Page 6 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
Ben grins, that familiar, lopsided one. “Bedroom. I’ll get her.”
He turns.
And that’s when it hits me.
The boxers. The flushed grin. The slow door. Of course they were.
“Oh god,” I mutter. “Ben.”
He stops on the first step, glancing back over his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, straightening up, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I didn’t think. I should’ve texted. I’ve just—fuck. I didn’t mean to barge in on—whatever—”
He waves a hand, still smiling, but softer now.
“Don’t be daft. You’re always welcome. Even mid-orgasm.”
That gets a laugh out of me. Croaky. Stupid. But real.
“Give us a sec. I’ll go grab her.”
He pads up the staircase, still entirely too casual in his boxers. The floor creaks faintly overhead, then a door opens. Muffled voices. Amelia’s, soft and surprised.
I lean back against the wall. The house smells of fabric softener and wood polish. There’s a jumper hung on the banister and a pair of trainers kicked off by the coat rack. Ordinary things. Warm things.
This is what a home should feel like.
The stairs creak again.
Amelia appears, cheeks flushed, hair slightly mussed, fully dressed in yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt that readsCat Ladies Rule the Worldin faded lettering.
She doesn’t say a word. Just walks straight up to me and wraps me in her arms.
She’s warm. Solid. Comfort in human form. No pressure, no questions—just the steady weight of someone who knows exactly how to hold a person together.
I fold into her. Breathe in that faint scent of lemon and let myself cry.
Behind her, Ben comes back down the stairs, now in jeans and a grey T-shirt. Smutty winds between his ankles and lets himself be scooped up like a prince accepting tribute. He curls against Ben’s chest, purring happily.
Ben glances at us and nods. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Chapter two
Rockin' Around the Bonfire
Miranda
The kitchen is quiet, cosy, familiar. A lamp glows in the corner. The mugs are already out, the kettle halfway through boiling. The kind of normality I haven’t felt in weeks.
I slide onto a stool at the island. Amelia sits across from me, Ben beside her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back.
“I’m so bloody tired,” I say quietly. “I didn’t realise how much until now.”
Amelia leans in. “What happened?”
I stare at the countertop for a moment.
“The divorce’s final. Signed today. I didn’t even look at him when I did it.”
