"Come here." I hold out my arms and she takes tentative steps before finally allowing herself to sink into my embrace. It feels so natural, so right.
"Smutty is my whole world. I can't let my landlady know that I have him, she’ll make me give him up. I can't lose him," she cries softly into my chest. Ah fuck, how can I say no to that?
"Fine."
"Fine?" She lifts her head and gives me a big grin. "Did you hear that, Smutty? You can stay with Ben!" The only response we get is some awful retching before the cat spits a tiny furball onto my kitchen floor. Amelia‘s cheeks turn pink and she rushes to grab a kitchen towel from the counter.
"He doesn't do that often. If he got it out now he'll be good for a few weeks," she mumbles apologetically as she mops up the vomit.
"Sure." I wipe my face with my hands. This is so not how I’d imagined this evening would go. "Do you want some dinner?" I ask her.
In the hope that's what she was coming over for I defrosted some pasta sauce.
"No, can't, sorry. I have to go home and make sure there’s nothing left to give Smutty away. Right, he gets dry food throughout the day and wet food in the evening. All the food is in the box. You should put the litter box somewhere he can easily get to and place him in it at least three times tonight even if he doesn't need to go, so he remembers where it is. There are tons of toys but mainly he just sleeps," she rattles off instructions whilst retreating towards the door. Smutty and I follow her, not ready for her to leave.
"Bye, Smutty." She picks up the furball, cuddles him and presses her lips to his head. He gives a little meow before she places him on the floor again.
"Thank you, Ben. I’ll text you all the instructions." She places her soft lips on my cheek and it takes everything for me not to pull her close for a proper kiss. She’s given me blue balls the whole week, ignoring my messages again after that evening we had and clearly there is no relief in sight.
She slides out of the door before I can reply, leaving me and the cat alone in the corridor. He sits on the floor next to me and stares at the closed door.
"Welcome to my house, I guess." I stuff my hands in my jeans’ pockets and grin at him. He just gives me a look of discontent before turning his nose up and walking away from me like I don't exist. Fuck my life.
Okay, I swear this furball hates me already and he’s only been in the house for an hour. I put the cat litter tray in the utility room. The first time it took ten minutes for me to catch him so I could show him where his fucking toilet is. But he’s not stupid; the second time he saw me coming and had me chase him through the house for twenty minutes before I finally cornered him. In return, he gave my hand a swipe and I now wear three red scratches as a badge of honour.
But we’re not done. He and I are eyeing each other again. It's like he knows that I need to put him into his litter box at least one more time. But before I can make a move, my phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you busy?" Coop asks.
"I'm locked in a battle at the moment. What do you need?"
"What battle?" he asks ignoring my question.
"Long story. Actually, do you have a clue about cats?"
"Cats?"
"Yes, how do you catch one?"
Coop chuckles before I hear him repeat my question to who I assume is his soon-to-be wife.
"Lizzie says use food." Fuck, of course! I head to the kitchen to try to find some treats.
"So, what do you need, Coop?" I say and peek into all the bags on the floor. Eventually I find tins of cat food in a box.
"The recruitment agency confirmed our meeting tomorrow to discuss the general manager role," he sounds determined.
I grab the box of dry food and shake it which seems to work like magic because I barely finished rattling it when the black furball shoots into the kitchen like a lightning bolt.
"Ah, gotcha'" I chuckle.
"Sorry?" Coop asks from the other end of the line.
"Not you. Yes, I'm up for a meeting with an agency. The important thing for me is that we keep control over the bigger picture decisions."
"Shit, Ben, me too. We worked too hard, but I need some more time to enjoy life. I need this," he sighs.
"I get it, Coop. And I agree."
"I won't ask where this change of heart is coming from," he replies.
"I didn't have a change of heart, I never said no," I argue, but we both know I'm full of shit. When he originally told me about the plan I wasn't ready to give it all up.
"Okay let's talk tomorrow. But, Ben, I’ll say it again, whatever this with you and Amelia is, make sure you know what you’re doing. Neither of you can cope with more heartache."
"I told you that’s not what this is about." If I fight it, it isn't true, right?
"Still. I'll see you tomorrow."
I put my phone on the kitchen counter. My eyes drop to Smutty, who is still sitting in front of me staring longingly at the food.
"Alright then, one more look at the toilet and you can have some food, Furball," I say and walk towards the laundry room. I put a few pieces of the dry food on the floor. Smutty looks at it and then back at me and back at the food. Only when I step aside and out of reach of the litter box, he finally strolls in and licks the food from the floor.
My phone pings to alert me to a message.
Amelia
