“Good luck.” Elle snickered, then gasped. “Wait! Do you think Olivia could help with our wedding?”
Cat meowed louder, stomping closer, getting all up in Margot’s space, stepping on Margot’s socked feet with her front paws.
“Um, I don’t see why not. You should definitely ask her.”
“Okay, you go take care of your catastrophe.” Elle chuckled at her own joke. “I’ll talk to you later, ’kay?”
“Later.” Margot ended the call and tossed her phone down beside her with a groan. She looked at Cat and frowned. “How do you think I sounded? Pretty convincing?”
Cat sneezed.
Huh.
“Okay, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Margot sighed. “I am happy for Elle, you know? I’m just . . . conflicted. Which is normal, I guess. I just need to—to get a grip. Pull it together. Because that’s what good friends do.”
Cat cocked her head, whiskers twitching. She patted at Margot’s leg—claws mercifully retracted—and meowed.
If only she knew what the cat was saying—oh, wait. She’d downloaded an app, the one that apparently translated cat-speak into English. It sounded suspect, the science behind it pretty much nonexistent, but there was no harm in trying.
Margot opened up the app and hit the record button.
Cat stared at her, silent.
“Meow?” Margot tried.
If she wasn’t mistaken, she could’ve sworn Cat’s eyes narrowed, judging her.
“Come on. Now you want to be quiet?”
She closed the app with a sigh.
Almost immediately, Cat gave a soft, kittenish-sounding mewl.
“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Margot smiled. “It’s okay. I can be a little bit of an asshole sometimes, too.”
Cat’s tail swished from side to side. She stood, stretched, then hopped off Margot’s bed, sauntering across the room. She stopped just shy of the door and looked back over her shoulder, giving a sharp, insistent meow that made it clear she wanted something.
Margot sighed and stood. “What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well?”
Cat’s eyes narrowed into green slits.
Yeesh. Tough crowd. “Okay, to be fair, I’ll admit that a dog joke might’ve been in poor taste. But most of my cat jokes are in equally poor taste, so it was kind of a lose-lose.”
With a swish of her tail, Cat left the room, looking back once, as if making sure Margot followed.
Instead of turning left toward the living room, Cat went right, turning the corner into Olivia’s room. Margot’s footsteps faltered.
Because of Cat, Olivia kept her door open at all times, even when she wasn’t home. Like now. Olivia was downstairs in the basement, doing a load of laundry.
Cat gave another sharp screech, looking at Margot as if wondering what was taking her so long. Assuming that’s what that cat wanted. Margot didn’t know. It was all a guessing game.
“You need to wait until your . . .” She trailed off. Cat mom? Handler? Human? Hell if she knew. “You’ve got to wait ’til Liv comes back, you little monster.”
Margot couldn’t just waltz inside Olivia’s bedroom, even if the door was open. There were boundaries. Having sex didn’t automatically negate their need for their own space. Privacy. They’d never said bedrooms were off-limits, but wasn’t it implied? Margot couldn’t just—
Cat wailed like a banshee, hitting a pitch that shouldn’t have been possible. Margot cringed and—fuck it. If ever there was a time to throw caution to the wind, it was now, her eardrums practically bleeding as Cat freaking caterwauled. It wasn’t like she’d be snooping through Olivia’s belongings. All she wanted was to figure out what the hell was wrong with this cat and make her stop screaming. Olivia would understand.
Margot stepped inside the room and flipped the lights. She cast a glance around the room, gaze stutter-stopping at the corner near Olivia’s closet. Cat sat beside her litter box with a subtle yet discernible frown on her already scrunchy face. Her ears were down and flat, and she wailed once more.
Margot held her breath and stepped closer and—
“Are you shitting me right now?”
Cat blinked, utterly unrepentant.
Margot pulled her shirt up over her nose. Cat hadn’t bothered to cover her business. Just left it there, bold as could be, in the center of the litter box.
“I’m not cleaning that,” Margot muttered. “You can wait until Olivia comes back.”
Cat looked up, doing her best damn impression of Puss in Boots, all wide, innocent eyes. A sad little mew escaped her. Margot shook her head, turned on her heel, and—