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Guess I’m not the only one who’s had one hell of a day.
“Sorry for interrupting.” His gaze travels down my pajamas and he winces. “I know I shouldn’t barge in with no warning. If I had a choice, I would’ve—”
I reach for his sleeve, pulling him inside.
God.
This whole thing would be so much easier if I could hate him like I did on day one. But he’s made that pretty much impossible, cutting me open with those big blue eyes swirling with regret.
“Come in and tell me what’s up.” I let him step inside fully, trying to imagine what a stranger sees when they first walk into this place.
First, there are the plants.
Potted plants everywhere. Nana sends them over regularly because she’s got a green thumb big enough for a dozen people.
Flowers, little vines, even a Venus flytrap on the windowsill. All nice, nontoxic things that don’t need a ton of light or much care.
It’s how I cope with not having any outside space.
Then there’s the nightmare kitchen, the spices crowding the counter from the last time I cooked and didn’t have the mental energy to put them away.
There’s the enormous old water stain on the ceiling and the paint peeling off the walls with spidering cracks around every window.
God, it’s a mess.
I’ma hot mess, and he gets to see me at peak ugly.
“It’s very… green in here,” he finally says. A fair comment—itisgreen. And considering everything else, it’s about the nicest thing he could say about the war zone.
Just then, there’s a raspy squeak by our legs. I look down just in time to see the hairiest cat alive adding his fur to Dexter’s immaculate pants.
“This is Catness,” I say stiffly as the meower sniffs, rubbing his head on Dex’s shin. “He’s not usually good with strangers, so don’t mind him. Much. If you need it, I can grab you a lint roller.”
Dex crouches and holds out a hand to Catness.
Whatever else I expected, it’s definitely not that.
“Nah, I like animals. They’re easier than people,” he tells me as my traitorous feline forgets his usual stranger-danger ways and plows his little face into Dexter’s hand with brisk snorts.
Great.
The man who screws me up the most just has to have a magic kinship with cats.
“Do you want to sit?” I gesture to a sofa that’s now laundry free. “Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“No, it’s my fault.” He sits and Catness immediately leaps on the arm of the chair beside him.
I retrieve my dinner and sit back down too, digging in to escape the embarrassment. “I hope you don’t mind. You kinda caught me at dinnertime.”
He nods.
Inwardly, I’m shriveling up into a prune. Humiliation of the Dexter Rory kind will do that.
Last time we met, I was so drunk I kissed his face off. Or let him kiss me into the next century.Or something.
And worse—I think we both liked it.
I know I did.
