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Darcy meets me at my apartment door with a judgmental meow. Murder Mittens immediately attempts to climb into my purse.

"Well, boys, your mother may have finally found herself a boyfriend."

Poe blinks at me from the couch while Salem knocks a pen onto the floor.

"Yes, I know. We don't trust men. That's been our policy for years."

After changing into my favorite oversized T-shirt, I settle onto the couch with Darcy in my lap.

My phone rings.

Enzo Moretti.

I answer before I can talk myself out of it.

"Hello?"

"Did you get home safely?"

"Yes. Although Sir Pounce nearly took me out when I came through the door."

"Your orange one?"

I smile. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered."

"Most men stop listening when I mention the cats."

"Then most men are idiots."

I laugh, tucking my feet beneath me. "Is that why you called? To check whether I survived Los Angeles traffic?"

"Partly."

"What's the other part?"

He pauses.

"I wanted to hear your voice."

Oh.

Well, shit.

We talk for another few minutes before he promises to send the details for tomorrow's dinner. When we finally say good night, I remain on the couch staring at my phone.

Then I look down at Darcy.

"I think I'm in trouble."

He yawns.

And for the first time in a very long time, I'm actually looking forward to finding out just how much.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIDGET