Page 42 of Keystrokes and Kittens

Soren helped me sit up properly. “Head to bed, Sam. I’ve got everything under control.”

He did, of course, but that didn’t lessen my guilt. “You need more rest.”

His smile lit my insides as he caressed my cheek. “I’m getting more than enough rest. By the time Tibby and I get back from our walk, it’ll be time to feed the little ones. Then I’m off to bed. I promise I’ll get lots of sleep.” He kissed my nose. “All good.”

I had to believe him. I could barely keep my eyes open, and I had to be back at work in the morning. After a moment, I leaned forward.

He met me and our lips pressed together.

In the end, I pulled back first. “I think I like kissing, and I think I like snuggling.”

“Same with me.” He grinned. “We can find our own way through this—I promise.”

I believed him. Somehow what we had—and I truly had no idea what it was—would bring us together. More than just tending for kittens. Some shared understanding of unique grief. Him for the marriage that hadn’t survived and me for the family I’d lost. Now we had Carlos’s death to add to the pile. I rose, pressed my hand to his cheek one more time, and headed upstairs.

Getting ready for bed took mere moments, and I was under the covers and asleep in no time.

Waking up at the sound of the alarm proved easier than the last few days. Even after the reality of yesterday slammed into me, I still felt more refreshed than I had in a very long time. At least since I’d found the kittens in a box. Maybe even longer than that.

Soren made me feel safe. Protected. Like I had someone in my corner.

I got ready and headed downstairs.

He wasn’t in the kitchen, but a note on the counter encouraged me to eat toast and eggs and pointed to a lunch in the fridge. He must’ve forgotten I hadn’t eaten yesterday’s. He also said he was exhausted but that the kittens were fed.

Likely he hadn’t meant for me to feel guilty—but I did.

Still, I had a scrambled egg sandwich, grabbed my lunch, checked on the kittens, then headed out to my SUV. Soon I was on the road to the store, and my mind went about a hundredmiles per hour as I reviewed everything I had to do today. Missing most of yesterday meant working doubly hard today. Still, I could do it.

“You know I can work late and take care of the store, Sam.” Desiree was gentle in her commiseration.

“I need to be here. We’ve got a big delivery coming, the shelves are getting empty, and Soren’s got things taken care of.” I straightened the display rack of treats in front of the cash register.

“If you say so.” Desiree eyed me. “You’re going to be okay?”

“Do I have a choice?” I gazed around the store. “This is my livelihood. It’s all I have.”

“You have Quinta.” She made her way over to the toy section and started picking up a few stray ones that had fallen out of their slots.

“Who doesn’t seem to be in any rush to come home.” I shrugged. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want me to call her? Might be a woman thing.” She straightened the dog leashes.

“What?” I gaped. “What are you talking about?”

She gave methatlook. “She’s a young woman. She might be having young-woman issues.”

“But. But—” I just sort of sputtered. “I taught her about all that stuff. She would come to me, right? Right?” I didn’t even want to contemplate whatyoung womanthings might entail.

Desiree shrugged. “Do you want me to give her a call? We’re notcloseclose, but I certainly know her.”

I considered. And considered. And finally let out a long breath. “I suppose…?”

She held out her phone. “Dial.”

“You don’t want to use my phone?”

“She might not answer.