Page 37 of Hot Under the Collar

He was wiping down the counter where she’d prepared their popcorn last night. He glanced over his shoulder and flashed his dimples. It surprised her how seamlessly he moved around her kitchen now, like he belonged, like he’d always lived there. He brushed her shoulder as he handed her a fresh mug with cream lining the bottom, and Lynne felt her pulse kick up. “I told Minka to hold the cream so you could add yours whenever you woke up. Is the omelet good?”

“Perfect. Like it just got dropped off at our corner booth.”

Our. Us. We. Those were words Lynne hadn’t used in a long time with someone, especially not Leo. But they were starting to grow on her.

Fred wove around each of their ankles and purred. “You know, he still hasn’t demanded to go out since we got here.”

“It’s probably Mama and the kittens. He’s being protective.”

“I think he might like your place better than mine. Right, Fred?”

“Don’t go getting any ideas, Fred.” But Lynne stopped herself there. She didn’t know why she’d blurted that, like she was ready to kick them out when it was the farthest thing from her mind. She liked him here. Them here. So she softened her voice. “Rent’s due here, too, buddy. Just like at Dad’s.”

“Yeah, Fred. Purrs don’t count as payment at Lynne’s.”

Fred just circled and head-butted their shins like they’d told him second breakfast was on its way.

“Let’s do another video of the litter when we’re done here,” Lynne suggested. “Before the day gets away from us both. I’ll post it. Just want to start planting the seed about adoption, now that we’re all back on track.”

Leo agreed and went to freshen up after his last sip of coffee, only to come back out looking as effortlessly hot as he always did. So annoying.

Lynne met him in the guest bedroom, where he was waiting with the scale, when she was done. “Let’s show them how to weigh the kittens,” he suggested.

They went from wiggliest to calmest, making video snippets of each. Leo held the scale and Lynne narrated as they jotted down numbers on a notepad near the dresser, just as Nina had taught them. But they had to retake Maple and Harvest’s clips because they were laughing too hard. Maple would growl like a tiny, furry tiger at the camera lens every time they picked her up. Harvest farted—loudly—more than once.

Then just as Lynne posted the tutorial to O’Donnell’s, Leo’s expression changed. She rested her head on his shoulder as he replayed their clip.

“What’s up?” she asked.

He stood and walked back over to the notepad and examined it. “Did you weigh them last night before bed?”

Lynne thought. “Shit. No. Did you?”

Leo shook his head. “No. I guess we might’ve enjoyed our first night off of feeding a little too much. Look.” Lynne stood and Leo pointed to the line with all of Twig’s numbers. “Twig hasn’t gained any weight. In fact, he’s lost some.” He was right. Twig was down almost two grams.

“The one before, that’s my handwriting. Maybe I misread his last weigh-in?”

“I doubt it. He’s going up, up, up, even if it’s just a little compared to the rest. But not in the last 24 hours. And, here.”

He lifted his phone and paused their video so Lynne could see what he was seeing. But she didn’t have to watch. The comments were already rolling in.

Omg that little one in the corner looks so sleepy.

Is the fifth baby okay?

That smallest—Twig?—seems off to the side. I used to foster. Keep an eye on that.

“Let me try something,” Lynne offered.

She picked up the sleepy, fuzzy brown and white runt and placed him near Mama’s belly. Mama’s gaze flitted between the two of them and Twig as he latched on weakly then fell asleep mid-feed. Mama nudged at his forehead instead of protectively curling him into her like she did with the others.

Lynne picked him up. His body didn’t feel cold. But it felt cooler than the others. He stretched and settled into her palm.

Her eyes started welling up, her thoughts snowballing. It felt as if everyone could see how inept she was at this. Every commenter. Every stranger. Everyone but her.

“I should’ve weighed him last night,” she whispered. “I should’ve paid more attention.”

“It’s not your fault, Lynne. He was fine before we watched TV. I checked.”