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“My home is your home,” he responds, pulling away. “But your apartment for now, I suppose.”
“Good. Sean moved out last week, so Angus is left to his own devices. Fuck knows how many birds and mice are in my apartment right now.” My head pounds at the thought.
“And you want that animal to live with us?”
“That animal is my fur-baby.”
“Funny. He’s always been a pain in your arse.”
“True, but you pushed him right out of that spot. It’s all yours, honey.”
He shoots me a smile and laughs. “It’s always good to know our feelings are entirely mutual.”
“You know those heels I have, yes? I can be a physical pain the ass as well as a literal one.”
“The literal pain is more than enough to cope with, thank you very much.” He parks outside my apartment and we get out.
I reach out and take his hand in mine. A calming feeling washes over me as our fingers entwine and his thumb rubs the back of my hand. The elevator doors close in front of us, and I curl my body into his, just needing to be held by him.
It comes fleetingly—the urge to touch him, to have him touch me, to have that connection. It’s always strong and irresistible, and as he slides his hands down to my ass and kisses my neck, I’m reminded that we’re still very much governed by our addictions.
He still craves my body, and in turn, I still crave his heart.
Our love just has a way of pushing it to the side, smothering it a little. I think more of how I love him than how I’m addicted to him… And maybe that’s the key.
Maybe that’s how we’ll make it work.
Perhaps our love and our addictions are intertwining into an intricate knot that makes total sense.
I reluctantly step from Tyler’s hold and put my key in the door. And pause.
“I hear flapping.”
“Are you serious?” Tyler asks, knocking my hand away and opening the door. “Shit!” he cries, ducking when a bird comes flying clumsily through it. I shriek, thankful that no one has taken Sean’s old apartment yet.
Angus comes flying out, hissing at the bird.
“Oh no you don’t!” I scoop him up and throw him back into my apartment. I tug Tyler inside and slam the door. “Before the thing gets back in.”
“So you’re just going to leave it there flying around the hallway?”
“Pretty much.” I dump my purse, put a can of food in Angus’s bowl, and head into my room to change. Tyler watches me as I go and, the second I turn into my room, laughs at me.
Nice of him to try and hide it.
He’s an awful actor.
Cupboards open and close and pans clang from the kitchen. I pull some sweatpants and a tank top on before I pad my way back out. Tyler already has some water boiling on the stove when I turn on the DVD player and lie back on the sofa. Angus finishes his food and strolls across the apartment to jump onto my legs. He circles a few times and I wince at his claws digging into my thighs.
He lies down, his head on my stomach, and I smile.
“So he brings a bird home and is now keeping the baby warm. Is that like an offering to it or something?”
I meet Tyler’s eyes, my smile still in place. “The bird is for me. He thinks I’m weak, and given that he had no food, he assumed I needed help to feed him,” I explain, scratching my cat’s head. “And cats can sense babies. I was watching Teen Mom and one of the girls had a cat—it was always sleeping on her stomach.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is your knowledge of pregnancy all courtesy of Teen Mom?”
“No. It makes you pee a lot, makes you sick, and makes your boobs really tender. I figured those out for myself.”
