Page 6 of The One You Want

God damn it. I had forgotten about thecats.

The three of them appeared at the same time, glaring at me from under the TV console. Some might say that cats don’t possess the human trait of glaring, but those people would be wrong. These cats have pure ice running through their veins. Their glare could terrify anyman.

“What can I do for you lovely kitties this afternoon?” I asked. Maybe if I appeased them, they’d give me a break for once. No such luck. They remained crouched there, glaring, all the judgment in the world in theireyes.

“Listen,” I attempted. “Can’t we just try to ignore each other? I’ll fill up your food bowl and you guys can have free run of the guest room.” In all honesty, the guest room had long ago become the cat’s room. I’d filled it with every temptation imaginable, all in a desperate attempt to buy theiraffection.

After spending hundreds of dollars on cat toys, cat beds, scratching posts, and something called a Kitty Condo, I had realized that affection was far too much to ask for. At this point, I would settle for convincing them not to murder me in mysleep.

And the only reason I had these stupid cats was because Robin had pressed me into fostering when the shelter got full. I would have turned her down if Dr. Miller hadn’t been in the room at the time. The first one, a sleek black cat named Elmer, had seemed cute enough at the time, and the grateful look on Dr. Miller’s face when I agreed had made it seem worthit.

That had been my first mistake. I think Elmer must have sensed my fear. For all of my volunteering hours at the shelter, I wassonot an animal person. I never had been. And when I somehow—I still don’t understand exactlyhow—had gotten myself roped into taking in two more fosters, I’m pretty sure Elmer must have filled them in on my total lack of authority in my ownhome.

The three of them now had total run of the place. They decided when we woke up, when we ate, when we went to bed. Any time I tried to rebel against their rule, they went berserk. I tried to stay up watching TV after they were ready for bed? Cue three cats in my room, knocking all the shoes from my closet shelves. I was ten minutes late getting their breakfast out? Say goodbye to anything and everything that had been on the kitchencounters.

One of them—a longhaired tabby named Mittens—had somehow learned how to open my pantry door. They never got into any of the food. They just knocked it around until I came to do theirbidding.

They were little tyrants, is what they were. And I was stuck withthem.

I’d bugged Robin over and over again about finding them permanent homes, as she’d promised to do when I took them in. But she always brushed me off, usually with a little roll of her eyes, likeIwas being the unreasonable one. I had given up pressing, resigned to my future as the minion of three felinedictators.

Tonight though, it all felt like too much to handle. I just wanted to sit here and mope and not worry about whether or not three cats were going to destroy my craftroom.

“Full disclosure,” I said, spreading my hands wide. “I had a shitty day. I promise you can boss me around all you want in an hour. But will you please, for the love of all that is holy, let me wallow untilthen?”

They remained perfectly still, watching me. Plotting. I turned my attention to Lady, the sole female in their little gang. The orange tabby was the last to come into our dysfunctional family but she had become the definite ringleader. “I walked in on the guy I love half-naked and about to go to pound town with another woman. I embarrassed myself and spilled perfectly good cookies. Not to mention I cut my arm up and probably need stitches. Can you please, please muster up some female solidarity and give me abreak?”

She stared at me, her yellow-green kitty eyes sharp and appraising. And then, to my shock, she slipped out from under the console and, with a flick of her tail, walked straight into their bedroom. The other’s remained still for a long moment, watching her, until she let out a firm little meow and they both jumped up, followingher.

“Holy shit,” I muttered. “That actually worked.” Maybe Lady had some experience with the whole heartbreak thing, some hotshot tomcat that had done herwrong.

Not eager to let this rare opportunity go, I quickly queued up an episode of Great British Bakeoff, my favorite show of all time, and settled deeper into the cushions. GBBO was the perfect show for just about any occasion. Feeling happy? Celebrate with these delightful, polite people making yummy things. Feeling stressed? Let these delightful, polite people making yummy things soothe you. At this point I had watched every episode so many times that I basically had it memorized, making it the perfect show to zone outto.

I closed my eyes, letting the embarrassment of the day wash over me. Of course it had worked out the way it did. I never got lucky when it came to guys. I also had no freaking idea what I was doing. So when Dr. Miller was nice to me, when he made little jokes about the litter boxes or asked about my weekend, I assumed he was showinginterest.

Twenty-eight years old and can’t even tell the difference between polite professional courtesy and flirting,I thought tomyself.

It hurt, seeing him with her. How many times had I daydreamed about his hands on me? His lips kissing mine? Seeing, with my own two eyes, that he wanted someone else was physically painful, an ache I could feel deep in mybelly.

It had also sucked that the woman he chose was Robin. She had never been nice to me. It wasn’t just the pushing of the foster cats. It was the patronizing way she talked to me, every single time we interacted. She saw me as a pathetic kid, a pushover. She didn’t respectme.

Hell, maybe she even had something against my grandparents, like half the people on this island did. Regardless, watching the realization dawn in her eyes, knowing that she knew exactly how pathetic I had been that afternoon, sucked. Hardcoresucked.

But somehow, that wasn’t the worst of it. Not the heartbreak or the embarrassment. No, the worst part was the realization that I was so very out of step with the world around me. All over this island there were people who took chances. People who took risks to go after what they wanted. People who let go and enjoyed the moment. People who fell inlove.

And, yes, people who hooked up in totally inappropriate places. Maybe because they were in love or maybe because they were overcome with undeniable passion. Or maybe for no other reason than that they were alive and taking a risk reminded them ofthat.

I had tried to be like those people today. Hell, I had been trying all summer. I thought back to those awful dates, how cringey and embarrassing they had been. The guy who faked an emergency phone call and left in the middle of dinner when I shamefacedly admitted I didn’t exactly have a career. Or the time I spilled not one but two beers on my date. I didn’t go home after those attempts feeling empowered or brave. I went home feeling defeated andembarrassed.

Just how I felt after my disaster of a makeover. Just how I felt the night of the island talent show, when I’d literally fallen flat on my face during the number for my dance class. Not a gentle fall, either. Oh, no. So much blood had poured out of my nose that it splattered onto the patent leather shoes of my partner—who happened to be themayor.

All of these risks I had tried to take, trying to make myself better, more interesting, more confident—and what did I have to show for it? Three cats who hated me and an empty, bland apartment. Basically exactly what I had when Istarted.

It was difficult, right then, to see what the pointwas.

Lady really must have been feeling magnanimous, because she allowed me three full episodes and an entire pint of Haagen-Daz before she came out to demand my servitude. She appeared in the doorway, eyes locked on mine, message clear: timesup.

“Okay,” I told her. “You can eatnow.”