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The what?“What tree?”
“The cat tree,” he explained, squinting at his phone again. “It’s a gift for a, uh—a Mr. Maguire? A Mr. Toebeans Maguire, it says here.”
You have got to be kidding me.“May I see the order, please?”
It wasn’t like I could text Adrien to check. “Why would you need to be able to get in touch with me?”he’d said.
The man shrugged and gave me his phone.
Sure enough, the order form had Adrien listed as the buyer, and Toebeans as the gift recipient. The price had been redacted, but there was a note on there letting the men know that Toebeans was wary of strangers, and to “please respect his space if he asks for it.”
The men were also instructed to cease construction if the cat started to show signs of stress in response to the activity.
I hated it. All of it.
I hated that he’d thought to do this. I hated the stupid note. I hated how deceptively considerate it made him sound. I hated how much Jamie was going to swoon over the whole thing. And Ireallyfucking hated the stuttered flips my stomach was currently doing.
They were entirely uncalled for.
I let the men into the apartment, put Toebeans in my room, and went straight for the wine. Packing could wait.
The men worked for well over three hours, drilling and hammering and measuring, and I watched as the “tree” expanded until it had taken over an entire wall of the living room, floor-to-ceiling.
It was freakin’ huge and… kind of incredible, actually. There were tubes, ropes, rings, and bridges, not to mention multiple hammocks (just in case one wasn’t enough).
There was also a throne for Toebeans to perch himself on beside the window. He went straight for it the second I let him out of my room, meowing and chirping his approval.
He loved it.
Meanwhile, I’d (accidentally) finished the first bottle of wine while the guys worked, and was (accidentally) opening the second when Jamie got home.
“What… the…” She dropped her bag when she caught sight of the monstrosity, her eyes flaring with what could only be fear. I mean… obsessed with her much?
“What’s all this?” she asked, gaping at the wall. Could she also see how much it was spinning? Or was that just the alcohol?
“Your future husband,” I explained, pouring myself another generous glass of wine. And just like that, half the new bottle had vanished. Accidentally. “A courtship offering. He’s trying to seduce you by spoiling your fat cat.”
“Hey!”
Toebeans meowed from his high throne, offended.
“He said it, not me.” I put my hands up, momentarily forgetting about the wine. Half the glass spilled onto my sweater. “Whoops.”
Jamie frowned, appropriately concerned by Adrien’s weird and creepy gesture. “Are you drunk?”
“No,” I said, holding up my wet glass. “More wine?”
She bit down on her bottom lip, doing a really good job of making her weirded-out grimace look like a suppressed smile. She should have been an actor. “I can’t believe he did this,” she sighed.
I rolled my eyes. “I know. Somebody needs to let that man know he’s doing too much.” And I’d happily be that person. “You jus’ say the words, Jams, and I’ll march right up to his apartment and tell his face how weird and creepy you think it is. I know which unit he lives in now. Long story. Short letter, but long story.”
“You’re super drunk, and we both know he has an exceptionally lovely face. Ruggedly handsome with the cutest dimples you’ve ever seen.”
“I disrespectfully disagree.”
“Your nose just flared.”
Whatever. I took another large sip of dizzying grape juice. Maybe with enough alcohol in my system I could staple my nostril shut and not even feel it. I technically only needed one to breathe.
