Page 84 of Buttons

Balthazar, the cat who once hissed at the mere shadow of a human, leans forward and touches his nose to the stuffed cat’s ear. “See? I saved the day. I brought the brother back.”

“You certainly did, Mi-Mi,” I say, my throat tightening as I look down at her. “You have a very good heart for recognizing what someone needs.”Thanks, Balthazar. Good boy gets extra treats tonight.

Meredith reaches up, her small hands surprisingly steady as she takes Balthazar. “I’ll put them back inside now.”

With a strength born of pure determination, she maneuvers both cats toward the sanctuary doors. Elowen watches them go. Only when the door clicks shut behind Meredith does she turn back to me, her gaze sharpening as she takes in my disheveled state.

“I don’t mean to interject,” Elowen says, her voice dropping an octave. “But Robert Thompson doesn’t just have ‘disagreements.’ He’s a shark. When I called his office a few weeks ago to ask if he would be a sponsor, he told me he only works with people who value the bottom line above all else.”

Hearing how easily he dismissed my wife only makes my resolve firmer. “Then I am no longer the type of person he wants to do business with. I walked out of the meeting.”

“You walked out?” Her eyes widen, searching mine. “Let me get this straight. You left a multi-million-dollar meeting for a surprise inspection and a skittish cat?”

I take a step closer, moving into her personal space, not to dominate it, but to be part of it.

“No, I left it for you, El. Beatrix texted that the inspector was threatening to leave and they still couldn’t get Balthazar.”

Elowen studies me for a long moment. “Robert’s pissed you left, isn’t he?”

“He called it a hobby,” I say, a small, genuine smile touching my lips. “And he told me not to bother calling his office again, which is fine by me. I don’t want to work with the asshole, anyway.”

She reaches out, her fingers hesitating before they graze the fabric of my sleeve.

“You threw away the Thompson deal,” she whispers.

I look at the door where our daughter just disappeared. “I’d rather be the man my children think saved the day.”

“Technically, Meredith thinksshesaved the day.”

I chuckle. “True.”

Elowen’s lips part, her gaze dropping to my mouth for a fleeting second before she looks back up at me. The air between us hums. I don’t wait for her to finish whatever thought she has right now. I don’t calculate the risk, the probability of rejection, or the social appropriateness of the moment. The space between us feels like a magnetic pull I can no longer resist. I reach out, my hand trembling slightly as I cup the side of her face, my thumb brushing against her cheekbone. In response, she leans into my palm, her eyes fluttering closed as I lower my head.

The kiss is slow and quietly sweet. As my other hand finds the small of her back, pulling her flush against my chest, the multi-million-dollar deals and the corporate boardrooms feellike they belong to a different man’s life. Here, in the quiet of her sanctuary, I only want her.

Chapter 35

Julian

Now that the inspector has signed off on the integrity of the building, my wife is ready to finish furnishing and building cat structures. I pull into the sanctuary parking lot at nine a.m. on a Tuesday, my headlights unnecessary in the bright morning sun. This is the first time I have taken a personal day that didn’t involve a doctor’s appointment, but the concept of “Paid Time Off” feels different when the work is for the woman I love. And since the grand opening of the sanctuary is only days away, it’s important that I be here.

I step out of my car, adjusting the straps of my work vest. I’ve discovered that the more covered I am, the less I cringe at the dust.

“You’re early,” Elowen says as she emerges from the building, a smudge of white paint on her cheekbone. She looks vibrant,her natural curls escaping her ponytail in a way that I no longer feel the urge to tidy.

“Yeah, the alignment of the final cat bridges needs a lot of work,” I reply. I walk toward her, my heart doing that strange, uncalculated skip it only does in her presence.

“Did you actually use your PTO? In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you use even an hour.”

I shrug. “Figured it was time. I have over a thousand hours I can use.”

She laughs, my favorite sound. “That’s actually insane, Julian, you know that? Most people lose their PTO after three or four hundred hours.”

“They lose it? As in, it’s gone, even though they earned it?”

“Yup,” she pops the p. “Thank goodness you’re the CEO, though.”

Hmm. Note to self: check my company’s policy. If it’s not realistic to allow unlimited banking, then maybe I can work something else out, like pay-outs in exchange for PTO hours.