“You dream about me holding Ivy’s hand and a catcurling up on the chair?” Sebastian asks as he pours himself a cup, like this is all perfectly normal. He takes a drink—and immediately makes a disgusted face.
I blink. I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t spit it out like Drew.
I head toward the coffee machine, already knowing I’m not drinking Drew’s burnt, bitter juice.
“Dump that in the sink,” I say gently. “I’m taking over.”
Relief crosses Sebastian’s face so fast I almost laugh. I swear, he looks like I just offered him a miracle.
He dumps the coffee, then turns to me. His arms wrap around me, warm and solid, and I melt into him without hesitation. It’s the easiest thing in the world—being held like this, being wanted like this.
When he releases me, I smile up at him, then turn toward the coffee pot.
Behind us, Mr. Pickles yawns.
And I think this might be my favorite morning ever.
That is, until Drew reaches for his coffee mug and tips it instead.
Coffee spills everywhere. Counter. Floor. His hand.
He screams.
Like full-volume, horror-movie-final-girl scream.
The sound sends Mr. Pickles into immediate panic. He launches himself off the chair, claws scrabbling wildly, landing on the floor with a soft thud—and then everything gets worse.
Drew is still yelling. Paper towels are flying. The mug tips again.
Mr. Pickles bolts.
He hits the counter, skids straight through spilled coffee, and launches himself at the nearest solid object.
Unfortunately, that object is Drew.
“I’VE BEEN ATTACKED,” Drew screeches as claws catch his shirt. “I JUST GOT RABIES!”
He slips on the spilled coffee—and goes down hard.
The mug shatters on the floor.
Mr. Pickles decides he’s had enough of this household and abandons Drew entirely, sprinting straight into Sebastian’s arms.
Sebastian scoops him up instantly, murmuring soft nonsense and rubbing his ears like this is a completely reasonable outcome.
The kitchen is destroyed.
Drew is on the floor.
The cat is being comforted.
I’m gripping the counter, laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
“This isn’t funny, Ivy,” Drew snaps. “That cat looks like he crawled out of a pet cemetery. I’m probably going to die.”
Sebastian stiffens. He covers Mr. Pickles’ ears. “My cat did not crawl out of a cemetery,” he says through gritted teeth.
Drew stares at him like he’s lost his mind.
