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Shit.
I had no response to that.
She cackled, walking out of the dining room, and I turned to Max.
“I lost that one, didn’t I?” I said with a grimace.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“She’s good.”
“Yes,” he repeated. “In future, smile and nod.”
“She’s not going to let that go now, is she?”
He shook his head slowly, still scratching the top of Sir Winston Purrchill the Traitor’s head. “No. She’s not. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
Another awkward grimace from me. It was really all I had. “Just tell her what I did. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Which part? The part about us being friends or it not being any deeper than friendship?”
“Both are true.” I hesitated.I am a big, fat, lying liar.“Right?”
He inclined his head, not really answering at all.
“Hey, if you don’t want to be friends, then that’s fine. I will take my cat and go and—”
“Whoa, whoa. Don’t be drastic with the taking of the cat.” He circled his arms around Winston in a blockade.
I crossed my arms over my chest and sat back in my chair. “See? You love that cat. It’s ridiculous. You couldn’t stand him six weeks ago.”
“That’s when I thought he was going to eat my birds. Now I know it’s only my mice and rats, he’s my best mate.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that. I think you like him more than you like me.”
“It’s best I don’t respond to that.” He grinned, and my silly little belly did a silly little flip.
“Wow. Now I’m offended.”
“Look at him.” Max scratched under Winston’s chin with one finger, and my cat trilled happily, leaning into him. “How can you not love him?”
“I do love him. He’smycat. You’re monopolising him.”
“He jumped on my lap. Was I supposed to ignore him?”
“Well, no, but if you carry on, he’s not going to want to come home with me.”
“I’d be okay with that.”
“I wouldn’t!” I huffed, glaring at him. “You can’t just steal my cat.”
“You threatened to sell him to me earlier.” Max looked down, grinning at Winston, who was more than happy to continue accepting all the loving from him. “I’m not stealing him. It’s not my fault if he loves me.”
“Actually, it is. He doesn’t like anyone. You’ve done something to make him like you, and I’m not okay with it.”
“Your cat has dreadful taste,” Esme said, walking back into the dining room with the apple pie in her hands. “Look at him over there. Doesn’t he have mice to be catching?”
“Probably, but he won’t go anywhere while he’s getting love like that. He’s a little whore,” I said.
