“Maria—” Tuck begins, but I cut him off with a small shake of my head, offering him the easy way out.
“What if he has a friend over, and wants privacy?” I point out lightly, the words casual, even though the idea of him with someone else squeezes the air from my lungs. But I have to give Tuck a way out. A way to say no without anyone looking bad.
Because I know what he is and what he isn’t, and what he isn’t is father material. Which means he’s probably not a cat guy, either. Caring for something else—something small, dependent, completely vulnerable—doesn’t fit into his life. It’s not cruelty. It’s reality.
And yet, watching him cradle that kitten like it might break if he moved too fast… part of me wonders if there’s more in him than he lets anyone see.
As Tuck’s eyes remain locked on mine, I’m about to continue my protest, but my words die a slow death when he says, “I’ll do it.”
5
Tuck
“I’ll do it.”
Did those words really just leave my lips?
Silence hits for half a beat. Then Josh explodes. He actually jumps. Both feet off the ground. Like I just told him Christmas came early and brought a Stanley Cup with it. Grant claps me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth, and Lucas lets out a victorious whoop.
So yeah.
I must have said them.
I must also be having some kind of neurological episode because what the hell am I doing?
“Tuck, you’re the best,” Josh beams, already reaching for the kitten. “What should we call him?”
I shake my head, incredulous, and murmur, “How about Marbles? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve lost mine.”
Lucas bursts out laughing. “Marbles. I like it. If he ever gets loose, Tuck, you can run around the neighborhood screaming, ‘help, I lost my marbles.’”
Everyone laughs.
Everyone except Maria.
She’s not laughing.
She’s looking at me like I just stepped off a ledge.
“Tuck,” she says quietly, and her voice cuts through the chaos like a blade through tape. “What are you doing?”
Good question.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Because the truth, I have no idea.
Grant jumps in before I can self-destruct. “He’s making your boys happy,” he says easily. “And helping Elena and me out.”
Elena sneezes again, eyes watery, nose pink as she presses a tissue to her face. “Are you really going to call him Marbles?” she asks between sniffles.
“I’m not sure that’s my call,” I mutter. “Not my cat.”
Maybe this is a mistake. But then I see Josh is cradling the kitten like it’s treasure, like it’s something precious and breakable and his. My heart does this stupid, inconvenient flip when he grins down at the little furball.
“Do you know anything about taking care of a cat?” I ask the boys, because I definitely do not.
Lucas waves his phone. “That’s what Google is for.”
Grant ticks things off on his fingers. “Food. Water. Litter box. Toys. Scratching post. Snuggles.”
