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Miles settles a hand on my shoulder. I stare at his chest. If I look at his handsome face, there’s a chance I’ll get emotional. It’s been like that recently. Spontaneous tears. Questioning my purpose.
“Kitty, look at me.”
I drag my reluctant gaze to his empathetic one.
His expression is soft, but he also looks determined. “I know this has been really hard on you, and that you’re struggling to figure things out, but this”—he motions to the car—“is part of who you are. It makes you distinctly you. And you are loved by a lot of people. Sometimes when we fall, we need to take the hand that’s been offered to us, get back on our feet, dust ourselves off, and keep going.”
I sigh. “I don’t want my car to get vandalized again.”
“I know. It won’t.”
Since the park incident, I’ve been borrowing my sister’s car a lot. And Miles has been good about lending me his. We’re just driving to his place, and after the side of my car was spray painted, they’ve increased the underground parking security. His apartment had footage of the person who did it, but they were wearing a ski mask and nondescript all-black clothes.
“I’ll grab my keys.”
“That’s my girl.” He dips down and presses his lips to mine.
Instead of heading for the highway, Miles goes in the opposite direction, toward downtown.
“Where are we going?”
“I need to make one stop,” Miles informs me.
“What? Why?” I’m suddenly on high alert. Stops were not on the menu. It’s supposed to be a straight shot from my mom’s house to his apartment.
The only places I’ve gone to willingly lately have been Kat’s Cat Café and the grocery store. And only when it’s necessary and I have access to my sister’s car. I also often sneak in the back door, so I don’t have to face anyone but Kat. And I’ve taken to shopping at the grocery store on the edge of town, where fewer people will recognize me and ask me questions.
“It won’t take long,” Miles reassures me.
I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s being . . . sketchy, maybe? He’s more fidgety than usual, but it’s possible my anxiety is rubbing off on him.
A few minutes later Miles parks across the street from Kat’s.
“Why are we here?”
“I have to pick something up.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to pick whatever it is up? I have a key and an office here.”
“I knew you weren’t going to have time to stop here earlier because your schedule was full.”
He’s not wrong, and like all my other clients, he has access to my daily and weekly calendar. Despite the horrible things people are saying about me, most of my clients have been supportive. Only a few of the newer ones jumped ship.
“I promise it’ll be quick, and there are multiple orgasms waiting for you at my place.”
“Okay.” I sigh, wishing the promise of multiples could alleviate my anxiety. I expect the people passing us on the street to yell mean things when I exit the vehicle. No one does, but a couple walking their dog give me a dirty look and crosses to the other side of the street.
“Just ignore the assholes.” Miles settles his palm against my lower back and guides me toward the front door. As we approach the café a woman stops me. I brace for more hate, but she tells me she doesn’t believe what everyone is saying, and she hopes I can get this mess cleared up soon. Then she hugs me, and I almost burst into tears.
“See? You’ve got people on your side.”
“I just miss the days when I had more people on my side than not,” I murmur, swallowing down the emotions.
It’s hard not to let the hurtfulness seep in and taint the good parts. When we reach the entrance, I pull on the door, but the closed sign is hanging in the window. “That’s weird. It’s usually open until nine. Let me get my key.”
Miles knocks on the glass door while I rummage around in my purse.
“Where the heck is it? I was holding my keys a second ago.” I peer inside. People are moving around. “Maybe they had a bathroom accident or something.” It’s happened before. Usually it only takes a few minutes to clean up.
Merlin, one of the baristas, opens the door for us. “Oh great! You’re here. Perfect! Come on in.” He opens the door so Miles and I can squeeze through, then locks it again.
“What’s going on?” I mutter. This seems like we’re getting ready for an illegal cat fight or something.
I move to the right so I’m standing beside Miles instead of behind him. I suck in a shocked breath. When I was here earlier in the week everything was normal. But today the tables have been moved around so the center of the café is open. And in their place is a single table with two plush chairs. Surrounding those chairs are lights, microphones, and a video camera.
