A woman in his bed every night, the same woman.
Things he’d never wanted before, but wanted now. Craved now, the way he used to crave only work. In fact, for long years in his life, the physical aggression of his job had kept him calm. Pounding nails. Carting hundreds of pounds of drywall up and down flights of stairs.
That was no longer the case.
He was a guy who prided himself on staying true to himself. He’d always known that he wasn’t the guy who wanted a white picket fence, a woman wearing his diamond, and two point five kids. He’d never seen himself craving any of that.
But there was no longer any solace in the thought of being on his own for the rest of his life. And if he was being honest with himself, he could also admit he’d changed his mind about love and commitment as well.
Shitty timing on that . . .
Restless, determined to go back to his original plans, he strode through the rooms and headed into his office, where he called Sass.
“Somebody better be dead,” she answered sleepily.
“I need you to get Vallejo on the market.”
This got him a load of silence.
“Sass?”
“You’re calling me at”—there was a rustling, like she was sitting up in bed—“midnight to tell me you want to sell your house?”
“I was always going to sell this place,” he said. “You know that.”
“Noooooo, you weren’t. I mean yes, you pretended you would,” she said, sounding far more awake now. “But we all knew . . .”
“What?”
“That you’d finally found yourself a home you wanted to keep instead of living like a vagabond. Especially now that you and Willa are a thing. She loves the place too—”
“You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “On all counts. Get the place on the market.”
This time the beat of silence was shorter. “It’s your life,” she said and disconnected on him.
“It is,” he said to the cat who was sitting at the foot of his bed, eyes sharp and on his face, tail switching about. “My life.”
Pita stopped twitching her tail, said her piece with a simple but short and succinct “mew,” and stalked up the bed toward him.
“We’ve discussed this. I don’t share my bed with cats.”
Not giving a single shit, she walked up his legs and then leapt to his chest, where she sat, calm as you please.
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”
She lifted a paw and began to wash her face.
“Cat, I’m serious.”
She changed things up, washing behind her ears now.
“If you start going at your lady town, it’s all over,” he warned.
Still on his chest, she lowered her paw, turned in a circle, daintily curled up in a ball, and closed her eyes.
“Not happening,” he said.
She didn’t move.
And neither did he.
Chapter 26
#MagicallyDelicious
The next morning Willa lay in bed staring at the ceiling feeling the entire weight of her heart sitting heavily in her gut.
No regrets, she told herself. She’d done the right thing being honest with Keane, for both of them.
Trying to believe that, she got up and realized with some shock that it was the day before Christmas Eve. Normally this was her favorite time of the year. She loved the renewed sense of energy and anticipation the city of San Francisco put off, loved the smiles on the faces of everyone who came into her shop, loved the magic of the holiday, loved everything about it.
But her cheer was definitely missing as she quickly and quietly got ready for work.
Rory was still asleep on the couch. After Willa had entered her apartment last night to find Rory waiting up for her, she’d had to set aside the feeling of devastation about pushing Keane away and paste a smile on her face.
Rory had needed that of her. They’d sat together and talked. Rory’d had a little meltdown, admitting she missed her family, that she wished she hadn’t so completely messed it up with them.
Willa had asked her to pretty please consider going home for Christmas and make peace with them. When Rory said she couldn’t get a ride to Tahoe on this short of notice, Willa had once again promised to work it out for her. The girl didn’t have much in the way of family, but there was a lot of love and forgiveness there if she would only reach out.
Her own heart had squeezed hard at that, almost as if the poor organ was desperately trying to tell her that there was something in there for her to think about as well.
Now in the light of day, she knew she wasn’t caffeinated enough to go there. She tiptoed past the couch, thinking she’d handle the morning shop rush on her own today.
An early Christmas present to Rory.
Her first grooming client was a feisty little pug named Monster who had terrible asthma. He whistled on the inhale and snorted on the exhale, making him sound like an eighty-year-old man smoking and climbing stairs at the same time.
As soon as she got Monster in the tub, Elle and Haley showed up with coffee and muffins.
“Whoa,” Haley said, stopping short, eyes on the pug. “That’s the homeliest dog I’ve ever seen.”
Monster tipped his head up, his huge black eyes on Willa as he snorted for air. She kissed him on the top of his wrinkly head. “Don’t listen to her. You’re adorable. And don’t ask me how last night went,” she warned the girls.
“Don’t have to ask,” Elle said. “You’re not wearing your just-got-laid smile.”
“It’s because you didn’t take the handcuffs,” Haley said. “Isn’t it?”
Willa lifted her hands off Monster, his signal to shake. Water flew all over them. Well, all over herself and Haley. No water dared to hit Elle.
Haley squealed and Monster seemed to grin with pride as he shook again.
“You’re only egging him on,” Willa warned, laughing.
“Dogs can’t be egged on like that.”
“He’s a male,” Elle said, still completely dry. “He was born to be egged on. Now talk to us,” she said to Willa.
Willa sighed, and leaving out the part where she’d let Keane walk away, told them about the Andy portion of the previous evening.
Both Elle and Haley were suitably horrified, but when Rory walked in they pretended they’d been discussing the weather.