Chapter 16
Cara
Iwoke up and lay there for a full minute pretending I was calm. The shop was closed today, but unlike every other week on my day off, I did not sleep in.
Wentworth was on my chest, purring like a small industrial appliance, his front paws tucked neatly under his chin. Darcy was a black curl at the foot of the bed with one eye cracked open, monitoring me. Knightley was somewhere in the apartment being Knightley—probably perched on the windowsill in the living room watching the street come awake, the way he always did when he thought I was still asleep.
I stared at the ceiling. I had not had a man in this apartment for a length of time I was not prepared to calculate. Not a date. Not a friend. Except for Spencer who had helped me wrestle a bookshelf up the back stairs a couple of months ago, and he absolutely did not count, partly because he was Lucy’s boyfriend and partly because halfway up the second flight, he’d said something so appalling about a customer at the hardware store that I’d laughed until I cried and then nearly dropped my side of the bookshelf on my foot.
Jasper was not Spencer. Jasper was something inexplicably awesome.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and sat up. Wentworth made an offended sound and slid down into my lap, where he immediately went back to sleep with the expression of a creature who had been deeply wronged.
“You’re going to have to move,” I told him. “I have to make coffee.”
He did not move.
I picked him up anyway and set him down on the warm patch I’d left behind on the pillow. He forgave me within about four seconds, which was generous of him.
By the time I’d made a pot of coffee and poured my first cup, I had a mental list that wasn’t working, so I got out an actual piece of paper and made a real one.Clean kitchen. Vacuum. Shortbread. Soup. Sandwiches. Shower. Clothes.I stared at the list.Clotheswere a whole subcategory unto themselves, and I was not ready to face them before seven in the morning.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I knew who it was before I looked. Last night in a fit of nerves, I’d reached out to the Darlington Sister
LUCY: Today’s the day.
LUCY: THE DAY.
LUCY: I’m going to need a full report.
I took a long sip of coffee and typed back with one hand.
Me: There is no report.
LUCY: There will be.
LUCY: Also, good morning I love you.
Me: Good morning. I love you too. There is still no report.
Piper joined the group text a minute later, practical as ever.
PIPER: Are you making something you’ve made before?
Me: Yes. Tomato soup and grilled cheese.
PIPER: Good choice. Do you have enough napkins?
Me: I have napkins, Piper.
PIPER: Cloth ones?
I looked at my drawer of mismatched dish towels and one very battered set of cloth napkins I’d bought at a yard sale in 2019.
Me: …Sort of.
PIPER: Do you need me to run some over?
Me: No, I’ve got it, I promise.
