Page 46 of Saint Céline
“People who survive by performance.”
I folded my arms. “You analyzed me psychologically because I miss my cat?”
“Yes.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“Frequently.”
I should have left then.
Instead, I asked, “Did you have pets growing up?”
Vincent looked genuinely surprised by the question. Then something distant moved briefly across his face. “A Doberman,” he said after a moment.
I blinked. “That feels aggressively on brand.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “His name was Hector.”
“That’s worse.”
“He bit three people.”
“Of course he did.”
“He liked me best. He passed away due to old age a few years ago.”
Vincent looked out toward the ocean.
The softness in his voice startled me. Unrehearsed affection. I suddenly had the strange, disorienting realization that Professor Vincent Moreau probably loved animals more naturally than people. He glanced at me again. “You should go before you lose your nerve.”
“For the cat?”
“For the house.”
My stomach tightened instantly. Right. The Montgomery estate. Katherine’s bedroom. Katherine’s parents. Katherine’s absence. Vincent watched the realization move through me. Then more quietly he said, “Take the cat. She’s yours.”
The gentleness in his voice made me angry on instinct.
“Stop acting like you understand me.”
His expression barely changed. “I understand your grief very well, Selena.”
The way he said it made something cold move beneath my skin.
“Why do you keep calling me Selena? That’s not my name.”
He smirks before walking away.
12
Selena (Past)
Miss Astoria arrived on Katherine’s fourteenth birthday inside a carrier lined with pink satin that looked completely ridiculous against the kitten’s tiny white body. I remember the satin because it shimmered under the dining room lights like something meant for a doll instead of a living animal.
The cat herself looked just as out of place, a purebred ragdoll with blue eyes and paws so soft they barely seemed capable of touching the ground.
Mrs. Montgomery had spent three weeks pretending she knew nothing about the gift while leaving breeder brochures scattered around the house and asking questions at dinner like whether cats ever got lonely. Katherine had noticed everything, the way she always did, but she still gasped when her father carried the carrier into the room after the cake had been cut.
