107. Rosalyn

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

ROSALYN

Little feet walk up my side, bringing me out of my dream, away from a naked Nathan.

"You little butthole." I yawn through the insult.

Charles, unbothered by the name-calling, pushes his nose against my temple.

"Okay, okay, I'm up."

I roll onto my back and blink up at the ceiling.

"Seriously." I scratch the top of Charles's head. "What's a girl gotta do to get some dick around here?"

The cat meows.

"You're probably right."

I sigh.

The lack of sex is my fault. I've been so tired the last two nights I barely even remember going to bed. But I do remember the conversation we had last night on the ride home.

And melancholy tries to envelop me as I recall it.

Nathan has to leave for California today for some sort of week-long tech conference.

He apologized, which is ridiculous since it's for his job, and his job is running a tech company .

But what's even worse than him leaving is that he's heading to the airport from the office.

Which again, I can't begrudge him since he's been home with me since the accident.

Obviously, as the man in charge, he can delegate. But that doesn't mean work hasn't piled up for him.

Because of me.

Charles meows again, and I turn my head toward the dresser against the wall. And the painting resting on top of it.

"You like your painting?" I hold out my hand and let Charles rub his cheek against my palm. "I like it too."

The large canvas covered in golden cattails is perfect for Charles. The orange tones shine through in the morning light, mimicking his glossy coat.

And the five figures Nathan paid for it will help to protect some animal's habitat, so I refuse to feel guilty for telling him to buy a big one.

Cat paws press into my stomach as Charles climbs on top of me.

Looking at the clock, I see it's just after nine. "Are you hungry, boy?"

Charles kneads his paws into my belly.

Before he left this morning, Nathan woke me up long enough to kiss me on the cheek and remind me I can call anytime if I have questions about Charles. But I've watched him feed the feline enough over the past several days, and I know it's past his breakfast time.

Charles jumps off me, then stands at the edge of the bed, looking back over his shoulder at me.

I hold my hands up. "Keep your furry pants on. I'm getting up."

He makes a noise that I'm sure is telling me to hurry, then he leaps to the floor.

"You and your human." I huff. "You're always hungry."

I'm reaching for my crutches when I pause, struck with an idea.