Page 56 of Keystrokes and Kittens

Just as Christian and Sam emerged from the house.

Tibby made a beeline for Sam.

He held the plate above her head. “Sorry, girl. I know you love tuna, but this is for your daddy.” He met my gaze and arched an eyebrow.

“I can’t wait.” I put the spatula on the shelf, grabbed the plate of kebobs, and headed over to the table.

The next hour was…fun. We laughed, joked, talked seriously about Noah and Christian becoming foster parents, and then saton the end of the dock and dipped our toes in the water. I offered everyone swimming trunks, but no one took me up on the offer.

Tibby, though, with her webbed feet, took a running leap off the end of the dock, swam back to shore, came up behind us, and shook herself off.

Everyone laughed.

We cleaned up and headed inside to find the kittens quite indignant at having been excluded from activities. Tibby joined them and, as she relaxed, they climbed all over her.

“We need to be going.” Noah tucked himself against Christian.

Who placed a kiss to his husband’s temple.

I extended my hand.

Sam grasped it.

We saw our friends off and stood by the front door long after their SUV was out of sight.

Tibby swished past my legs, found a patch of grass, and squatted.

I laughed. “Thank you for waiting until after our guests left. That was very delicate of you.”

Whether she actually understood me or not, she headed back into the house. Undoubtedly to play with her two new companions.

I squeezed Sam’s hand. “Shall we?” I gestured toward the house.

“We still have a lot to work out.” He gazed at me with those fathomless dark-brown eyes.

“Yeah. We do. But for now…can we take a nap? I’m exhausted.”

His scowl soon morphed into a smile. “Yeah, we can do that.”

We went into the house.

Chapter Fifteen

Sam

While Soren slept, curled on the sofa, I did some intrepid searching on my phone. I’d managed to wheedle a bit more information about his condition from him before he’d given up the ghost and fallen asleep.

He’d explained that his liver enzyme level had been the same for a long time—and he wasn’t progressing into a more serious illness.

When pressed, however, he admitted his food intake over the past month might’ve affected his numbers. After a whole lot of nagging from me, he set up an appointment to see his doctor next week.

He wasn’t pleased.

Neither was I.

The more I read—the more my worry increased. This was incredibly serious, and he’d been cavalier over the past few weeks. At least he’d been correct on one count—I would’ve absolutely put an end to the recklessness. I would’ve spent way more time preparing healthier foods. We hadn’t even eaten thatmany unhealthy foods—but many of them were bad for liver health. And we certainly hadn’t been eating all the good foods.

I prepared a list of things I’d buy at the grocery store after work.