woke up still as pissed off as I’d been the night before.
The email I’d pounded out hadn’t helped.
Saoirse soothing me—soothing me—hadn’t touched it.
Going for a ride hadn’t been the release it normally was.
Spending a quiet night with my wife in a cozy restaurant had been nice as hell, but I’d still been left with a roiling anger beneath my skin.
I couldn’t massacre all the people who’d put tears in her eyes. Neither Clara nor Saoirse would allow me to destroy my company as vengeance, which was extremely irritating.
So, I found myself sitting on the side of Saoirse’s bed while she slept, only making minor attempts to wake her up.
Stroking her cheek.
Sliding my fingers through her hair.
Trailing my knuckle along her arm.
Pulling the sheets back to look at her in her silky nightgown.
I thought I was getting away with it until her lips curled into a smile. “What are you doing, crazy man?” she croaked out, her eyes still firmly closed.
“How do you know it’s me?”
She rolled to her side, nuzzling her face on my thigh. “Only you would sneak into my room to poke and prod me.”
“I also spent some time looking at your tits.”
Her laugh was muffled by my leg. “You might be pervy, but at least you’re honest.” She rolled to her back, her eyes fluttering open. “Good morning, you.”
“Morning, pretty girl.”
“Why are you in my bedroom, sir?”
“I’m waking you up, wife. We have places to be.”
She glanced at the time and turned back to me with a furrow between her light brows. “The places better have coffee and donuts, or I’m not getting out of bed.”
“I can make that happen.” I peeled her sheet the rest of the way off her, which was a mistake. Her nightgown had ridden up to the tops of her thighs, revealing her bare little pussy. “Fuck. No underwear? Really?”
She tugged the scrap of material down and sat up, draping her legs over mine. “You sneak into my bedroom, you’re bound to see more than you expected.” Then she made sure to rub her calf against my dick, which was now standing at full attention. “Now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions.”
“I came in here with the intent to cheer you up,” I gruffed.
“You have. Look at me smiling.” She pressed her calf against me again. “I’m just returning the favor by cheering your dick up.”
I caught her leg and tossed it off me. It was a necessity. Otherwise, I’d have her flat on the mattress, spreading her legs instead. For a moment, I couldn’t remember why that was a bad idea.
But then I remembered.
Boundaries.
Temporary.
Convenience.
If I crossed the line now, when my emotions were already heightened, who knew how many others I’d cross?
I stood from Saoirse’s bed, adjusting the bulge behind my zipper.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Saoirse was miffed we took my car instead of the motorcycle, but when I pulled up in front of the animal shelter after taking her out for breakfast, she squealed with delight.
Her fingers dug into my bicep. “Are we getting a cat?”
I pried her hand off me and nipped at her fingertips. “If you find one you like, then yes, we’re getting a cat.”
We had the place to ourselves, thanks to a generous donation from Rossi Motors. Saoirse was soon buried in cats, and I questioned my choice of bringing her here.
Did I want to live with five cats if she couldn’t part from any of them?
Hell no.
Would I be able to say no?
Absolutely not.
Luckily, Saoirse had more sense than me. She homed in on the one cat who decided I made for a good climbing post and clawed its way up my leg until I had no choice but to hold it in my arms.
Orange. Scruffy. Missing half an ear. The thing was a mess.
Saoirse gasped. “Oh my god. He’s so cute.” She scratched beneath its chin, and the thing’s tail swished, hitting me in the face. “You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you? You are. And you like Luca, don’t you? I do too. You have good taste, buddy.”
I had to clear the thickness from my throat. How did hearing her tell a fucking cat that she liked me make me feel like my collar was three sizes too small?
“How do you know it’s a boy?” I asked.
“Orange cats are almost always male,” she said.
“You know a lot about cats?”
She stroked the orange fur, a smile curling her lips. “I’ve wanted one forever. I used to check out books from the library about taking care of them when I was little. Back then, I still thought my mother’s mind could be changed. My dad tried to convince me the barn cats on the ranch were my pets, but they barely wanted anything to do with humans. They definitely wouldn’t have let me put them in a dress.”
I turned to the side, taking the cat out of her reach. “He’s not wearing a dress.”
The woman who ran the shelter came toward us. “I see you’ve met Clementine. Isn’t she sweet?”
“She? I thought orange cats were always boys,” Saoirse said.
“Eighty percent of the time, they are,” the woman replied. “Clem is an exception to the rule. She really does have a lovely temperament, but no one’s taken her home yet due to her slightly rough appearance.”
I cleared my throat again, this time in indignation. Whoever hadn’t chosen this cat was clearly an idiot. “There isn’t anything wrong with her.”
Saoirse cuddled in next to us, kissing the top of Clem’s head. “She’s a princess and obviously has great taste.”
The women agreed, shooting me a wink, and said she’d give us time to play with Clementine. The three of us ended up sitting on the floor of a private room, getting to know each other.
Clem was just as affectionate with Saoirse, which was important. This was her cat, after all.
In the back of my mind, I knew I was digging myself into a hole it would fucking suck to climb out of. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind I was going to fall in love with this creature and break my own heart when I had to say goodbye to her at the end of my and Saoirse’s arrangement. At the same time, I couldn’t say no to this.
Not when I pictured Saoirse as a little girl with stacks of cat books, promising to take care of the cat all by herself and being shot down time and time again.
She was getting her damn cat.
Fuck my heart. It would recover.
The smile on Saoirse’s face made whatever I had in store worth it.
I knew that because when I looked at her and our previously unwanted cat, I was calm. My urge to destroy and maim had quieted. The future might be painful. I might regret these decisions down the line. But for now, everything was right.
My parents came for lunch on Sunday. Saoirse and my mother cooked together. Clementine sat in my father’s lap while we watched the game in the den.
He looked good. Miles better than he had a few months ago. But I’d never forget he wasn’t invincible. My big, strong, capable father had nearly been brought down by his own body.
The four of us sat down to eat together while Clem checked out her new climbing tower.
My mother shook her head. “A cat. I never pictured you having a cat, Luc.”
Dad wiped his pants off. “You’ll have to invest in lint rollers by the case.”
Saoirse lit up as she told them how Clementine had chosen me. “She climbed him like a tree. And when the woman in charge of the shelter implied there was something wrong with Clem, you should have seen Luca. It was like she was talking about his child.”
My dad grunted. “I’d hardly call a missing ear something wrong. Who are these people who said that?”
My mother laughed. “Do you see where he gets it from?”
Saoirse’s cheeks were rosy when she grinned at me. “I do. Who knew Luca had such a mushy heart?”
“I did,” Mom declared. “You can’t be a beautiful artist without feeling things deeply. When he was a little boy, he once came to me with tears in his eyes. When I asked him why he was upset, he said he wasn’t sad. He told me he’d been thinking about me, Clara, and Dad, and his heart got so big it felt like his chest was going to burst. As he got older, he disguised that side of him behind his cool-guy front, but I know what lies beneath.”
“I do too. Aren’t we lucky?”
Saoirse squeezed my leg under the table, keeping her focus on my mom. Thank Christ, because I remembered the incident she was talking about. My mother undersold the dramatics of eight-year-old Luca. I’d been sobbing, almost hysterical, over how much I loved my family.
Weird kid.
At least I hid it better now.
Dad wiped his mouth. “Are you finding time for that these days?”
“That?” I leaned back in my chair. “You mean my art?”
“Mmm. From what Clara says, you’re at Rossi later than her most days.”
“You’re checking up on me?” It came out harsher than intended, but this was a sore line of questioning. While my mother had cultivated my little artist heart, my father had never quite understood me. He was all facts and numbers. It made him a great CEO, but I didn’t work the same way and never would.
His brow winged. “I had a conversation with my daughter, Luca. You came up in conversation. I’m not spying on you. I’m interested in both you and my company.”
“My company,” I corrected.
“Not because you want it.”
My arms folded over my chest. “Does it matter why it’s mine? The fact is it is. And since you’re checking up on me, I presume you’re watching our stock prices.”
“Of course I am. I have a vested interest in Rossi. That’s my retirement. My legacy.”
“Mine too,” I replied.
“There’s no need for you to get your back up, Luca. I’m not telling you how to run things. I’m not going to wedge my way back in. Rossi is yours. I should be able to ask questions without it being viewed as an attack on you.” Dad folded his arms too, mirroring my pose.
“Then ask me.”
He cocked his head. “I would. If our conversations didn’t devolve into you feeling like I don’t trust your decision-making abilities.”
I huffed. “Do you?”
“I do, or I wouldn’t have put my full support behind you.” He gestured to Saoirse. “I trusted you implicitly, even when you were in the throes of rebelling. I always knew you would rise to the role when it was time. And look at you, taking the reins of Rossi without faltering even though it came a lot sooner than either of us expected. You married a beautiful woman, and you’re making a home with her. I knew you had this in you, Luca.”
“I’ll never be you.”
Mom spoke up. “No one wants you to be your father. He certainly doesn’t.”
Dad nodded sharply. “I have Clara as my clone. I don’t need two.”
My mother reached across the table, palm up. Slowly, Dad unfolded his arms to meet her in the middle, enfolding her hand in his.
“Rossi needed a breath of fresh air,” Mom said. “And your father needed a reason to step down. He won’t admit either, but he knows I’m right.”
Dad grunted again, his mouth pulling into a frown, but the way he looked at her was soft as always, and he held her hand tight, not denying her opinion.
Bless that fucking cat. Clementine chose that moment to walk right up to a small succulent in a clay pot sitting on the edge of a shelf and bat it with her paw. It plummeted to the floor while she watched, shattering into a million pieces. Then she sat on her princess ass and started grooming herself as if she hadn’t just committed mayhem for no good reason.
After my parents left, Saoirse and I ended up in the den, with Clem passed out on the couch between us.
“I think you needed to have that conversation with your dad,” she said.
I grunted, which made her laugh. My eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You sounded exactly like him.”
“I’m nothing like him.”
“Okay.” She absently stroked Clementine’s back. “Your parents are really in love. It’s nice to see. I think my parents were like that when I was young, but life…”
“I once heard my mother tell Clara the key to her long and happy marriage is choosing each other. The choice didn’t happen only once at the altar. They have continued to choose each other throughout their lives together.”
Saoirse nodded slowly. “My parents chose each other once, then let the chips fall where they may after.” She slung her foot over mine, where it rested on the ottoman. “When you get married for real, you’ll have to remember that. Choose her and keep choosing her.”
My mother had been right. I’d gotten a lot better at dealing with my emotions over the years. They didn’t burst out of me anymore. They were there, contained but just as powerful.
And what my wife just said to me? I felt that deep.
