Page 33 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
“You’ve got to admit, it’s a pretty elegant move. Single mum. Cat chaos. Accidental pectoral fondling.”
“I’m going to drown you in this pool.”
“You won’t. Because even all your money won’t save you from prison.”
I push off the wall and swim away.
His laughter follows me all the way to the shallow end.
We swim hard for another half hour—enough to burn off any lingering smugness on Callum’s part. By the time we haul ourselves out, my arms are protesting and my brain’s finally quiet.
Neither of us mentions Miranda again.
The showers are quick, functional. As we’re lacing up trainers, Callum glances over. “You watching the Chelsea–Arsenal game on Saturday?”
“Was planning to. At home.”
He grins. “Don’t. I got offered a box.”
I look up. “Since when doyouget a VIP box?”
“One of the suppliers. Sweeteners. Thought I’d bring some of the lads from the village team. You in?”
I nod. “Yeah. Sounds decent.”
“You can even wear that tragic old Chelsea shirt you pretend isn’t cursed.”
“Only if you promise not to shout tactical advice to the gaffer.”
“No promises.”
Just as we’re heading out to the car park, Callum’s phone rings.
He checks the screen and answers with a big grin. “What can I do for you, my love?”
We keep walking.
A pause.
“Okay.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
We reach the row of parked cars, steam still rising off us in the cold. He unlocks his with a beep.
“Sure. Yes. Great. Love you.”
He hangs up and shoots me a smirk.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that look for?”
“Looks like I’ll get to judge for myself what this Miranda’s really like.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
He pops his boot open to place his bag in it. “Stella remembered Miranda’s looking for work. I’ve got a project coming up, and I need Stella fully focused—so we figured we could use the extra admin help.”
