“He likes you.” Emma’s dimples appear as she beams at me, and to my shock, I realize the creature on my lap is purring.
Loudly.
His entire body is vibrating with it, his eyes shut in apparent bliss.
Okay, then. I guess I have not held a cat before, because this is definitely a memorable experience. I must’ve petted at least one cat before this—I vaguely recall a skittish Siamese at a friend’s house in college—but this is something else entirely.
This animal is trusting me.
According to Emma, he likes me.
Carefully, I intensify the pressure, stroking him more firmly, and the purr gets louder, the vibration increasing until I feel like I’m holding a miniature chainsaw. The cat is clearly enjoying what I’m doing, and I can’t deny that it feels good to run my palm over his soft fur. Between the purr and the warmth, the sensation is strangely soothing… almost hypnotic. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, strangely reluctant to let work intrude.
“Love.”
My head snaps up, my entire body locking up as I stare at Emma. “What did you just say?”
“You asked what more they need,” she says quietly, her gray eyes on my face as she continues stroking the two pets on her lap. “And I’m telling you that they need love. Attention. Caring. Same as people.”
Right. Of course.
She’s talking about the cats, not us.
“So I take it you’re not coming home with me,” I say with forced lightness, and she shakes her head.
“I want to, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Marcus. I can’t leave them alone two nights in a row, especially since I’m going to Florida on Wednesday. My landlady is going to look after them, but they’ll still be traumatized by my absence.” She pauses, then adds hesitantly, “Maybe you can stay here with me?”
“All right.” The words escape my mouth before I consciously make the decision. “In that case, I will.”
And as the cat on my lap purrs louder, I take my phone from my pocket and text Geoffrey that I won’t be home for breakfast.
42
Emma
All evening long, I’ve felt the urge to pinch myself to make sure I’m awake, because what are the odds that my billionaire hookup would accompany me to Brooklyn, help me with my laundry, and agree to spend the night in my tiny studio before having a pizza dinner at Papa Mario’s with me?
Next to none, I would’ve said before today.
Yet here we are, stuffed full of pizza, with me doing my best to make my old sheets look semi-decent—and cat hair free—by smoothing them with my palms while Marcus showers in my tiny bathroom before joining me in this very bed.
My phone dings with incoming texts, then starts ringing, and when I grab it, I’m not the least bit surprised to see that it’s Kendall.
“Well?” she bursts out the moment I pick up. “You never called back. What’s going on with you and Mr. Billions? Spill. Now.”
I glance at the bathroom door, but it’s closed and the water is still running.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” I say in a low voice. “Marcus will come out of the shower any minute, so just listen and don’t interrupt, okay?”
“Shower? Where? Holy fuck, Ems!”
“Kendall—”
“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up. Go on. Tell me everything.”
And so I do, starting with the books he sent me Friday night and concluding with our current situation. The only part I leave out is the conversation with my grandparents, because I don’t want Kendall to get the wrong idea.
To her, meeting family is such a big deal she’ll be convinced we’re about to get married.
“So let me get this straight.” My friend sounds like she’s on the verge of an aneurism anyway. “The two of you have spent the past twenty-four hours together—literally, the entire twenty-four-hours—and he wants to stay at your place overnight? Like he’s actually willing to sleep in your tiny coffin of a bed?”
“It’s a regular twin-sized—"
“Whatever. I’m sure his bedroom is fit for a modern-day prince.”
“Well…”
“Oh my God. I’m so fucking jealous of you right now, you sneaky little bitch. Tell me he at least has a small dick. It is small, right? Like all crooked and shriveled up and stuff?”
I fight a hysterical giggle. “No, sorry. He’s actually—” I stop, because there’s no way I’m going there, not even with Kendall.
“Oh, shut the fuck up! Next you’ll be telling me he’s already given you half a dozen orgasms.”
Well over a dozen, but who’s counting? I try to think of a suitably discreet answer, but my silence must speak for itself because Kendall lets out a groan and I hear banging sounds in the background.
“You okay?” I ask, concerned.
“Fine.” Her voice is weirdly muffled. “Just beating my head against the wall for not listening to Janie and signing up for the dating app with you. Maybe I, too, would now be planning summers in the Hamptons and Christmas vacations in the Alps.”