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Now that I’d told the inanimate object off—undoubtedly a new low for me—I sat down in my chair and turned on my computer, getting back to work.
Chapter Eight
Elliot
Lucarolledintothegym thirty minutes after Weston and me, but that wasn’t anything new. Even though he was a married man and had recently taken over as CEO of his family’s motorcycle company, Rossi Motors, he’d always have a healthy dose of carefree partier as part of his personality, and I didn’t mind at all.
It was why our three-way friendship functioned so well. Luca balanced us out. Weston and I had a tendency to get lost in our work, and we both veered to the side of way too fucking serious. Then again, neither of us had grown up in stable environments, and we’d had to make our own way. When Luca had entered the picture in college, he’d smacked off our blinders, so we finally saw the world around us. It wasn’t all books and studying.
Luca Rossi was fucking fun. All suave looks and smooth moves, he could talk his way in and out of anything. We’d had some adventures back then, forging a bond that still held strong, though we’d all grown up in the years since.
It was why, despite our busy lives and multitude of responsibilities, we met at a private gym several times a week before work.
Luca hopped on the treadmill beside Weston, who’d been updating me on the efforts to restructure the corporate level of his outdoor clothing company, Andes.
“Welcome, Rossi,” Weston intoned.
Luca flashed a not-guilty grin. “Why thank you.”
“Nice of you to join us.” I was on Weston’s other side, powering through my third mile.
“I have a valid excuse for running late today.”
I eyed Luca’s reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room. “This should be good. Don’t leave us in suspense.”
Luca pressed some buttons on his treadmill, upping his pace. “Saoirse let Clementine into our room last night.”
Weston’s brow lowered as he jogged at an even pace. “Wait. Does the cat watch you”—he lowered his voice, though there were only a few people around—“fuck? I don’t think I could perform—”
My hand shot up. “If you care for me in any way, don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to know a single detail about your performance when it involves my sister unless it’s Shakespeare. And even then, I might not want to know.”
Weston chuckled. “Noted. All I’ll say is I wouldn’t let a cat in my bedroom.”
Luca shrugged easily. “We let her in…after. And to be quite frank, Clementine doesn’t give a shit what we’re doing. She gets pissed if the bed jostles too much, but all she does is meow her opinion of us and go to her cat bed in the corner.”
“I’m not a cat person,” I said.
Luca chuckled. “No shit. I’m not sure you could keep a small mammal alive if you tried.”
“I don’t plan on trying, so there will be no testing that theory.”
Weston slapped Luca’s bicep with the back of his hand. “None of what you just said explains why you were running late this morning.”
“I was getting to that.” Luca hit Weston in retaliation. “I woke up to my cat sitting on my chest, staring at me.”
Chills ran through me. “Yeah, I’mreallynot a cat person.”
Luca and Saoirse’s cat was fine. Mildly cute even. But she just…walked all over their apartment, demanded attention, and the two of them got off on watching her sleep in a sling attached to their window. I’d stopped by their place recently, and they’d spent most of the visit staring at the damn cat, whose tail occasionally twitched. That was it. She didn’t even chase a laser beam or anything mildly impressive.
I didn’t get it, but Luca and Saoirse were thrilled by their strange life with their orange cat, so I let them have it. Just because I didn’t understand didn’t mean I wasn’t fiercely enjoying their happiness.
“Anyway,” Luca went on, “Clem started making biscuits on my face.”
“Speak people talk, Rossi,” Weston admonished. “No one knows what you’re saying.”
“I don’t know, Saoirse says it’s a thing. She informed me the internet calls it making biscuits when cats knead like they would on their mom to get milk,” Luca explained.
“So, your cat was kneading your face, trying to milk you?” I asked.
