Page 74 of Make It Last

“Maybe you’ll feel better after some time,” she offered.

The me from before all of this might have agreed. “I think I will feel better, but that won’t change that I won’t want to work with Brad,” I said gently. “Please let that idea go.”

There were things she did not know about Brad, things I did not have the heart to tell her.

“I have a place to stay,” I added. “I’ll deposit money next week like always,” I continued.

“We miss you, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Can we do a video call next time?”

My heart ached a little. “Absolutely, Mom,” I said. “Love you.”

“Love you, honey,” she replied as I tapped the screen to end the call.

I leaned back into the couch cushions and let out a dramatic sigh. Growly seemed to sense that I was upset. He shifted from his favorite spot in the corner of the couch and padded over to me, curling against my hip and purring.

“Hey, dude,” I murmured, scratching beside his ears.

He loved that. I smiled down at him. “I wish you could tell me all about your life and what happened before I met you.” He purred in response, giving me what I chose to interpret as a loving look before tucking his head against my hip.

I have a cat.

The thought struck me so suddenly that I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Tiffany at the rescue program.

Me: Hey, you told me to reach out if I had any questions. What do I need to do to officially adopt him? Growly. By the way, I’m keeping the name. It fits. His purr sounds like a mini growl. Kind of warm and fuzzy, though.

I set my phone down, only for it to immediately start vibrating with an incoming call. I glanced at the screen and slid my thumb across it, answering on speaker. “Well, hey, Tiffany.”

She squealed. “Oh my God, I’m so excited! How’s Growly?”

I laughed. “He’s doing great. I love him. He’s the perfect cat for recovery when you can’t walk very well. We’re just chilling together.”

“I am so glad,” she said. “Now let’s get serious. Of course you can adopt him, but I have to ask if you’re staying in town.”

I took a slow breath, considering my answer. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this quiet until I finalize my plans,” I said carefully. “But I’m going to stay here. Yes.”

She squealed again, and I was almost certain I heard clapping. “Are you clapping your hands?”

“Yes,” she said without apology. “Willow Brook is an amazing place, and so is Alaska. I just had a feeling about you when Josie reached out. Elderly cats are the hardest for us to adopt out.”

“Do you know how old he is?” I asked, suddenly anxious.

“Well, the vet guessed he’s about seven or eight, so he’s not actually old. He just looks rough around the edges because he’s lived a rough life.”

I smiled down at Growly. “He deserves nothing but comfort. He has the run of the place,” I told her. “He goes upstairs sometimes, like he’s checking on things, then comes right back. He sleeps in bed with me and sleeps on the couch during the day. No accidents. Perfectly litter box trained. I am a little worried I might overfeed him, though.”

“Well,” she added quickly, “Josie got you one of those weight-checking litter boxes. You can track his weight, or frankly, you can just let him get fat and happy.”

I snorted. “I didn’t even know it weighed him.”

“Yep. There’s an app for it.”

“There is an app for my cat’s bathroom habits?”

She laughed. “There’s a QR code on the side. Scan it, set it up, and text me his weight once it’s working.”

“That way you’ll know if he’s getting fat and happy,” I teased. “Tanner brought me those squeezy treats,” I added casually.

The pause that followed was loaded. “Tanner brought you some?” Tiffany’s tone shot up several octaves.