Page 29 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
When we reached the destination he had in mind, my feet hit the floorboard and a laugh ripped from my throat. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘You have cat to be kitten me?’”
“You’re not cute, Jamie Shaw,” I retorted, shoving my sunglasses on top of my head to get a better look.
The Cat Café.
“Am too. And what? I thought we could honor Rory’s memory. Plus, if you fall asleep on our first date, I’ll never live that down.”
I rolled my eyes as he circled to find parking. “This is not a date.”
“It’s a boy and a girl out doing fun things together.”
“As friends.”
“Or…” Jamie teased, finding a spot. He whipped the Jeep in with a crooked smile on his face.
“I have a boyfriend.”
He was unbuckling his seatbelt, but paused a moment, his eyes on where his hand still held the buckle. He sniffed, cracked his neck, and then let it go. “Come on. Let’s get you caffeinated.”
I let him avoid the statement, mostly because I was dying for coffee. You would think working in a coffee shop would make me not want it as much, but it was quite the opposite, actually. I started every morning with a cup of Joe and I was far from opposed to an afternoon pick-me-up at the moment.
Jamie seemed in his thoughts as we walked the street up to the café, his hands tucked in his pockets and eyes on the cobblestone below our feet, but when we opened the door to the café, he perked up again.
It looked a little strange to me. We sort of walked straight into a decision in the form of two, rather unimpressive hallways. Jamie led me down the one straight ahead where a counter that looked similar to a concession stand at a high school sat. We placed our orders as I took in the paw prints on the wall and the snacks for purchase. In the end, Jamie opted for black coffee while I chose the Americano, and hot drinks in hand, we made our way back to the other hallway. When we emerged into an open room with seating along the walls, I nearly dropped the cup in my hand.
“Holy shit!” I said, louder than I intended, definitely loud enough for the couple sitting at the first table to hear me. “There are actual fucking cats in here!”
Jamie barked out a laugh, pausing at the entrance with me so we could both look around. The inside of the café was quaint, sort of rustic, with wood browns warming the walls and floors of the room. But there were pops of color — a red door near the back, bright orange pillows plopped on the floor here and there, and brightly colored cat havens and toys littered the entire area.
And there were cats everywhere.
“When it said Cat Café, I didn’t know I was supposed to take it so literally,” I mused, eyes still wandering the space as a black and gray striped tabby wove itself between my ankles. She arched her back as she rubbed against my bare leg, then sauntered off, plopping down on one of the empty pillows and looking back at me as if to ask, “What are you waiting for?”
“Careful. I think that one is plotting how to get you alone and in a bathtub.” Jamie cracked a smile at his own joke and I glared at him before pushing forward to claim one of the last tables available. Some customers were sitting down on the floor with the cats, playing with different toys or posing for pictures, while others sat at small tables like the one Jamie and I had selected.
“How do you even remember that story, anyway?” I asked, sipping my Americano to the symphony of soft mews and human chatter around us.
“How could I not? You fell butt ass naked into a pile of cat shit.”
“You’re the worst.”
Jamie laughed. “Oh come on, you can’t hate cats forever.” He set his coffee down carefully and picked up a tiny black cat that had wandered over to our table. “Look. This one is so sweet.”
He cradled the little guy in one arm like a football, scratching behind his ear before rubbing his belly and repeating the process. And as if Jamie Shaw wasn’t already hot, melted sex on a stick, he was holding a little kitten inside a coffee shop with a five o’clock shadow teasing his jaw.
Lord help me.
We drank our coffee slowly, filling each other in on the last year and a half. I loved hearing about Jamie’s family and he entertained my stories of Jenna and me during senior year. He was impressed she’d gone off to NYU, and I tried not to feel that familiar pang of jealousy when he asked a dozen questions about her.
