The vet had been able to see us immediately. The kitten, a boy, had been attacked by a dog according to the looks of the puncture wounds. The vet cleaned him and medicated the area, then gave me one of those bowl things to go around his neck. I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at how ridiculous this poor cat looked. After the vet, I made a stop at Walmart and picked up essentials for her new pet: food, litter box, litter, and a collar. I’d ended up back home in less than an hour after Francesca left, giving me the day free. I had a job, I didn’t like it, but Pops had made sure I was free for our meeting this morning.
Anger rose in me as I realized he probably knew Francesca was going to be my lawyer. The dirt bag did that on purpose, hoping I would make a fool of myself in front of her. Mom couldn’t have known…she knew how much Francesca always meant to me. She’d never even met her, yet she loved her. I punched the coffee table, making the kitten jump up from his uncomfortable looking nap. I reached out, caressing his head, “Sorry,” I told it, petting him until he relaxed back to sleep. I jumped up, rushing to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Jack. It was merely 11 a.m., so I knew I could have it out of my system before I had to go get Francesca. I sat back, relaxing with the calming liquid in my hand. Flipping the TV on, I channel surfed through the bottle. Time had a way of getting away from me.
I woke suddenly, my mind fuzzy. I was supposed to do something. I looked around, trying to gather my bearings when I saw the cat staring at me expectantly. Shit. Francesca. I frantically searched for my phone, grabbing it from my side table. The time said I had ten minutes to be there and I knew I’d never make it on time. I dialed the office, letting the assistant know I would be running late and ran to find my keys. I gathered the food, the cat, and the medicine from the vet and dashed out the door. I drove recklessly, but that was nothing new with me. I seemed to catch every damn red light in the town. Isn’t that the way it always goes? You’re in a hurry and the universe tries every way possible to stop you. I pulled into the firm’s parking lot, skidding to a stop when I saw Francesca nearing the vehicle. I reached across, opening her door, while madly trying to stop the cat from escaping.
She gasped, catching the cat in her arms and glaring at me. “Really, Cade? Just open the door with a cat in the car?”
“Sorry,” I said, praying she couldn’t tell I’d been drinking.
I heard her sniffle…then she sniffed the air, leaning closer to do it again. “You’re drinking and driving,” she spat at me, anger evident on her gorgeous face.
“It’s been hours, it’s ok…”
“I cannot believe you would drink and get behind the wheel of a car after what happened. Dammit Cade, put the car in park and let me drive,” she demanded, grasping the cat firmly and stepping out of the vehicle.
It seemed I didn’t have a choice in the matter, so I shifted gears and got out, avoiding her death glare. I hated that she was right so much. And I hated that I’d upset her after I thought I’d gotten in a good spot with her.
She sat behind the wheel, setting the cat down in the backseat. She adjusted the seat, mirror, and wheel to her liking, not once looking at me. I studied her, realizing just how sexy she was when she was angry. Probably wasn’t the best time to tell her that, though.
“Do you want to know what the vet said?” I questioned, hoping to change the subject so she would forget some of her anger.
The car jerked forward as she said, “Yes,” firmly and with no emotion. She stared straight ahead, not once glancing at me.
“Well, it’s a he, like I said, and he has to wear that bowl thing for ten days. You have another appointment then, the card is in my wallet, and the doctors gave me some antibiotics to help heal him.”
She didn’t say anything. Her eyes were locked on the road. I didn’t know where we were going, but it wasn’t back to my place. I leaned back as the cat climbed over the back of my seat and curled up in my lap.
“Hamlet,” she said, gazing at the red light we had been at for what seemed like forever.
“Excuse me?” I asked, confused.
“His name is Hamlet,” she said, nodding to the sleeping fur ball in my lap.
I stroked his back, his purring kicking up a notch even though he didn’t open his eyes. “Hamlet. I like it. Why Hamlet, though?”
“It was my favorite Shakespeare play in high school,” she told me, her voice flat. The light turned green, and she eased the car back in motion.
“Francesca…” I attempted to explain, but she cut me off fast.
Holding her hand up, voice stern, she said, “Not now, Cade. Just wait until I get you sobered up.”
“I’m fine,” I tried to tell her, but she shook her head and kept driving.
“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice shaking.
I backed off, staring out the window instead. I knew we were on the other side of town, but I had no idea where she lived now. Being a lawyer, I supposed she had an upscale place, making my small apartment dull in comparison. I had a one bedroom that was perfect for me. Easy to clean, simple to furnish, it was actually more than I needed. She turned on a street that housed modest homes, and I was surprised. I thought for sure she would have an apartment, but this whole street was houses.
She pulled into a small, white home that had a decent size yard with rose bushes. A weeping willow was tilted off the side, appearing to be protecting the place. Large windows were encased on the front, a large covered porch beckoned us as soon as she put the vehicle in park. I stepped out, clutching Hamlet close to me so he couldn’t escape. Walking around, I handed him off to her, reaching in the back to gather his supplies. She waited at the door, eyeing me suspiciously.
“What?” I asked, looking down to make sure my fly wasn’t hanging open.
“Nothing. Making sure you don’t fall over or something. I am a lawyer, I don’t need you suing me.” She turned, unlocking the door and ushering me in.
I stifled my laughter and stepped in. The interior was nice and screamed Francesca. Pictures from elementary school on lined the walls. Girly things that I wouldn’t even know where to find decorated shelves, a chair was situated not far in the door. She dropped her bag in it, kicking her shoes underneath. I couldn’t stop myself from being mesmerized by her movements. Everything she did captivated me. She continued forward, stopping at a door.
“Keep going straight, set all that on the kitchen table. I’ll be right there,” she instructed.
I nodded and she disappeared. I found the kitchen, setting everything down. I looked around, impressed with the red and black theme she had. It was sleek and sexy…for a kitchen. She had everything cleaned and immaculate, something that didn’t surprise me. I went to the refrigerator, inspecting the photos. I saw some of her and the girl she had been close with in high school, Daphne, and a few of her family, but the one that stood out was her and tall, blond man. My heart clenched realizing she may very well be in a relationship. I’d always thought of her as mine, but that was unfair. We hadn’t spoken in years. She would have found someone…she was too amazing to be single.
“I’m making you coffee,” her voice sung from behind me.
I turned, taking in her new attire. She wore jeans that fit in all the right places and the shirt she’d had under her jacket flowed around her hips. She looked amazing. Her blonde locks were cascading down her back and around her shoulders. She literally took my breath away.
“Ok,” I uttered dumbly, not blinking.
She glanced down, “What?”
“You are still so beautiful,” I said.
Her face became hard again. “You’re drunk, sit down,” she said, pointing to the chair.
“Fine,” I said a little too harshly, “but I think you’re beautiful when I’m sober, too.”
She stopped and I saw her shoulders tense. She gripped the counter, then went back to getting the coffee pot ready. She worked quickly, filling everything and clicking i
t on. She spun around, clicking her tongue and searching for Hamlet.
“Hamlet, here kitty, kitty,” she cooed, directing herself to the kitchen. I heard the sound of his bowl thing hit a wall and I had to cover my mouth to hide the laughter.
She turned angrily, “Don’t laugh at him!” she practically shouted.
I bent my lips in, trying my hardest to not piss her off. She looked at me and I could tell she was about to break. She finally let it out and laughed with me.
“It’s sad, but kind of funny, too,” she admitted after she could breathe again. She ran off, searching for Hamlet and came back with him cradled in her arms. “Pretty boy, it’s ok,” she whispered, snuggling her face close to him. Sitting him down on the floor beside the table, she rummaged through looking for the food. She grabbed two bowls and made his meal of milk and cat food. He ate at my place, but the poor thing must have been starved.
“The medicine has to stay refrigerated,” I said, remembering what all the vet had told me.
She pulled it out, put it up, and moved on to the coffee. She pulled out a pink glittered mug, glanced at me with a smirk, and poured. Setting it in front of me, she said cheerfully, “drink up!”
I stared at her, “really? You don’t have another cup I could use?”
“Nope. Now get sober so I can yell at you.”
I saluted, taking a long swig of the drink. It was hot and bitter. I sat it down, making a face, “You didn’t put anything in it?”
She shook her head, “No, I need you sober soon. Drink up,” she commanded.
I downed the cup and another before she was happy with my sobriety. I sat it down, staring at her expectantly.
She seated herself in front of me, clasped her hands together, and spat out, “What the hell were you thinking drinking and driving? I mean, really, Cade? After everything that’s happened, you would still be so reckless, stupid, and immature! And not to mention, you’re already in legal trouble. What exactly do you think a DUI would do for you? Huh? Not anything good, I can assure you that,” she rambled on. “I just can’t believe you would be foolish enough to drink and drive after the accident. And to pick me up, of all people! I don’t know what you were thinking.”
I cast my eyes down, letting her tear me a new one. Everything she said was right. I was stupid. My drinking had caused her enough pain, and now I was pulling this. “I’m sorry, Francesca. You’re completely right. I wasn’t thinking. And I’m sorry to bring back thoughts of the accident,” I told her, scraping my chair back to stand. “I think it’s time I head home.”
She didn’t budge, but called out, “You don’t have to remind me of the accident. I’m haunted by it every single day.”
I opened the door, sliding out. I inhaled the fresh air, and closed my eyes. She’d stolen my heart, and in return, I’d ruined her life.
Mangled Hearts Page 8