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"Yeah."
"Good. So. You cried. You showed that you’re a sensitive person who cares about animals. I’d imagine that would appeal to an ethical taxidermist and good human. So what’s the real question, how to go from crying to fucking?"
River wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but …
"Well. Yeah."
"No problem at all: you just put it in the past and move on from here. If you’re gonna end up dating, which you clearly are, then both of you will have to get to know all of each other’s sides. And sometimes that includes going from crying to fucking. Or fighting to fucking. Or fucking to crying. Or—"
"Okay, I get it, you’re so bad at sex you make Charlie cry."
Come to think of it, maybe Rye brought out River’s snarky side too.
"I am your employer so you’re basically sexually harassing me right now."
"You should probably report me to HR so I can discipline myself."
"Noted. Seriously, though, Riv, it’s gonna be fine. You move past it and embrace it. However you feel going forward, just act on that the same way you did when you showed up at his house. I’m sorry, by the way. I hit a raccoon last year and I felt fucking awful."
"According to Cassidy, everyone’s hit something. Sucks."
"Here’s what you do. Are you ready?"
River’s hope soared. Yes! Tell me the secret!
"You just be yourself."
River groaned. "God dammit, why is everyone telling me that like it’s a thing you can just do?!"
"I know, I’m disgusted with myself. It’s the worst advice in the world and I’m so sorry to report that it’s actually true. But you can only tell it’s true after you’ve already done it. Sorry, kiddo, that’s all I got."
"Okay, fine. Thanks," River grumbled.
"What?"
"I said thanks," River said.
"No, sorry, I was talking to—."
"River, it’s Charlie."
River smiled. "Hey, Charlie."
"I was telling Rye to tell you that there’s a big snowfall coming. Do you have everything you need? We have extra everything if you don’t."
Bless Charlie, who always knew the weather and was always prepared enough for everyone.
"Thanks, Charlie. I’ll be okay. I’ve got groceries and a lot of cat food." Then, realizing how that sounded, they amended, "For the cats, I mean. Not that I would run out of food and eat cat food. You get it."
"Good. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Or if the backup generator gives you any trouble. There’s a tricky little …"
While Charlie explained the details of how to reset the generator he’d installed, River took deep breaths through their nose and tried to feel like someone who was effortlessly themself. That probably required loving yourself, though, which River struggled with sometimes—especially when the self he was trying to love did things like sob uncontrollably in a date’s arms.
"—jiggle it, okay?"
"Got it. Thanks, Charlie."
There was a pause and then Charlie cleared his throat.
"Forgive me for overhearing Rye’s end of your conversation. I don’t want to intrude, but, well. I had some trouble being, um, vulnerable. With Rye. About, erm, things."
"Sex!" Rye yelled.
"Yes, well. About things. Because I thought there were right ways to do things. Correct orders and timelines for things to happen. And Rye showed me that there aren’t. There’s only what works for the two of you." He cleared his throat. "You’re a lovely, smart, kind person and Cassidy would be privileged if he gets to know you. That’s all."
River smiled. When Charlie Matheson praised you, he meant it.
"Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate it."
A muffled shworp and then Rye’s voice calling into the phone.
"And do not use those cats as an excuse not to fuc—"
"All right, bye, River. Don’t hesitate to call if—"
"I need anything. Thanks. To both of you."
Then they hung up before Rye could give them any more advice.
River had taken Gus’ advice. They’d put together an evening of stuff that they would love to do themself, and hoped that maybe Cassidy’s presence would enhance it.
A cheese plate with honey, fig jam, pistachios, sliced pear, and buttery crackers. Their current favorite indica-dominant hybrid. Comfort TV that you could attend to or not. And cats. Always cats.
"Wow," Cassidy said when they set the tray on the front desk.
"I usually hang out in the cat room, but there isn’t a couch or anything, just some of those big pillows."
"I’m fine with the floor," Cassidy said.
His gaze roamed River’s face.
"I’m not gonna start sobbing again," they said lightly. Probably.
Cassidy looked surprised. "I wasn’t expecting you to."
Way to bring it up!
"Oh. Okay, well. Follow me."
The cat room was a large, open space with elaborate cat ramps and plastic tubes built along carpeted walls, through which the cats had access to the whole building. Charlie had built them all from scratch, and added to them whenever the whim struck him.
The addition of the television had been River’s solution to the problem of all the cats trying to come sit with them upstairs on the bed when they watched. Now, they could curl up on cushions, watch from there, and everyone could keep an eye on them.
