by Rae, Kelsie
“Not yet.” I smirk.
“Well color me surprised. Oh, and the dog’s fine by the way. Thanks for asking.”
I asked about that?
“Uh…good? I’ll talk to you guys later. And thanks for this. Once I go puke my guts out and sober up, I’ll take your advice and,” I wave my hand through the air, “Ya know.”
“Get the girl?” Rhett offers.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. That.”
“Perfect,” Indie quips. “Bye, Tony!”
“See ya, Anthony,” Rhett adds.
“Bye.”
The phone clatters to the ground as it slips through my fingers, and I fall asleep on the cold, thin carpet.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sway
It’s Monday, and it’s almost noon. The combination makes for the worst Monday of all Mondays, and the slowest one that ever existed too. Why? Because a certain someone always arrived before nine o’clock on Mondays, and I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the clocks in my home as the seconds tick by at a snail’s pace.
I’m in a weird position where I’m exhausted, yet anxious as hell at the same time. To be honest, I didn’t know the combination was even possible, but as I wipe my sweaty palms on my skinny jeans, I find it to definitely be a thing, whether I like it or not.
Checking on all the cats in the basement, my nose scrunches in concern as I take a peek through Jasper’s window.
Did he just give me a dirty look?
I open the door to his own little room, and I’m greeted with a hiss that makes me retreat, closing the door as fast as I can so the butthead doesn’t attack me.
“What’s up with you?” I mutter under my breath as I glance through the window to confirm his food and water bowls are still full, and his litter box has been recently scooped.
When I find all of them to be in good shape, I purse my lips. Apparently, Saylor and Skye aren’t on his shit list. Just me. It’s like he knows I broke his buddy’s heart and is being a solid wingman by ghosting me.
Little bastard.
Giving him a glare, I move on to my other duties then check on Clover and the boys who have recently graduated from the exam room upstairs and are hanging out in their own little room next to Jasper’s. Opening the door, I’m greeted with a chorus of meows and slide between the crack before closing the exit behind me. I take a seat on the floor with my legs crossed when all three start rubbing up against me. A soft smile graces my lips as I close my eyes and soak up their presence. Don’t get me wrong, cats are great. But kittens? Even anti-cat people can’t hate kittens. They’re soft and snuggly and playful and purr-y and…. They’ve got it all.
When I hear a knock on the front door upstairs, my spine straightens, and my eyes pop open. Pulling out my phone, I check the time to see it’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon. The likelihood of it being who I want it to be is slim to none, but it doesn’t stop me from jumping up, carefully opening and closing the door behind me after I’ve confirmed that none of the kitties escaped, then taking the stairs two at a time. As my feet reach the first floor, another loud knock rumbles from the entryway.
With shaky hands, I straighten my navy blue henley before gulping and opening the door.
My senses are on full alert, my walls higher than ever as I scan the man in front of me up and down.
“Excuse me, Miss. If you could please sign here.” The delivery man offers a small handheld device with a pen-shaped piece of plastic, and I squiggle a few lines onto it. Once I give it back, he retrieves a package from his carrier while I watch the cloud from his breath swirl into the cold air.
“Here you go.”
Turning on his heel, I’m left with nothing but the icy breeze, a package the size of a big sandwich, and a hell of a lot of confusion.
So. Much. Confusion.
When Tobias rubs against my leg then meows, I’m shaken from my stupor and step back into the house before closing the door behind me.
Curious, I scurry into the small office and search in the drawers for a pair of scissors. After I find them, the blades make quick work of the packing tape. Hesitating for a split second, my lungs expand with a fresh gulp of oxygen before I open it to see what’s inside.
It’s my letter. My crumpled letter. The one I left on his pillow as tears streamed down my face after I abandoned him on the stupid ferry. However, it’s the second set of chicken scratch handwriting that makes me pause.
I can’t do this anymore.
-Tough shit.
What the hell?
Another loud knock echoes throughout the empty house, and I hustle to answer it.
Standing there, in the center of my front porch––with a bouquet of cat toys and kitten treats clasped in his arms––is Anthony.
I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear while my brain scrambles for something to say. Anything that will break the awkward silence.
“Sorry I’m late. I thought I was being all spontaneous and shit by picking up a bunch of cat stuff since I know you’d prefer something for them instead of yourself. And then I got the brilliant idea to have the delivery guy drop off the package before I showed up, ‘cause I’ve heard women like a grand entrance. But the guy took forever, so I was stuck waiting around the corner for him to get here even though the paperwork clearly stated it’d be delivered by ten in the morning when it’s clearly half past one.” He releases a deep breath before inhaling right after, as if the long-winded explanation was the equivalent to running a marathon.
“Can I come in?” he adds, a little more hesitant this time.
Clearing my throat, I take a step back and wave my hand to allow his entry because my stupid voice has yet to make an appearance.
Thankfully, the guy in front of me has a habit of reading my mind and catches my drift.
“Thanks,” he murmurs before stepping over the threshold and offering the bouquet of cat goodies. I close the door behind him then take the gift while trying to conceal the smile that threatens to spread across my face from his thoughtfulness.
“Thank you,” I whisper, though my eyes stay glued to the present instead of venturing up at him.
“Don’t mention it. Can we talk? Please? I know you have your issues, and I do too, but if I’ve been taught anything from my past, it’s that I’ve learned the importance of communication, and at the very least, I’d like to get some closure before we both move on with our lives.” My eyes water at the prospect. I look up at him, and a flash of panic crosses his face.
“I don’t want that,” he clarifies. “I don’t want to move on. I want you. Showing up here with a bunch of cat stuff was my attempt at proving to you that I’m jumping in with both feet. That I want to be with you. But I don’t blame you if, for whatever reason, you’re not wanting to pursue something more with me. I just want to understand. I want to stop being left in the dark. Can we just talk? Please?” he repeats his pleading from only a moment before, and I swallow past the tears that threaten to break.
My entire body tremors at the prospect of actually having this conversation when my dad’s voice echoes through my head. You owe him that much.
I give Anthony a mechanical nod then walk into the family room and take a seat on the aqua-colored couch. Tobias jumps onto my lap and curls into a tiny ball as if he can feel my anxiety and wants to soothe it. My fingers run through his short, curly fur, but it does little to relieve my nerves. Anthony hovers behind the couch, but he doesn’t take a seat. It’s probably better this way. I can pretend I’m talking to myself instead of facing the fact that I’m ruining the man I’ve fallen in love with by telling him my greatest flaw. Closing my eyes, I reach for the courage I’ve been stashing for this particular moment since the conversation I had with my dad and dive right in.
“I should probably start now, huh?” My voice is crackly and hoarse, but I push through it. “When I was in high school, I was diagnosed with a severe case of endometriosis. At first, they tried birth control to help with it,
then a few surgeries to remove the scar tissue that was building up, and a new type of medication that was supposed to help with the pain and balancing my hormones. Unfortunately, none of it worked. After an ovarian cyst burst, it required emergency surgery, and the doctor had to take out the entire ovary. Then, about a year after that, I experienced a sick case of déjà vu when the same thing happened to my other ovary. After a lot of thought and conversations with my doctors, we decided to move forward with a hysterectomy.” I sniff as a single tear slides down my cheek. “Which means I can’t have kids. Ever.”
A warm hand falls on my shoulder, gently squeezing it before Anthony rounds the corner of the couch. He sits down then pulls me into his chest without hesitation. I’ve cried about my condition more times than I can count, but the spells slowly subsided the less I focused on the what-if’s and what could’ve beens because I knew I couldn’t change it.
“You once asked me why I don’t plan for a future anymore, and the answer is simple. It’s because the future I always hoped I’d have was stripped from me before my nineteenth birthday.”
My body racks with sobs as Anthony holds me close, his strong arms offering as much comfort as he can, but it barely touches the pain encompassing me. This man. I breathe out a shaky breath before crying even harder. This man is perfect. So damn perfect that it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that he deserves the world. That he deserves that stupid white picket fence. That he deserves a wife––and a child he can come home to. A bitter laugh escapes me. Or a half-dozen like he’d mentioned when I walked in on his conversation with his mom. I squeeze his shirt in my fist as a fresh wave of anger courses through me. Damn the white fence. Damn his future wife. Damn everything! Why can’t I be her? Why can’t I give him what he wants? Why can’t I ever be enough? Why can’t I be a mom and know what it’s like to feel a baby kick in my womb? To feel my stomach roll with morning sickness? To feel the urge to push when it’s finally delivery day? Why do I have to miss so much?
And now? Now, I’m going to miss out on a life with Anthony all because my body didn’t work the way it was supposed to. A man who said he loved me. Who showed up at my door with a bouquet of cat toys because he knew it would make me smile. A man who stole my heart without even asking if I’d give it to him, yet he owns it just the same.
His hand rubs my back up and down in a soothing gesture as the tears continue to stream out of me until I feel like I’m a freaking dishrag who’s been wrung out one too many times.
Sniffing, I try to calm myself by breathing as slowly and deeply as I possibly can. The oxygen coming in and out in shaky waves as his palm continues to caress me in a rhythmic fashion.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, not having the strength to pull away from him even though I know I’ve made an absolute fool out of myself by sobbing all over him. I nuzzle closer and let the sound of his steady heartbeat ground me.
“Never apologize for that, Sway. Ever. I’m not in love with your missing uterus.”
A dry laugh bubbles out of me before his arms tighten around my torso, and he reiterates, “I’m not. I’m in love with you, Swayze Girl. Every piece of you. What you’ve been through? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but I’m grateful it’s made you into who you are today. I’ve never met someone so selfless and caring in my entire life. I know you think this is a deal breaker for me, and that you’re probably assuming I’ll regret building a life with you in the future, but it isn’t possible. I love you. And I’ll never stop, so will you please let me make a plan for the both of us? For once? And you can just go with it and be happy? Because that’s all I want in life. You. By my side.”
Trembling, I ask, “That’s it? Just me?”
“And the cats. Obviously.”
I snort into his soaked jacket before mumbling, “Obviously.”
We sit in silence for another minute when he whispers, “Have you ever considered adoption?”
Biting my lip, I finally gain the courage to glance up at him. “Of course I’ve considered it, but I’ve also learned how fragile plans are. Plus, single parent adoptions are pretty much non-existent. Especially for a crazy cat lady so….”
His chest rumbles with laughter before he drops a kiss to my forehead. “Well, plans might be fragile, but I’m also a stubborn sonofabitch. If you could go to school for planning, I’m pretty sure I’d have a doctorate. We’ll figure it out when the time comes. Promise.”
“When?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice as my eyes widen at the prospect.
“Or if,” he corrects himself. “Don’t want to scare you off with all my schemes. But maybe we can start with a label?”
“What kind of label?”
His arms tighten around me. “One that starts with a Re- and ends with a -lationship?”
My eyes gather with a fresh set of tears, but they’re happy ones this time as I push myself off his chest and place a gentle kiss against his mouth. “I think that sounds like a great start.”
“Good. And if you end up as Sway Wright, who am I to complain?”
With my mouth stretched into a giant grin, I shove away from his chest and get to my feet. “You’re pushing your luck. Now, go see Jasper and Clover. They’ve missed you like crazy.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sway
One Month Later
“How do you do this?” Anthony asks as we finish cleaning our dishes from breakfast.
“Do what?” It’s a stupid question. I already know what he’s inquiring, but it still slips out of me as I finish up the final adoption paperwork for the family who’s on their way to pick up one of the kittens now that they’re old enough.
“How do you get attached to all these animals and then give them up to other families? How can you trust a stranger to pick up a kitten or a cat that we’ve spent so much time taking care of? How do you not wind up keeping all of them?” His tone holds a hint of desperation, and it breaks my heart.
“My job isn’t to keep them. It’s to foster them. The only cat I officially own is Tobias.”
“And Jasper,” Anthony adds.
“Technically, he’s yours.”
“And technically, you’re mine too, which makes Jasper part of our family.” He emphasizes the word our, and I stick my tongue out at him in return.
I might pretend to be annoyed, but in reality, I love that he just gave me half the rights to his grumpy cat. Maybe one day I’ll get on Jasper’s good side, though I know I’ll never be able to replicate the relationship those two have. Still, my fingers are crossed to winning him over one day.
“Anyway…back to the subject. If I kept every cat that came through here, I’d have more than two hundred.” As his eyes widen, I nod. “See? Can you imagine how many kitty litter boxes that would be?” He shivers at the thought before I continue. “Don’t worry about the cats. The owners go through a relatively extensive background check, and we don’t give the animals away either, which helps weed out the people who aren’t ready to make the commitment. If they’re not willing to scrounge up some money, then they’re probably not willing to take care of it. And, if for some reason they can’t keep the pet, they know where to find us. We’re doing everything we can to find a good fit for cat and owner. It’ll be fine.”
“Just like how you found a good fit for me by taking me in? And finally claiming me for your own when I came here as a stray?”
With a light blush that kisses my cheeks, I grin. “Apparently.”
A knock on the door pulls us from finishing our conversation, and my stomach falls. I might put on a brave face, but Anthony’s got a good point. This never gets any easier. Plus, I know they want a kitten, and there are only three to choose from. One of which is Anthony’s baby. He hasn’t asked to keep her because he already knows my rules, but it doesn’t stop my heart from pinching any time I think about giving her away.
My palms are sweaty as I open the door and am greeted with the cutest family ever.
“Hi!” the mom says, her ha
nds resting on her swollen stomach. The sight still causes a pinch in my chest, but Anthony wraps his arms around my waist, soothing the ache like aloe to a burn. She has soft, brown hair, black-framed glasses, and the most friendly smile I’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” I return after a moment of hesitation. “Come on in. My name is Sway, and this is Anthony.”
“Nice to meet you.” We shake hands. “I’m Danielle. This is my husband, Chris. And Logan.” She motions to a boy who looks to be twelve or so. “Brittanie.” A little girl who’s maybe eight? “And Erin.” Danielle rubs her belly, making me smile, and I’m surprised when the sting that usually accompanies a pregnant woman isn’t quite as crippling.
“Nice to meet all of you. It looks like you have your hands full. Are you sure you’re ready for a kitten?”
“Yes. I had the funniest cat named Tom, but he ran away a few years ago, and we never found him. We definitely know what we’re getting into and will treat him––or her––like royalty. My kids have been begging for almost a year to get another cat, and we heard this was a great place to adopt.”
“It is,” Anthony interjects. “Were you looking for a boy or a girl?”
With a soft hand on his forearm, I stop him, surprising myself as much as him as I say, “Actually, the little girl is reserved, but we have two adorable little boys available, if you’re still interested.”
Opening his mouth to argue, I squeeze his arm and give him a pointed look that suggests he keep his mouth shut for a few minutes. By some miracle, he catches the hint and bites his tongue.
Danielle drops her gaze to her kids who’re busy giving her puppy dog eyes. “I’m gonna go ahead and say that won’t be an issue. A little boy sounds great,” she replies, smiling down at her children.
“Yes!” Brittanie, the eight-year-old, adds while bouncing up and down like an Energizer bunny.
