was waking up next to you.’
Libby giggled. ‘But that was not the pussy you were looking for?’
‘Good god, no.’ He smiled and stroked the side of her face. ‘You’re beyond amazing, Libby. Last night was out of this world.’
Her cheeks heated under his touch.
‘I was trying to make you breakfast. But I’m afraid I had to deal with another little present from Mr Pussy.’
He dropped his hand. ‘Where is it? I’ll clean it up.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s sorted, but I’m going to have to buy a new rug for the hall.’
‘No, Libby, I’ll replace it.’
‘But he’s my responsibility.’
His mouth opened, then shut again.
‘Okay?’
He nodded. ‘But I wouldn’t tell Jack if I were you.’
Shitsticks.She couldn’t lose this job.
‘I won’t tell him. But only if we can find an exact match for the rug. If we can’t, then I’ll have to fess up.’
‘We can go looking today if you have any time?’
