Page 186 of Full Contact

“She looks like a traitor,” Varga said.

“She looks like she’s about to leave,” Anna said.

Five minutes later, Peaches caught the bandana with a back foot, pulled it free, and left it on the rug.

“Longer than I’d have lasted,” Varga announced.

I sent the photograph to the list.

Mark: The birthday girl, modeling Kelsey’s gift.

Kelsey: I know nothing about this purchase, and I resent the allegation.

I photographed her name on the shipping label.

Kelsey: Anyone could have typed that.

Trier read it over my shoulder, laughing against my ear.

“I love your family,” I said.

“That’s good because they’ve decided to keep you.”

He kissed the side of my neck before taking the box to the hall.

Cross and his wife left after their drink. Peaches outlasted them by retreating to her window bed.

Varga stationed himself beside the cake. “What’s she predicting for the new season?”

“She’s retired,” Trier said.

Rook kept eating. I reached for the cake knife.

“Wait,” Varga said. “I have permission to offer a toast.”

“Limited permission,” Rook said.

“To the cat.” Varga opened his phone and scrolled.

“How many drafts?” Heath asked.

“Enough to choose from.”

Rook picked up his glass and a spoon. “Two minutes.”

“We agreed on two minutes before you added the spoon.”

“Consider the spoon a hook to drag you off stage.”

Trier gave Peaches her birthday treat. She took it to the seat of my leather chair, where she could eat without having to interact with anyone.

“Sixteen years,” Varga began. “Sixteen years of distinguished service to this household, this franchise, and an internet that doesn’t deserve her. She predicted a championship. A banner went up this week, and her name wasn’t on it. I asked on her behalf.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Who did you ask?”

“Leah. She was very firm. Meanwhile, Cross lifted the Cup first. Cross wasn’t the one who knocked two mice off a couch.”

“He led the team,” Pratt said.