Page 20 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
SJ gasps so loudly it’s almost a squeak. “KITTENS?!”
I stare. “Bri.”
She shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “Yousaidyou might take two.”
“MIGHT!” I repeat. “As in, a theoretical discussion over wine. Not a binding kitten acquisition contract. I haven’t even asked the landlord yet.” When Bri told us that Zucca couldn’t keep it in his metaphorical pants and managed to get Bella knocked up before Bri could get them both spayed, we all felt sorry for her. But I never really entertained the idea of adding two kittens to my chaos.
Behind me, Stella laughs. It’s a low, knowing sort of laugh with a glint in her eye that saysOh, you sweet summer tenant.
“It’ll be fine,” she replies breezily.
I squint at her. “Shouldn’t I check with Jasper?”
She waves a hand like I’ve just suggested I get permission to own a kettle. “Honestly, if he were that concerned, he should’ve made the effort to be here.”
Omar coughs into his coffee. “Are you saying you’re staging a kitten coup?”
“It’s not a coup,” Bri says primly. “It’s a gentle, purring act of kindness.”
“Tell that to the furniture,” I mutter, peering back into the carrier where the ginger one is now gnawing enthusiastically on the bars like it’s in training for a prison break.
SJ crouches beside it, eyes wide. “What are their names?”
Bri crouches too, peering in with the air of a benevolent animal smuggler. “The tabby’s a boy. The ginger’s a girl. I figured you and your mum should each name one.”
SJ turns to me, solemn. “Can I pick the boy?”
“Sure.” There is no way I can now say he can’t have these kittens and Bri very much knew this. She bloody owes me big time!
SJ beams when Bri opens the carrier carefully and lifts out the grey tabby—who immediately starts squirming like a furry eel—and gently hands him over. SJ cradles the kitten awkwardly but reverently, like it’s both sacred and possibly explosive.
“I’m naming him Thor,” he announces.
“Big name for a small cat,” Omar murmurs.
“He’ll grow into it,” SJ says, deadly serious. “He’s already mighty.”
Thor chirps and then tries to climb up SJ’s hoodie using only claws and ambition.
“And what about her?” Bri asks, lifting the ginger kitten from the carrier and handing her to me.
She’s so light it’s almost shocking—all fluff and curiosity, her whiskers twitching as she blinks up at me. Each of her paws ends in neat white spots, like she’s wearing tiny socks. Ridiculously pink toe beans peek out as she stretches against my hand.
I sigh, already gone.
“Twinklesocks,” I say.
Omar blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Twinklesocks,” I repeat, deadpan. “Don’t question it. It came to me.”
Bri looks like Christmas just came early. “Iloveit.”
Thor chirps again and headbutts SJ’s chin. Twinklesocks yawns in my arms like she’s politely pretending she didn’t just try to bite my thumb.
Bri folds her arms, looking smugger than someone who’s just won a national award for emotional manipulation. “Welcome to the cat lady club.”
I narrow my eyes. “What did you do with the other three?”
