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It takes him a moment to switch topic gears. “That would be great. I’m not sure whether she’ll be able to bring him with her at all. But I’d like to get her moved and settled before I tackle that problem. And then I’ll have to figure out what we’re going to do with this place.”
“It’s a lot of big decisions. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.” It seems like this place doesn’t hold the same kind of fond memories for Miles that my family home does. Which is maybe part of the reason leaving it behind isn’t something I’ve wanted to entertain much.
He smiles warmly. “You’re already doing more than enough, and making me breakfast definitely isn’t part of the Prince Francis care package.”
“Consider it a bonus service.” I wink and then wish I could take that part back. My flirt seems to be turned up to full blast around Miles.
“I was wondering if—” Miles’s phone dings, and he glances at the screen. “Oh crap. I didn’t realize what time it was.” He jams the last of his egg sandwich into his mouth and pushes back his chair.
“You need to get to work?”
He nods and raises a hand in front of his face, his words slightly garbled since he’s speaking with a mouth full of food. “I have a meeting in an hour.”
I leave the last two bites of my sandwich and follow him to the front door. His suit jacket hangs on the newel post. He shrugs into it, then slips his feet into his shoes and grabs his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Thanks again, Kitty. I uh . . . I appreciate you. Maybe I can return all the feeding favors by taking you out for dinner one of these days.” He sneezes once, and then again. “Seems like my antihistamines might be wearing off. I’ll touch base later.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
“Great. Have a good day!”
And with that he’s off.
Prince Francis comes trotting into the front foyer. He rubs himself on my leg.
“Do you think when he mentioned dinner he was asking me on a date or just trying to thank me?” Either could be possible. Or maybe I’m reading into things.
Prince Francis meows and flops over on his side, batting at something under the narrow table to my right. Whatever it is, he can’t seem to reach it, and he keeps meowing, his cries growing louder. I drop to my knees and close one eye, trying to see what it is that has him so riled. It’s a stuffed mouse toy. Possibly the one that was in Miles’s brother’s room.
As soon as I knock it out from under the table Prince Francis takes it in his mouth, meowing excitedly as he trots off to the living room, presumably to play.
With Miles gone and Prince Francis fed and cared for, it’s time to start the rest of my day.
chapter fourteen
THE UNSTUCK
Kitty
I make my morning rounds, then stop at Kat’s to work on invoices and create some content posts for Kat’s Cat Café, something I was supposed to do a few days ago, but my schedule has made that a challenge.
“How are things? You’re busier than usual these days,” Kat says as we set up a new toy for the cats to play with.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop by earlier in the week. I’ll make up for it on the weekend.”
Tux rushes over and immediately starts playing with the toy, purring happily and then rolling on his back and kicking at his face, as excited cats do. Kat takes photos while I take video footage.
“It’s okay. I just miss your face around here, that’s all.”
“We really need to plan a girls’ night catch-up.” I keep saying this and then something always seems to come up. “What about tomorrow night?”
Kat bites the corner of her lip. “I have a date.”
“Oh! Is this date number two?”
Her eyes light up. “Nope. This is three.”
“Really? What did I miss?”
“We went for coffee yesterday. Tomorrow we’re going for dinner.”
“That’s awesome. I need to hear about this. And we really need to plan something so I can get a full rundown of Friday night.” I feel bad that I haven’t been around as much as I should. Kat is one of my closest friends, and that I missed the second date excitement means I’m slacking on friend duty. I skip lunch in order to get a recap of date two with Brad, and we make a tentative plan to have lunch on the weekend.
I leave to manage my afternoon clients and pick up a few things for dinner on the way home. I find my mom in the living room, leafing through an old photo album. She usually only does this when it’s approaching a birthday. “Hey, Mom, everything okay?”
