“Oh.” He looks down at the cat. “That’s not fair. Fettuccine would be a good boy.”
Turning my back on them, I leave the cart for Lou to push and gather more items for Fettuccine including a necessary litter box. I don’t want little turd burglars appearing in my apartment.
“Ooh, look. I have to get him a collar and nametag.” I run over like an excited kid to the whole row of collars and leashes—leashes specifically labeled for cats. I can’t imagine walking my cat, but maybe I should consider it.
My friends follow me and I nearly lose my shit when I notice Fettuccine sits on Tanner’s shoulder like some sort of bird.
I scour the collars and finally pull out one I like. It’s blue with little sundaes on it.
“Come here, Fettuccine,” I coo, and Tanner reaches up and grabs the kitten from his shoulder, holding him out for me. I try the collar on and it’s a perfect fit. “You look snazzy, buddy.” I unclip it from his tiny neck and drop it in the cart with the rest of the goodies. I don’t even want to think about how much this is going to cost me. It’s a good thing I just took a partial payment for a large nude portrait—a gift from a woman to her fiancé.
Adding in some food bowls, a couple more toys since I don’t know what he might like to play with, and even a small shirt that says #1 Savage, I finally move to the checkout. I pay for everything, including a nametag they conveniently have a machine for.
Lou and Tanner follow me over to the machine carrying the bags and Fettuccine. I think Fettuccine likes Tanner as much as Tanner likes him.
I put in the special coin they gave me and go about selecting the style and color I want, before I type in the information.
“But I want a guinea pig, Dad. They’re so fluffy and cute.”
I freeze at the sound of the child’s voice breezing in through the automatic doors.
“Tobias, I told you—we’re getting a beta fish. That’s it. We are not leaving here with anything that poops everywhere and requires maintenance.”
I pray to every god I know offhand that Jamie doesn’t notice me here.
Or Lou.
Or Tanner.
Or freaking Fettuccine.
Goddammit, why did I have to bring the cat? I could’ve totally passed this off as helping a friend.
Except Jamie knows your friends.
Shit, I’m screwed.
“Oh, hey Jamie,” Tanner blurts and waves with his empty hand, the other one holding the cat.
Jamie freezes, his eyes swinging to the three of us huddled around the nametag machine.
I’ve never wanted to run and hide so badly before.
“Miranda!” Toby cries, running at me and throwing his arms around me.
“Hi, Toby.” I hug him back.
He pulls away and grins up at me with a smile that’s the twin to his father’s. “Can you come over and paint with me again?”
My eyes flick up to Jamie.
Yeah, we’re kind of sorta, but not really dating, but that doesn’t mean he wants me spending more time with his son.
I shrug. “Sure, hopefully soon. I still need to pick up the ones I did with you before.”
Mini-Jamie vibrates with pride. “They’re so pretty Miranda. You’re a really good artist. My dad is letting me keep them in my room. I promise I won’t let anything happen to them.” He crosses his fingers over his heart. “Well, the rest of them. My dad said one got messed up.”
“That’s okay. I trust you.” I ruffle his hair.
Toby hurries back to his dad’s side and Jamie narrows his eyes on the kitten and then me. “That cat better be going home with him.” He points at Tanner.
“Oh, totally.” I wave a dismissive hand.
Tanner tries to stifle a sort.
Lou rolls her eyes.
Some friends I have. They’re not helping to cover for my ass at all.
“But it has your name on it.”
Fuck.
My.
Life.
Toby points at the screen where loud and clear it says IF FOUND CALL MIRANDA HERSHEL.
My worried eyes reluctantly meet Jamie’s.
“Miranda,” he growls lowly. “You can’t keep the cat.”
“I told you so,” Lou fake coughs. I glare at her and she backs away, setting the bags on the ground.
“I tried to take him,” I explain, holding my hands up pleadingly. “But they had no room.” It’s a lie, I didn’t try, but I’m sure the animal shelter is full. “Besides, it’s a kill shelter. I can’t leave him there.”
“Him? I thought it was a girl.”
“Uh…”
“She took it to the vet.”
“Tanner,” I whine. “You guys are not helping.” My treacherous friends are far too amused by my discomfort to care whether or not they’re doing me a favor.
“Surprise, it’s a boy,” Tanner adds, wiggling the fingers of his free hand.
“I need new friends,” I grumble under my breath.
“You can’t keep the cat.”
“Jamie,” I plead, jutting out my bottom lip and clasping my hands beneath my chin. “He chose me. I can’t just abandon him.”
He sighs, looking dejected. “My hands are tied. I only own a few apartments, not the whole complex, and the rules are simple—no pets.”
Tears burn my eyes and I look from Jamie to the cat. “I’m not getting rid of him. I’ll … I’ll … move somewhere else.”
He pinches his nose and exhales sharply. “I’ve had a rough day and I don’t want to argue with you right now.” It’s then that I noticed his disheveled appearance. His dress pants are wrinkled, his suit jacket gone, dress sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned, and tie askew. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it a million times.
“Fine,” I agree. “But I’m keeping him.”
I push the button so the machine will start engraving the nametag.
Jamie shakes his head and his tired, bleary eyes look at the three of us. “I’ll talk to you later,” he mumbles, “this isn’t over.”
It’s safe to say Jamie and I both have the same level of stubbornness. But I will win this.
“Come on, Tobias.” He puts a hand on his son’s shoulder and guides him away. “Let’s get that fish.”
“A guinea pig, Dad.”
Jamie sighs heavily and I suppress a laugh, because clearly Toby is as strong-willed as I am.
Jamie might’ve gotten his way for years, but that isn’t happening anymore.
* * *
Olive Garden takeout bags litter Lou’s kitchen countertop. There’s a smorgasbord of pastas, salad, breadsticks, and soup spread out so we can all have a bit of this and that.
Abel looked relieved when he got home and saw all the food. He grabbed a plate and immediately started piling food onto it. Him and Lou share a chair, her draped in his lap, while Tanner and I sit on opposite ends of the couch letting Fettuccine run back and forth between us. Friends plays as background noise on the TV. God knows Lou and I have watched every episode multiple times.
I pierce my fork through a bite of lasagna, popping it into my mouth.
Italian food soothes my wicked soul. Anyone who says they don’t like pasta is a monster I don’t want to meet.
“So,” Abel twirls spaghetti around his fork, “you have a cat now.”
“Temporarily,” Lou interjects.
I glare at her. “Permanently. I’m keeping him.” I smile as I watch the furry gremlin attack my toe.
“Mhmm,” she hums doubtfully.
I toss a pillow at her and she laughs, knocking it away easily.
I know Jamie has to have some sort of sway over my ability to keep the kitten. Besides, whatever the others in charge don’t know won’t hurt anything. After all, it’s a cat, not a dog. It’s not like he can bark at all hours of the day and night. Cats mostly sleep, right?
Granted, my knowledge is limited, but I’m willing to learn and be the best cat mom there ever was.
F
ettuccine dive bombs into my leg and I laugh when he falls back and rolls over.
Maybe it’s stupid to feel so strongly about a kitten that fell through my ceiling, but I do. I smile to myself as the tiny kitten runs over to Tanner, crawling up his leg and digging his claws into his cotton shirt.
Abel grins, watching Fettuccine. “I think Jamie has met his match when it comes to you. I’m thoroughly looking forward to seeing who wins this argument. My bets on you.” He tips his head in appreciation.
I place a dramatic hand on my chest. “At least someone is on my side.” I glare at Lou.
“Hey, I am too,” Tanner pipes in. “This little guy is the perfect new member for our friend group.”
Lou frowns and leans forward on the edge of Abel’s lap to get closer to me. “I’m not against you, I’m just trying to be realistic. Chances are, you’re not going to be able to keep the cat.”
“He fell from the ceiling,” I emphasize, gesturing wildly. My plate of food nearly goes flying off the arm of the couch, but I grab it in time before it can splatter all over the pink-hued rug. “If you, oh believer in fate, don’t think that means something then I’m convinced you’ve been body snatched.”
“He is awfully cute.” She bites her lip, watching Fettuccine scamper back and forth. “But I do think it’ll be impossible to convince Jamie to let you keep him.”
Tanner snorts and picks up the kitten, rubbing its nose against his. “If anyone can convince Jamie, it’s you.”
20
Jamie
“See, Dad, I told you a guinea pig would be way better than a fish.”
I stare at the furry creature housed in the colorful cage on my son’s dresser. It’s black and white, with floppy ears, and a wrinkly pink nose. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but he thinks it’s perfect.
I could curse his school for their grand idea of having the second graders get a pet. Their suggestion was a fish, which I didn’t like either, but was far better than the overfed gerbil looking thing I now share a home with.
“Oh, yeah, way better than a fish,” I say sarcastically. My tone goes right over my son’s head.
Tobias twists his head, watching the animal. “I’m going to name him Oreo.”
“Very original,” I comment, shoving my hands in my pockets, twisting my head the opposite way of Tobias’s to inspect the guinea pig.
“Boys?” My mom pokes around the entrance to his room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Can Oreo eat dinner with us?”
I eye the dirty looking creature. “No, he stays here.”
“Can I play with him in my room after?”
“No.”
My mom sighs from the doorway.
“Dad,” Tobias whines, stomping his foot, hands clasped into fists. “I have to spend time with him. That’s the point.”
It’s moments like this I’m so thankful I have a son, not a daughter. While Tobias can have his moods, a girl would be way worse, and God forbid I even think about the teenage years. I shudder at the thought of tampons, boyfriends, and questions I couldn’t even begin to answer.
“You can’t keep that animal locked up all the time,” my mom interjects.
I am severely outnumbered.
“Fine, you can let him out after dinner.”
Sometimes, there’s no point in arguing.
It’s a struggle for me, but I’m learning I have to let some things go when they aren’t worth the argument.
“Come on, Monster.” I ruffle Tobias’s hair and place my hands on his shoulders, steering him out of the bedroom.
The two of us follow my mom downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of roasted vegetables permeates the air.
“What’d you make, Mom?” I bend and kiss her cheek. “It smells delicious.”
“It’s a pot roast. It’s been cooking in the Crock-Pot all day.”
“Have I mentioned lately you’re the best?” I drape my arm over her shoulders.
She shakes her head. “Stop plying me with sweet words.” She pushes me off her and I laugh.
I might not tell her all the time, but she knows how thankful I am that she’s been here for Tobias and me. I couldn’t have done all of this without her help. Being a single parent is hard. Knowing I have her in my corner helps.
We sit down with our plates, along with a beer for me, a glass of wine for my mom, and a water for Tobias.
“We should invite Miranda over for dinner sometime.” Tobias drops the sentence in between us casually.
“Oh, what a great idea,” my mother chimes in cheerily. She has this look in her eyes. One of hope and excitement. It makes a pit form in my stomach.
I know she hopes desperately I’ll meet someone and fall in love, that all the stars will align, and whatever other magical stuff she probably thinks up, but I’m not sure I can go back down that path again. I like Miranda, I do, and I want to spend more time with her doing things other than taking our clothes off, but it doesn’t mean we have a future, just a right now.
“She probably wouldn’t want to do that.”
It’s stupid to be scared to have her in my home again, but I think I enjoyed it too much the first time and I’m scared of what might happen if she comes back. I know Tobias wants to take more lessons with her, and I don’t want to hold him back, but it’s all fucking confusing. Even with Shannon I wasn’t this confused and torn up over things. Is this what it’s like to be a woman? Questioning every little thing and detail. It’s exhausting.
“But she likes you, Dad.” Tobias points at me with his fork and I realize he’s seen me do that one too many times and now he’s mimicking the gesture.
Kids. They’re our tiny little clones, perfectly projecting our nuances.
“She’s nice,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders. “You should ask her on a date.”
Technically I’ve taken Miranda on a date, not a real date, but taking her flying was sort of that.
“I’d be okay with it,” he adds, looking at me with eyes the color of my own. “If that’s what’s holding you back from getting a girlfriend, just know, I won’t mind. Especially if she bakes cookies. I really like cookies. Do you think Miranda makes them? You should ask her.”
This kid.
“Maybe, if we keep her, the stork will bring me a brother or sister. That’s what Tommy in my class said happened to his parents. He has a baby sister now. I wouldn’t mind having a baby around, but don’t expect me to change its diapers or hold it when it cries.”
I choke on my beer, and I know this is how I fucking die.
Drowned by a fucking Michelob Ultra thanks to my seven-year-old and his declaration of desire for a sibling.
My mom hides her laughter behind a napkin.
“You should take her to dinner,” he continues. “Dress nice, though. You look like a bum.”
I look down at the sweatpants and t-shirt I changed into when we finally got home with the rat. Oh, I mean guinea pig. Across the table, my son is dressed like a tiny 18th century gentleman. He certainly doesn’t get his sense of style from me. God knows I hate the days I have to dress up and play boss.
“Toby, I think that’s enough advice for your dad for one evening.” My mom finally intervenes, leaning over to pat the top of his hand in warning.
She used to do the same thing to me growing up when I’d babble on about something.
Tobias shrugs, poking at his food with his fork in his opposite hand. “All I’m saying is, if he’s nervous that’s okay. Maybe I can ask her to go bowling with you?” he suggests, looking at me with wide innocent hazel eyes. “That way you don’t have to do it, or go by yourself.”
I scrub my hands down my face, my mom laughing once more.
My son trying to wingman me is hilarious, sure, but also mortifying. He’s seven. What does he know about any of this? Maybe I should have a talk with this Tommy kid in his class and tell him to shut up about all talk of storks.
Yeah, I mig
ht’ve always thought I’d have more kids than one, but since I don’t plan to ever go down the path of marriage again it’s not in the cards for me. Tobias will have to learn to be okay being an only child. I was. It’s not the worst thing ever.
“Do you have her number?” he continues, oblivious to my distress. “I can call her for you.”
If ever in my life I wanted to be struck by lightning, now is the moment.
“You could send her flowers.” He’s on a full on rant now, and my mother is laughing so hard tears stream down her face. I want to fucking disappear. “You’ve never had a girlfriend, and I really think you should get one. I’m not going to be around forever, Dad, and I don’t want you to get lonely.”
My mom covers her face with a linen napkin, her whole body shaking. Tobias picks at his food like there is nothing wrong with what he’s saying. And me? I’ve never felt so attacked in my entire life.
Clearing my throat, I look my son clear in the eyes. “I’m not lonely Tobias. I have you and Grandma Jo.”
He rolls his eyes. “Did you not hear anything I said, Dad?” He lets go of his fork where it clatters against the plate. “I’m not going to live here forever. Grandma Jo is old, so she’s going to die. Then it’ll just be you.”
My mom’s mouth pops open and she swats him lightly on his arm with her napkin. “I’m not old!”
He tilts his head, looking up at her. “You have wrinkles on your neck, that means you’re old.”
She looks across the table at me and I shrug. She was fine when he was ragging on me, so she can deal with it now that the tables are turned.
“Just do me a favor, Dad, and try.”
“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” I grumble, though I’m mildly amused.
“Finish your vegetables, Jamie,” my mother chides, a twinkle in her eyes.
* * *
With dinner finished, dishes clean, and Tobias fresh out of the shower I tuck him into bed, grabbing the book off his end table we’re reading together.
“Are you cozy enough?” I eye his pile of blankets and stuffed animals. There’s barely any room on his bed for me, but I always make it work.
Desperately Seeking Landlord Page 11