Mona sighs, her eyes a little sad. “One day someone will make you see how gorgeous you are. And that day might not be too far away.”
I shake my head at my friend’s unflappable optimism, irrational though it is. “You’re such a romantic, but Rogan isn’t interested in me, Mona. And even if he was, it wouldn’t last more than a few heartbeats. Maybe he thinks I’m a challenge because I didn’t fall at his feet. I don’t know, but whatever it is, it won’t take him long to realize that I’m not a challenge. I’m nothing. I’m not worth his interest. His time. His attention. I’m nothing special. When he sees that, he’ll move on. If he’s even interested at all, which I doubt.”
She cocks her head and considers me. “You ever gonna tell me what happened to make you this way?”
“What’s ‘this way’?”
“So . . . alone. And so content with it.”
“I’m not alone, Mona. I have you. And Dozer. And Janet, my nosey neighbor.”
Mona pushes her bright pink bottom lip out in a pout. “Dozer’s not even a person. He’s a cat. And cats don’t count. Besides, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Well, it should.”
“I just want you to be happy, Kitty.”
Somewhere along the way, Mona started calling me “Kitty” as a term of endearment. She began with Kat, but I couldn’t let her continue with that. It made my chest feel tight and the room spin every time I heard it. Kat was another girl from another life. A life that ended in tragedy. Kat died a long time ago and I want no reminders. Mona took it well, though. That’s when she started calling me Kitty. I let her keep that one.
Kitty.
I shake my head.
Some days it makes me feel like a porn star. Some days it makes me feel like I should have a hip holster and a gun so I can go around shooting up saloons. But other days . . . days like today, it makes me feel loved, something that I haven’t felt very much in the last few years.
“I know. And I will be. I mean, I am.”
“I won’t be satisfied until you can say that a little more convincingly. And with a smile.”
I nod, desperate to change the subject. “I’ll come get you for lunch.”
She claps enthusiastically. “Lunch! Yay!” And then she turns and blows out of my space just as quickly as she blew in.
? ? ?
I twist the knob and gently push open my front door. I peek around the wooden panel to make sure my cat has moved before I swing it wide enough to get through.
Dozer likes to sleep on the rug right under the mail slot while I’m gone. On several occasions, I’ve seen curious scratches and puncture marks in the envelopes of a few bills here and there. It makes me wonder if Dozer attacks the mail when it comes through the flap. I can only imagine that it would scare the crap out of me if I were sleeping when it landed on me.
I smile as my black-and-gray striped cat snakes his way over to my leg, weaving in and out in a figure eight pattern, rubbing his sides against me and purring loud enough to wake the dead.
“Hey, buddy, were you sleeping?”
I bend to scoop him up and he immediately head butts me. That’s been his greeting since the day I rescued him from a cat-eating dog gang that terrorized my neighborhood two years ago. I think he realizes he’d have been dead meat if I hadn’t intervened. He’s been my loyal companion ever since.
“You’re the only man I need in my life, aren’t you, Dozer?” I croon to him, aggravated that I’m still thinking about Kiefer Rogan.
Dozer jumps out of my arms, walks four feet and flops down on the carpet where he proceeds to groom himself. I stand on the rug, watching him, letting the peace and quiet and familiar smells of my home, of my life relax me.