Page 101 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
SJ snorts faintly—a barely-there laugh—and kicks off his trainers just inside the door.
Twinklesocks hops out of his arms and immediately stalks into the kitchen like she owns the place.
“Figures,” I mutter.
SJ hovers near the doorway, rubbing his hands together. “Do you really have hot chocolate?”
I nod, heading for the cupboard. “The good kind. With the little marshmallows.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he sits at the table without needing to be asked. That, more than anything, tells me how rattled he was.
I flick the kettle on and pull out the spare key from the drawer beside the fridge.
“See?” I say, holding it up. “Landlord perks.”
This time, he actually smiles. Just a little. But it sticks.
As the kettle starts to rumble, I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Miranda:
Me
SJ’s locked himself out. He’s at mine with Twinklesocks.
We’re having a hot drink.
The reply comes a moment later.
Miranda
Thank you. Tell him I’m sorry.
I’ll be stuck in traffic for at least another hour. Total gridlock.
I glance over at SJ. He’s slumped at the table, watching Twinklesocks stalk the windowsill like she’s patrolling her kingdom. His fingers drum lightly on the wood.
I tuck the phone away and drop two mugs onto the counter.
He watches me measure out the cocoa powder, eyes narrowing a little.
“Why do you even have hot chocolate?” he asks. “You don’t look like a hot chocolate guy.”
I glance over. “What do I look like, then?”
He shrugs. “More of a… black coffee kind of guy.”
“Not wrong,” I mutter, grabbing the mini marshmallows. “But I’ll have you know I keep this in for Lucy.” He gives me a knowing nod. “She thinks I make the best hot chocolate in the world,” I say, tipping the marshmallows into his mug. “And then she told her dad, he’s only second-best, which didn’t go down well, given he literally owns a coffee shop.” I place a hot chocolate in front of SJ.
He lets out a small laugh and picks up his mug with both hands. Twinklesocks hops down from the windowsill and brushes against his leg as if checking she is still his favourite.
He takes a sip, then raises his eyebrows. “She’s right,” he says. “This is top-tier.”
I lean back in my chair and give him a satisfied nod. “Tell everyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
SJ takes another sip, then glances around the kitchen—the way kids do when they’re finally warming up again, curiosity returning in little flickers.
His gaze lands on the fridge. He leans sideways slightly, squinting.
“Is that meant to be a unicorn?”
