65. Rosalyn

SIXTY-FIVE

ROSALYN

Clutching the coffee to my chest, I turn away from Nathan and circle around his giant island.

Leaving that damn cat has me way too close to crying.

I lift the tumbler to my lips and try to mask my sniff with a sip.

Maybe I could get a cat. I've just always felt so guilty about leaving them home alone on my long days, but maybe they'd be okay. And I could make up for being gone with all the days I'm at home cooking.

Nathan joins me by the front door, and we put our shoes on in silence. And I finally notice that he's dressed the same as last night too. Minus the hoodie.

He hands me my purse from where I dropped it on the floor, and I try not to blush remembering our hurry to get to the bedroom.

The silence continues in the elevator and as we walk through the below-ground parking ramp.

Nathan leads me to an all-black midsize SUV.

It's nice. Like really nice, but I still somehow pictured him in some snazzy sports car, not something so… practical.

Nathan reaches around me to open the passenger door. "Don't forget to buckle up."

I make a humming sound and avoid eye contact as I slip past him .

He closes my door for me, and I use the time it takes him to round the back of the vehicle to quickly buckle my seat belt, setting my purse on my lap and resting my coffee on top of that.

I'm making it weird.

I know I am, and I don't mean to, but I just feel so… melancholy.

Everything has felt so easy between us.

The drinks. The kissing. Talking.

And that fucking cat.

More of that sadness twists around my heart.

Last night was the perfect reminder of why we were such good friends twenty-five years ago. Even as kids, our personalities just… clicked.

Nathan opens the driver's door, and I force my body to relax. I don't want to end our time together with awkward silence.

Turning my head to look at him, I hold up my coffee. "Thank you for this."

The side of his mouth pulls up in a partial smile. "You're welcome."

He sets his drink in one of the empty cupholders between us, buckles in, and starts the engine.

Nathan pauses with his hand on the shifter. "Wanna put your address in the GPS?"

My fingers flex around the cup in my hands.

I don't really want to do that. Giving him my address seems a little too… hopeful.

But my horny ass agreed to let him drive me home, so there's literally no way to avoid it.

I reach out to the screen on his dashboard and start to type in my address.

Before I can finish, the radio clicks on, and voices fill the car.

"Oops." Nathan lifts his hips off the seat and shoves his hand into his pocket.

I can't tell if they're the same jeans from last night, but instead of pulling my panties out, he pulls out his phone.

A second later, the voices stop.

"Podcast," he explains.

"What one?" I ask, curious, as I type in the rest of my address .

When I'm done, Nathan reaches up and rubs at the back of his neck. "Uh, it's the Pretty Cat podcast."

I roll my lips together. "Oh."

He glances at me as he starts to reverse the vehicle. "It's about cats."

I nod, trying not to laugh. "I gathered."

Out of the parking spot, Nathan puts his vehicle in drive. "It's actually really interesting. And it's not just about house cats. They talk about big cats too. Like tigers and shit."

A chuckle finally breaks free, and he darts a look at me as he drives up the ramp toward the street.

"I'm not laughing at you," I tell him. "Just at your delivery. You sound so serious."

His cheek twitches. "Cats are serious business."

"Absolutely." I use a sober tone. "Tigers and shit."

Nathan smirks. "You're a little turd."

I snort a laugh, and that's all it takes to break through the funk.

As Nathan pulls out onto the mostly empty street, I stretch my arm out and hit the play icon on the screen.

The podcast starts up again.

I'm curious to hear what they're talking about. And if it's also a way to avoid making conversation for the next eighteen minutes, then so be it.

I relax into my seat and sip my coffee.

Then ten minutes later, I'm listening raptly as to why bobcats don't have tails.