“Eyes closed, boss.” I cover my eyes with my fingers.
I hear him shuffling in the hallway, and a throaty laugh. He sets something in my lap and says, “Open them and don’t freak out.”
I take my fingers off my eyes and look down at the absolutely adorable, fuzzy, black kitten in my lap. “Oh, my God, Adam. Oh, my God. Are you serious?” The immediate reaction is to pick her up and clutch her to my chest. Adam nods, smiling at me. “My gosh. I can’t believe this is happening. I might cry. It’s so adorable,” I exclaim, extending the kitten away from me so I can get a better look. “It has a little white patch on its chest.” I turn her around. “And her tail has a white spot. It is so adorable.” I hug her again. “A girl or a boy?”
“A boy,” Adam says. “The cutest one I could find at the shelter. He was the runt of his litter, the lady said. Do you like him?”
A tear slips down my face. True happiness. “Do I like him? I love him. I’ve wanted a kitten for so long. This is perfect. Perfect, Adam. Thank you so much.”
Adam sits next to me and pets the kitten on the head. “I’m glad. I would have given you a kitten months ago if I knew you wanted one so bad. You should have told me.” He leans over and presses a kiss to the side of my head.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s here now,” I say, trying not to let reminders of the past creep in and ruin this moment. “What should we name him?”
“I think you need to name him. On your own,” Adam says. I meet his eyes, and there’s a hint of sadness there. Like he’s disappointed at my reaction somehow. Was my enthusiasm lacking?
I kiss the kitten’s head. “I need to google names. Where were you keeping him?” I ask.
“I picked him up while you were out,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. The kitten lets out a sad meow. I pet him under his chin. “He’s only seven weeks, so he’ll miss his mom for a little while. And cry a lot. And wake us up in the middle of the night. Or at least that’s what they said at the shelter.”
I bring the kitten’s face to mine. “You won’t be sad. I won’t let you miss your mama,” I say. He has huge green eyes and the tiniest face I’ve ever seen. “Don’t be sad.” I kiss him between his eyes and set him back in my lap and turn to Adam. “This was a great surprise. Thank you again.”
He swallows hard. “It’s good to see you this happy. It makes me happy.”
“A kitten makes everyone happy,” I exclaim.
He looks to the door and then straight ahead. “Yeah.” He meets my gaze. “You’re right.”
Adam does not look happy. Not a true happiness anyway. “I’m going to grab a quick shower and work on a project for a bit. I’ll let you two get better acquainted.” He pets the cat and stands. “They said to confine the kitten to a room until he gets a little bigger, and then to let him explore while we’re home and able to keep an eye on him.” He clears his throat. “I set him up in the guest room. Figure that’s the smallest place where he could have his own space.” He tells me about the food he’s eating and the litter box, but my mind is stuck on the guest room.
With the kitten clutched to my chest, I walk down the hallway and into the room. Noel’s urn is not on the dresser. Adam is behind me in the next beat. “Calm down, Kendall. Calm down. It’s safe.”
I shake my head even as my pulse rages inside my ears. “I’m calm.”
“I put it in the closet. In the thick cardboard box it came in. I didn’t want the kitten to accidentally knock it over.” Adam pauses in the doorway, the imaginary line drawn. “Okay? Is that okay?”
It makes logical sense, but my heart doesn’t understand logic when it comes to that urn. I nod. Adam doesn’t accept that. He comes in and puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Do you want it back out?” he asks. His words don’t reach me. They’re swirling around my echo chamber, unable to penetrate the force field. The kitten meows loudly, and I stroke his fur. “Do you want it back out?”
“She’s not an it,” I yell.
Adam moves into my eye line. “It is an urn. Do you want the urn out of the closet? I was only doing what I thought was best. What do you want?” Gently, he touches the side of my face. I turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I think you made a good decision.” As I say it, I know I don’t believe it. “I got used to having her there. That’s all. You don’t have to apologize.”
He smiles weakly, kisses me on the mouth, and closes the door behind him. I hear the shower start and breathe out a huge sigh. I set the kitten down by the litter box and open the closet. I remove the box, open the top, and see that she’s packaged with the utmost of care, bubble wrap surrounding the urn on every side. I close the lid before a tear mars the porcelain, and put everything back inside the closet, safe and sound. When I close the door, the kitten bats at my feet. I scoop him up and tuck us into my bed. Opening my laptop, I google cat names for far longer than I should. I only shower and get ready for bed after I’m questioning my sanity.
“Who are you?” I ask the kitten sitting on the edge of the bed. “How do I know who you’re supposed to be?”
He meows at me, opening his mouth so wide his eyes close completely. I laugh. He repeats the gesture, and I laugh even louder. Adam knocks on the door softly before poking his head in.
He grins when he sees me. “Go ahead and sleep in here,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Thank God you said it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell you I was going to sleep with him tonight.”
Adam smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “’Night, Kendall.” He casts a glance to the kitten, waits for my reply, then shuts the door.
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