Page 114 of The Wrong Groom

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of begrudging amusement in his expression as he reaches for the kitten. Pepper looks especially small in his hands. She’s small enough that she fits in his cupped palms.

Gabriel holds the kitten gingerly, like she’s something fragile he might accidentally break. The kitten sniffs at the crook of his thumb for a moment before settling herself in his arms. Her purring grows louder, and she closes her eyes, clearly content. Gabriel looks down at her, his expression softening despite himself.

The sight of Gabriel holding a tiny, happy kitten makes my heart feel like it’s about to explode.

“Aw, she loves you,” I say. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Gabriel glances up at me with a shrug, careful not to disturb the kitten. “She’s just purring because I’m warm.”

“No way,” I counter. “Look at her. You’re her favorite.”

As I speak, the kitten stretches slightly in Gabriel’s hands. Her tiny paws reach up toward his chin, as if she’s trying to nuzzle him. She purrs even louder, and after a few seconds, flops onto her back.

“She trusts you,” I point out with a grin.

Gabriel meets my gaze, his lips twitching into a reluctant half-smile. He looks so awkward and stiff, so unsure of what to do in this situation, that I have to suppress a laugh.

“I guess so,” he says.

I reach over to stroke the kitten’s soft fur. “Welcome to the family, Pepper.”

Gabriel takes care of the paperwork to adopt the kitten, and the shelter volunteer helps us tuck Pepper into a cardboard crate with air holes in the sides. The tiny animal is curious and energetic inside the crate. Rather than curl up on the blanket the shelter provided, she spends her time sticking her pink nose and little paws into the holes in the cardboard, exploring her environment.

In the back seat of the car, Peyton entertains herself by playing with Pepper, dangling one of her shoelaces in front of the holes in the box and watching the kitten scramble to snag it with her tiny claws. Gabriel takes the wheel and drives us to the pet shop down the street to pick up some essentials.

Pepper and Gabriel wait in the car while Peyton and I head inside to pick out the supplies. We promise Gabriel that we’ll only get the essentials, but the pet store proves to be too tempting for us. By the time we emerge, we’ve bought out half the cat aisles.

We pick up all of the planned essentials: dry food, a water fountain, litter box and litter, cat carrier, and the scratching post that I hope will save Gabriel’s furniture. But Peyton manages to talk me into an assortment of cat toys, a bag of treats, and a soft, pastel-colored blanket that she insists Pepper will love. One of the store’s clerks has to help us carry all of our purchases to the car.

I brace myself for Gabriel to be angry, but of course, he only sighs and shakes his head. He seems amused, frankly. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. My parents would have lost their minds at me for being so irresponsible and frivolous, but Gabriel doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Once the car is loaded up, we drive home. The plan is to let Pepper acclimate to our house slowly. She’ll live in the basement bathroom for a few days until she settles into her new environment. Then, slowly, she’ll be allowed to explore.

When we pull into the driveway, Peyton is the first to scramble out of the car. She’s clearly eager to get Pepper inside. She tries to pick up Pepper’s cardboard crate on her own, but she’s too short. Gabriel steps in to help. Together, we ferry the kitten and all of her new belongings into the basement.

The bathroom is small, which, according to my online searches, is ideal for introducing a new cat. I set up the litter box in one corner and pour in some of the lightly-scented sand. Gabriel gets to work setting up the fountain, and Peyton scatters some of Pepper’s new toys around the room in strategic places. She then folds up the blanket we picked up and places it on top of the toilet to give her kitten a nice, soft place to sleep.

Finally, it’s time to let Pepper out of her makeshift crate. Peyton does the honors, pulling apart the cardboard flaps. As soon as she spots the opening, Pepper wriggles free. She leaps to the floor and starts to roam around the edges of the room, her whiskers twitching.

Peyton crouches down to her level and holds out a white-furred felt mouse. “Here, Pepper. A new toy for you!”

“She might not be ready to play just yet,” Gabriel warns. “She’s got some adjusting to do.”

Pepper steps into the litter box and gives it a cursory sniff, then makes her way over to the sink to inspect the faucet.

“Maybe we should let her be alone for a while,” I suggest. “This is probably pretty overwhelming for her.”

“We should give her some food, though,” Peyton protests.

“Of course. Here, do you want to measure it?”

I walk Peyton through the steps of measuring out Pepper’s special kibble, designed for young kittens. She pours it into the steel bowl and sets it on the floor next to the water fountain.

“Okay. Let’s give her some space,” I say, laying a hand on Peyton’s shoulder.

“Okay.” Peyton bends down to stroke Pepper on the head. Despite all of the excitement, Pepper still seems to enjoy the petting. She squints her eyes and lets out a tiny squeak. “I’ll be back later, Pepper!”

The three of us slip out of the bathroom, careful to close the door behind us so that Pepper doesn’t escape. Then we head upstairs for dinner. Gabriel whips us up a few steaks on the grill and sautés some vegetables.