I had no expectations for sex to come along with the work. It just…happened.
Not that the truth matters. It all comes down to how things look.
I should know that by now.
“This—us—whatever’s happening between us, I know it can hurt you and UPS,” Cat continues. “I don’t want that, and Ireallywant to keep this job. I like how it feels, knowing that I’m really good at something for once.”
“So what are you saying?” I feel dizzy, like the whole office is spinning around the two of us.
Finally, Cat looks me in the eyes. “I think we need to let things cool off between us.”
There it is.
I let myself care about someone. Like always, it ends with pain.
“If that’s what you want,” I say. The words sound echoey and distant, like someone else spoke them.
Cat nods. “I think it’s what’s best.”
She stands and opens the door, saying something about a conference call later today. My mind fails to latch on to any of the words. She might as well be speaking in a foreign language.
I don’t give a fuck about a conference call. All I want is for her to act like my kitten, the big-hearted, busy-brained, gorgeous woman who needs me to take care of her.
But she’s gone.
27
CAT
“Careful, the glass is going to overflow!” I gasp.
Pippa ignores me, topping off my wine glass until it’s practically at the rim. “We’re killing this bottle, kitty Cat. And if I don’t pour you a full glass, you’re gonna make me finish it myself.”
“What a tragedy,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Pippa and I aren’t the only girlfriends catching up in the Copper Cup tonight. There are only a few empty tables in the café section, which is lit with small candles and twinkle lights. In the corner, a woman in a peasant blouse strums on her acoustic guitar.
Since the Copper Cup doesn’t have a liquor license, Wine Wednesdays require bringing your own bottle. They turn a profit selling pastries and books instead. Customers tend to fill up their to-be-read piles even more after a few bottles of wine—something Pippa and I have proven many times over.
Our server, a pretty brunette wearing black-rimmed glasses, walks over from the counter a few feet away.
“Two slices of apple crumble pie,” she says, setting our plates down in front of us.
“Thanks, Brinley,” Pippa says. “And oh my god, that book you recommended was so good! I’m getting the rest of the series tonight.”
“I’ll put them back behind the register for you! Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Brinley waves and moves on to another table.
“I didn’t realize you knew her,” I say.
“Oh, I thought I mentioned! She’s Luke’s sister, actually. We’ve met at parties a few times, but I just figured out that she owned this place. Cool, huh?”
A combinationof jealousy and guilt twists in my gut. Maybe it’s weird, but I’m used to having Pippa all to myself—it makes me wonder whether one day, she might decide I’m too much trouble and replace me. Rationally, I know that’s stupid. Pippa’s been by me through thick and thin, and she’s never done anything to make me doubt myself.
Still, I resolve to make extra time for her from now on. “I’m sorry I didn’t spend Thanksgiving with you, Pips.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You spent it with my evil stepbrother, which is more than enough punishment.”