by L A Witt
“Quiet, you.” I hoisted Harley off my vital organs and set her on the coffee table so I could sit up. “What do you want to do for dinner?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “Something easy. I’m wiped.”
I studied him as I stood up, brushing cat hair off my shirt and jeans and wiping a little cat drool off my neck. “Yeah? How did today go, anyway?”
Another shrug, and damn, the fatigue was radiating off him now. “It was all right. They’re digging into a case Ruiz and I were involved with eons ago, but I didn’t get the impression anyone really thinks it was a bad shoot.”
“Just covering their bases?”
He nodded.
I came around the couch, put a hand on his waist, and kissed him lightly. Then I gestured for him to follow me into the kitchen. While I looked through the fridge in search of something inspiring, I said, “That the only one they asked you about?”
“No.” He sighed. “When I was assigned to Larson, we responded to an officer shooting, so they called both of us in to grill us about it.”
I glanced at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded, expression distant. “I think they’re going to reopen that one for real.”
“Oh shit.”
“Seriously.”
I closed the fridge and pulled a couple of take out menus off the freezer door. “You think it was a bad shoot?”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but I wasn’t there for most of the action. With as hard as they were questioning us about it today…” He half-shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.” He gestured at the takeout menus in my hand. “Anything look good?”
“Eh, not really. Want me to just order Thai?” That had become our go-to on nights when neither of us felt like anything in particular.
“Sounds good. I’m, uh… Going to go change clothes.”
I nodded, and he left the kitchen while I pulled up the Thai restaurant’s number in my phone. I glanced at the doorway he’d gone through. This was definitely stressing him out, and I didn’t blame him. Knowing him, he’d be beating himself up over anything he might have done—or not done—that had led to another cop getting away with cold-blooded murder. Tonight was definitely a night for laziness, takeout, and a couple of beers.
Once the food was on its way, I stepped out of the kitchen, and I found Darren sitting on the couch in sweats and a T-shirt… with Harley on his lap. She was sitting up and leaning against him, and he’d put his arms around her and his chin on top of her head. That seemed like something a cat wouldn’t like, but the purring was audible from across the room.
Eyes closed, Darren said, “We need a kitty.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
He looked up at me, absently petting Harley as he met my gaze. “Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten used to her being around.”
“I… Okay, yes, but that doesn’t mean we need to make it permanent.”
“No, we can’t make it permanent. Because she’s going home to Mark soon.”
My heart actually sank when he said that. She was leaving soon, wasn’t she? This furry pain-in-the-ass creature was getting the hell out of our apartment and going back to her own house while we returned to our normal life that didn’t involve as much fur on everything… And that kind of bummed me out.
“You know you want one.” He grinned, the expression tired, but playful. “Don’t act like you haven’t fallen in love with her.” I really didn’t want to entertain the idea of getting a cat, and I didn’t want to think about how soon this little shit was leaving, but the subject probably bothered Darren a hell of lot less than everything he’d been through today. So, I ran with it.
Sighing, I sat down beside him and scratched under her chin. “Okay, having her here has been better than I thought it would be. But that doesn’t mean we need to get one.”
“But it would be fun.” He nuzzled her fluffy neck and kissed her, which made her wrinkle her nose and pull away. Darren chuckled. “See? She’s just as temperamental as you are. It would be like having another you around the house.”
“You say that like it’s a selling point.”
“Hmm, okay, fair.”
“Hey!”
He laughed, leaning back against the couch. As he watched himself stroking her long, gray coat, he sobered. “It really would be fun, though, don’t you think?”
I stared at the cat, who was looking right back at me with those kitty eyes. And damn if Darren wasn’t deploying the puppy dog eyes at the same time. All they needed was one of my daughters and their “but daddy” faces, and I would be legitimately powerless to say no.
“We don’t need a cat,” I protested.
“No, we don’t.” Darren grinned. “We want a cat.”
“You want a cat.”
“And I have photographic proof that you enjoy kitty cuddles, so don’t tell me you wouldn’t want access to them all the time.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Pushing myself to my feet, I said, “I need to get my wallet so I can pay for the food.”
As I walked out of the living room, he called after me, “This isn’t over.”
I just laughed. No, it wasn’t over.
But we were not getting a cat.
Chapter 6
Darren
One of the gifts Andreas and I were given—after the fact, since we’d eloped—for our wedding was a cuckoo clock. It came from my mother’s eccentric aunt, who apparently had a whole collection of the things and had given one to my mom when she got married, and another to my brother, Asher, when he married. When it was my turn to tie the knot, she hadn’t faltered in her tradition, just sent the clock on with a note that read, “The cuckoo, it tolls for thee! Many happy returns, Love, Aunt Ethel.”
I thought it was hilarious. Andreas would have happily turned it into kindling, but I liked the ridiculous little bird in a red hat and lederhosen—yeah, it wore pants—that came out every hour with a reliable, repetitive squawk. Emily liked it too, so we’d had our way on that argument.
But right now, I was finding it hard not to rip the damn thing off the wall and throw it into a closet. It was our last evening with Harley, and every cuckoo brought us closer to goodbye.
“Did we get all her food into the bag?” I called from the kitchen to the living room, where Andreas was hanging out with Harley on the couch.
“All of it.”
“Even the wet stuff?”
“Every last can.”
“What about the new bag of litter?” Which—we’d been given plenty of litter, but it was some chemically scented crap that smelled like a lilac had been crossbred with a bottle of acetone. Blegh.
“It’s in the pile.”
“What about the scratching post?” Harley had been good about using the post instead of our couch, which I appreciated.
“Darren.” Andreas sighed. “You moved it to the door yourself half an hour ago. Everything is ready. There’s nothing left to do but wait and pet the kitty. So come on, babe. Come pet the kitty.”
He made it sound so easy. As if letting myself indulge in cat cuddles right now was going to make me feel better once she was gone.
Then again, it probably wouldn’t make me feel any worse, so…
I walked over to the couch and sat down next to Andreas, who had Harley in his lap, purring like a fuzzy feline engine. I reached out and stroked behind her ears, and she opened her eyes partway and gave me a look that I interpreted as “Good human, now you’ve got it.”
“You okay?” Andreas asked after a moment.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Because you look a little wobbly. And that’s fine.”
I snorted. “Thanks for that. I’m not going to cry or anything, I just…” I thought about it for a second. “I didn’t expect to like having a cat around so much. And I know not every cat would make me feel this way. Harley is just a special kind of sweet, grumpy asshole, but that kind of makes it worse?” It made the thought of possibly looking for a cat of our own f
eel kind of futile, because they wouldn’t be Harley. This cat was clearly one of a kind, and that kind was awesome.
Andreas leaned over and kissed the side of my head. I took the hint and leaned in close to him, resting my temple against his shoulder. “I didn’t grow up with a lot of pets,” he began, and I had to laugh because yeah, growing up with his parents? Pets would have been an absolute no-no. Think of the stains!
“But I got them for my older kids,” he went on. “A couple of dogs, some hamsters—a fucking loud parakeet we got from a neighbor. And one thing I learned was that, no matter what kind of pet it is, as long as you genuinely care for them you’re going to get some kind of enjoyment out of them. It’s not the same with every single one—Erin’s dog was a little mutt terrier, while the boys wanted a German Shepherd. Couldn’t have been more different, personality-wise, but they were each fun in their own way. So yeah, Harley is special, but they’re all special, just like people.”
Was he trying to make me feel better by insinuating that we could get our own cat? Because I’d been working on him for the past five days, but Andreas had held firm. I opened my mouth to ask, and—
“Cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo!” Before Andreas could even roll his eyes at the noise, the doorbell rang.
Harley jumped off his lap and ran to the door. She liked to take the opportunity to play escape artist whenever anyone visited, and she’d already gotten into the hall three times during her stay. Thankfully that was where her wanderings had ended before, but now I knew who that was, and we didn’t need Harley to run for freedom in front of her daddy.
“Does Mark have to be so punctual?” I asked plaintively.
“If he were running late without calling or texting, we’d probably assume he was dying,” Andreas said.
“Yeah, I guess.” I glanced toward the door. “Last chance to take the cat and run for it. We could climb down the fire escape and be three blocks away before they even realized we weren’t home.”
“Maybe you could. You’re the expert at parkouring down fire escapes, after all.” This time the eye roll was very apparent, and I boofed him with Harley’s pillow as he stood up.
“That was one time, and I got the guy!”
“Or was I the one that got him?” Andreas mused, walking toward the door. “Thanks to my fantastic driving skills?”
“You—he ran into your car, don’t think you can—”
He opened the door before I could go on. “Hey, guys. Jesus Christ, Mark, sit down before you fucking fall down.”
“I’m fine,” came the clipped reply, the voice of a man at the edge of his pain tolerance and fighting not to show it. “Harley,” he said in a much warmer voice. “There’s my girl.”
“Don’t bend over, don’t crouch down, and do not pick her up,” Ryan warned. “She can walk downstairs on her own. That’s what the leash is for. Hi, Andreas. Where’s Darren?”
That was my cue. “I’m here.” I pushed up off the couch and headed for the door. I took one look down the hall and immediately detoured into the dining room to grab a chair. Mark really did look one wrong move away from a faceplant, and from the look on Ryan’s face, he knew it too. Of course he did, the guy was a doctor. “Here.” I put the chair down next to the mountain of supplies. “Sit.”
Mark scowled at me. “I don’t need to be coddled, I’m fine.”
“This isn’t for your sake,” I replied, forestalling Andreas, who seemed like he was about to go into great detail about exactly how many different types of shit Mark looked like. “It’s for Harley’s. She obviously wants to cuddle with you, and you need to not pick her up, so compromise—let her sit on your lap and get reacquainted.”
“Oh.” Mark still looked suspicious, but that was kind of his default state with other cops. I had to imagine he was way different with Ryan—who wanted to sleep with someone who looked one sneeze away from cuffing you, after all?
Harley meowed, and that seemed to settle it. Mark sat down—carefully, but on his own—and then Harley was in his lap, purring up a storm.
He smiled, and it changed the entire structure of his face. “How’s my sweetheart?” he murmured. “Did you miss me? I missed you.”
Shit. He was actually cute with his cat. Now I was glad I hadn’t faked our deaths and run off to Tahiti with her. Not to mention, the silent Omg thank you look on Ryan’s face was pleasant. It was nice to be appreciated, even if it involved facilitating the man who was about to take away the best cat ever.
“Did she eat well?”
It took me a moment to realize that Mark was speaking to me. “Oh yeah, she did,” I assured him. “She tried to scam more than her fair share of people food in addition to cat food, but we were pretty diligent.” Except for that one time with the fish sandwiches, and Mark didn’t need to know about that.
“Hmm.”
Gah, that little hum was the worst noise ever, invented to make you think you’d done something wrong even when you knew you were unassailable. I stared at Mark, my face fixed in a pleasant smile, and after a moment Ryan said, “Thanks for collecting all her stuff. Would one of you mind helping me carry it to the car?”
“I’ll go,” Andreas said immediately, and yeah, that was a good choice. If I left him up here with Mark, odds were good they’d start shouting at each other before Ryan and I got back up the elevator, stitches be damned. They didn’t even need to have a topic in mind—arguments just brewed between them like dark magic.
He and Ryan managed to get it all in one go, even the cat tree—which I maintained that she’d needed, even if she hardly spent any time on it—and headed for the elevator. I shut the door so Harley wasn’t tempted, but she didn’t even look up. All her focus was on lying back and purring for the man ever-so-gently stroking the fur of her belly.
Belly rubs. Holy crap, I’d have been eviscerated if I tried that with her.
“You have a great cat,” I said to Mark. He looked slightly surprised I was breaking the silence.
“Thanks.”
“Is she a particular breed?” If I could narrow that down, maybe I could find a kitty with a similar personality.
He shook his head. “I have no clue. I got her at a shelter five years ago. My vet thinks she’s got some Maine Coon in her, since she’s so big, but other than that? I couldn’t say.”
I sighed. That figured.
“You really like her, huh?”
“We both do.” Whatever, it wouldn’t kill me to be honest. “She makes this place feel less lonely, when I’m by myself. And she’s been super snuggly, although she kicked the side of my head in her sleep a few nights ago and almost gave me a concussion.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose. “You let her sleep on your bed?”
“Yeah. It was Andreas’s idea.”
“Really?”
Oh, shit. Had I just given away something I should have kept classified? Would Mark use this as ammunition the next time he and Andreas started sparring? Fuck my big mouth, I should have just—
“She prefers to sleep by my feet,” Mark said a second later. “Right between them, actually. It’s great for making sure I don’t roll over onto my stomach at night.”
I smiled. “That would never work in our bed, I’m too tossy-turny. It’s a technical term,” I added when he started to smirk. “I learned it from my youngest stepdaughter.”
“Did she like Harley?”
“Are you kidding?” Had he ever met any children? Did he never Google “cute cat videos”? Kids and cats were like peanut butter and jelly. “She loved her! The leash was her favorite thing ever. I can’t believe you trained a cat to walk on a leash. You should have seen the looks we got at the park. Emily was eating it up. I took video.” My family was so cute, I was never without my phone these days. “Do you… want to see it?”
“Sure.”
It was as close to a ringing endorsement as I was going to get from Mark. “Check this out.” I pulled up the video of Emily lying on the ground twitchin
g a branch at Harley. Every time Harley swatted it, Emily giggled. By the end of the video she’d dropped the branch, she was laughing so hard.
Mark was genuinely smiling now, one hand moving steadily over Harley as he watched the little screen. “That’s ridiculously cute,” he admitted.
“I know. Almost as cute as Harley with Andreas.”
Mark blinked.
I chuckled because the what the fuck was plain as day on his face. “I’m serious! He’ll never admit it out loud in a million years, but it turns out he likes cats. He’s been babying the hell out of her.”
“Andreas? Babying a cat?” Mark cocked his head. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
I took out my phone, pulled up a picture, and showed it to him. His eyes immediately went huge. I couldn’t blame him—even I still couldn’t believe the sight of my husband holding that huge cat on his hip like a toddler. He was smiling, too.
Squinting a little, Mark leaned in closer. “What the hell is he feeding her?”
I looked at the screen again, then shrugged. “Looks like either a treat or maybe a piece of bacon or something.”
“Great. Now she’s spoiled. Thanks, Andreas.”
“Right? He still insists we’re not getting a cat of our own, but… We’ll see about that.”
“I got her at the Humane Society on 75th,” he said after I put away my phone. “They get a lot of cats in—they’re known for it, way more than dogs or other animals.” He was back to looking as serious as usual, but there was a slightly mischievous glint to his eyes. “Just in case you’re interested.”
Oh, I was interested, all right. “Thanks.”
The door opened a second later. Ryan came in first, his eyes immediately tracking to Mark, looking him over before his expression relaxed. I knew just how stressful it could be having a partner who was dealing with an injury, being worried but at the same time not wanting to smother them. “You ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes.” Mark moved to stand up.
“No, no, nope.” Ryan held up a hand. “You’re not carrying Harley downstairs.”