Page 11 of First Moon

“I don’t care where it is, just that we have one.”

I laughed and pressed myself closer to him. His arms tightened around my waist, then he leaned in, capturing my mouth like we’d done it a thousand times already. I kissed him back, and it occurred to me that, whatever I’d done with other men, it had not been kissing. This was kissing.

When we broke apart, a white cat with one of those flat faces appeared at the pool’s edge to glare at us with enormous copper eyes.

“Um, we have company,” I said.

“That’s Oscar,” Jack said.

“What’s up with his face?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, sounding offended.

“It’s all flat, like someone squished it with something heavy.”

“He’s an Exotic Shorthair. Very expensive.”

“You have a designer cat?” I asked, laughing.

“I’m not sure why that’s funny.” He laughed too, then kissed me again. “You should say hello. He’s a sucker for a beautiful woman.”

“How do you know?”

“We talk,” Jack said.

I disentangled myself from him and swam over to the side of the pool where Oscar was now giving himself a very thorough bath. Hanging onto the edge of the pool, I said hello to him.

Oscar halted his bath to blink at me.

“I’d pet you, but my hand’s wet,” I said to him.

He let out a cat sigh and resumed his bath. Jack swam up next to me.

“You want to know the truth about Oscar?” Jack asked.

“I’m dying to know everything about him.”

“He was my ex-girlfriend’s cat.”

“Okay?” I asked.

“Lisa left him when she left me.”

“Why did she leave?”

“Short answer? She fell in love with someone else. A guy who was allergic to cats. So Oscar stayed with me.”

“Were you together when she fell in love with this other guy?”

“We were. I mean, not really together. I was on tour. She was staying here while I was gone and, according to her, one thing led to another with this guy from work and then she knew he was the one and that was that.”

“Did she leave Oscar all alone here?”

“Kind of.” Jack rested his chin on his hands, kicking his legs out behind him. “Marcus looks after him when I’m away.”

“What’s the long answer to why she left?” I asked, taking the same position on the side of the pool.

“Lisa wasn’t in the music business, so she had little tolerance for my lifestyle. She didn’t like how I was gone on tour so often. Or that I can get obsessive when I’m writing a new song and forget that there’s a life outside of chasing three chords and a rhyme. Plus, I’m independent. Always have been. She wanted someone more attentive. Less lone wolf, I think is how she put it.”