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“Boo, I guess I’ll just have to play this game of strip Catan by myself,” I joke, tapping my pen on the kitchen island.
After our role-play, the fun we have had together has exceeded my untamed imaginations.
Matthew has been the most patient, giving, and caring lover. There are nights when he just kisses me for hours. On other occasions, we play silly games or re-create more scenes from my favorite books.
The Catan game arrived earlier this morning, and we were saving it for a special occasion. The first player to ten victory points gets to pick out our next costumes for another salacious act in the bedroom.
“Don’t worry, darling; I’ll give you all my wood when I get home.” He laughs, and the sound feels as good as one of his hugs. “Though Aaron’s game doesn’t end until nine. Who decided to close out a hockey match for six-year-olds that late?”
“People say go big or go home, but honestly, I don’t know why the latter is a bad thing. I’d love to spend all night in the house with you.” Bear brushes up against my ankles, purring loudly. I’ve never spent so much time alone with him. Nerves drum in my veins. He’s my responsibility tonight.It can’t be that hard, right?“Okay, well, Bear and I will be waiting for you.”
“Thanks again for watching him; I hope he doesn’t give you too much trouble,” he says. “How’s property hunting going? Seen anything new?”
A sprawl of business plan drafts lie before me. They’re in disarray beside the platters of food I’ve been taste-testing for the Winter Ball. All the catering options haven’t been up to par.
“The buildings that are big enough need a ton of repairs, and the others are out of my price range.” I tap my pen more harshly against the island. “So, I guess I’m still looking.”
I’ve never had to think before swiping my credit card, but now I’m counting every dollar. Without my trust, it may be hard to start The Griffin. I’ll have to sacrifice clothes, books, shoes, and my aesthetician. I gulp.
“New listings go up every day; don’t be discouraged,” Matthew assures me.
“Yeah. Scrolling has been a helpful distraction from the fact that we still don’t have a caterer,” I sigh, looking at the assortment of desserts staring at me. They’re pretty and sweet. However, knowing my mother, if they aren’t pavlova, mille crepe cakes, or something equally decadent, she’ll consider the task a failure.
“We’ll just have to serve hundreds of bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwiches.” Matthew chuckles over the phone. “Hope you’ve been practicing.”
I love that he tries to lighten the mood anytime a situation gets overwhelming for me.
“Could you imagine everyone in their bespoke Michael Andrews suits and Elie Saab gowns eating my greasy food?” My laughter turns into snorts. “I’m going to leave the cooking to the professionals.”
“We’ll figure it out together.”
Silence fills the line. Would a normal couple typically sayI love youbefore hanging up? Is it too soon?
“I’ll let you go,” I whisper.
“Okay, see you soon.” Matthew hangs up the call.
“Beary.” I look down at the vibrating bundle of brown fur at my feet. “How do you feel about pizza?” If I eat one more bite of cake, I may actually throw up.
He blinks at me, then lets out a penetrating meow, which I’m pretty sure means,Yes please.But even though I’ve been around him for almost a month, I’m not quite fluent in cat yet.
“Okay, buddy. I’m going to throw on some slippers, then I’ll put in a delivery order for an extra cheesy pie, and we can watch a movie in bed. How does that sound?”
Wow, I must be tired if I’m actually speaking to a cat.
A few minutes later, I return to the kitchen, wrapped in my Agnona cashmere sweater and my shearling slingbacks.
Oh no.
To my horror, Bear is on the kitchen island, his little furry face in a jar of caviar. Frosting is caught in his paws. The remnants of a crab puff are stuck to the tip of his tail.
No, no, no.My blood sloshes in my veins, my heart pounding louder and louder.
“Bear!” I scream, running toward the counter. He doesn’t look up.Is he okay?Animals can’t eat people food. That’s like rule number one of pet care. “Bear, no; please get out of there.”
Carefully, I help dislodge his head from the jar. Caviar sticks to his whiskers. He purrs the moment his body is safely tucked into my arms.
“No, kitty. How did you even get up here?” I riffle through The Griffin’s business plans spread out on the island until I find my phone.
