Rusty Nailed (The Cocktail Series)

“I’m so sorry,” Simon said, and I nodded. I hugged Clive so tightly he squeaked.

“Where’s his carrier?” I asked.

“I’ll get it,” he answered, and left the room.

I looked down at my cat, who turned in my arms to look up at me. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?” I warned, stroking his silky fur. He put a paw over my mouth. I kissed it, smiling down at him. When Simon came back with the carrier, my smile faded.

“I’m going to run him over to the pet place, okay?” I said quietly, nudging him into his carrier.

He nodded. “I’ll go buy one of those blow-up beds.”

I started for the door. “Do you have my key? In case I get back before you do?”

“Oh, sure—here it is,” he said, pulling a new key chain from his back pocket and handing me a key. I took it.

This didn’t have quite the ceremony that I thought it might.

I left with my cat.

? ? ?

I checked Clive in to his hotel, bought at least a dozen I’m-sorry catnip mice, and left after he was passed out on a pillow watching Lion King. As I drove back home, thoughts flew in and out of my head almost faster than I could process. Emotions too many to count. I was pissed, no doubt about it. About the bed? Yes. About Clive almost going out the window? Yes.

But there was more going on than just that; shit that I couldn’t even begin to ponder. Too tired to ponder this pickle, I winced once more as the car door squeaked, then plodded up the walk. I was exhausted, I was starving, and more than that, I felt terrible that this very exciting day had been turned into a crapshow.

I pushed open the door and found the biggest blow-up bed that had ever been created smack dab in the middle of the living room. Made up with sheets and blankets and mounds and mounds of pillows. And next to that? A table made out of a box covered with a furniture pad. And next to that? Two bags full of take-out Thai and a six-pack of beer cooling in a mop bucket full of ice.

And next to that? Simon. Sitting on the end of the bed. Which was very low to the ground. And quite squishy. So when he tried to stand? Not so much.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as my very good looking and oh-so-athletic boyfriend struggled to stand up straight, and when he did? He was beet red.

“I got the bed,” he said quietly.

“I see that.”

“It’s pretty low.”

“It would seem.”

He came and stood in front of me, his body tense. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I know.” I smoothed his hair back from his face and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Can I have that key back?”

“Already?” I asked.

“Gimme it,” he muttered, one corner of his mouth lifting.

I looked at him curiously, but handed it back to him. He looked at it carefully, then back at me.

“I’ve never lived with anyone. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. Then he opened my hand and placed the key back in the middle of it. Closing my hand over it, he smiled. “Welcome home, babe.”

I smiled back and let him pull me into a slow and tentative kiss. This was better.

? ? ?

We ate dinner sitting cross-legged on the inflatable bed, which proved more difficult than I’d thought. First on the list, get some chairs over here pronto.

After dinner we walked from room to room, talking about what might go here, and what might go there. We had a pretty good idea of where we wanted everything, but there was nothing like walking through it together and making plans. When he said he’d never lived with anyone before, he wasn’t the only one. I’d had roommates, but never lived with a boyfriend.

Until now Simon and I had been very much together, but still very much our own entities. That had changed now. I was “living with someone.” If someone asked, “Hey, is that Caroline seeing anyone?” the answer would be, “Oh yeah, she and her boyfriend are living together,” or, “Yep, she and her boyfriend just bought a house together.” We were taking a very big step here, but a step I was glad we were taking.

And as we walked through our new home, room by room, I began to dream a little. I’d always seen myself in a big house like this someday, but never thought it would happen so quickly. I could always see past the things that needed to be changed, but now that I was in here, and the space was really and truly ours, I could feel the house. Feel what it had been, and what would be again for us.

A home. And isn’t that exciting? And a little scary.

When we finally made it to the master bedroom, I asked why we weren’t staying in there tonight.

“No lights; all the bulbs are burned out. I’ll get some tomorrow,” Simon answered, tugging me toward the window. The moonlight came through the glass, illuminating the room with the barest hint of blue. He sat on the window seat, pulling me onto his lap. “Where do you think we should put our bed?” he asked, nuzzling my neck.

“Our blow-up bed?”

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