Stray for You (Rainbow Rescue Cat Café #3)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Cameron

I DRIVE TO AUNT Mary’s place after finishing up work at the café. I wasn’t lying to Erin and the others about that, even if I did maybe lie about how early I had to start my shift today. That’s hardly the worst sin I committed last night, however.

Why the hell did I let Julian kiss me like that?

I spent my entire drive home trying to scrub it off my lips, then brushed my teeth twice before going to bed. It didn’t work. The memory of his mouth warmed my lips as I fell asleep. My morning coffee didn’t wash it away either, nor did an eight-hour shift at the café. My weekly dinner with Mom and Aunt Mary is my last hope.

“Cameron, is that you?” Mom calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”

“Help set the table. Everything’s ready.”

I toe off my shoes and pad through the living room to the kitchen at the back. Mom and Aunt Mary dodge around each other pulling things off the stove and out of the oven. I skirt around the edge of the chaos, collecting plates and cups from the cupboards to set them on the table in the dining room. When I go back for the cutlery, Mom scoots past me carrying a dish. Aunt Mary follows her, and by the time I return with cutlery, a big steaming platter of lasagna sits on the table accompanied by green beans slathered in salt, pepper and butter.

My stomach grumbles at the sight.

“Hungry, are we?” Aunt Mary says.

She doesn’t look much like me and Mom. We’re both dark-haired and dark-eyed and a little on the taller side, but Aunt Mary is a short woman with a mop of curly brown hair and green eyes. She smiles warmly at me as I take a seat across from her and Mom and immediately start heaping lasagna onto my plate.

“Are you eating enough?” Mom says. “If you need me to drop off groceries…”

“Mom, you aren’t going to buy my groceries for me,” I say. “I’m an adult.”

“That doesn’t mean your mother can’t help you. You’re getting skinny.”

“I’m fine, Mom. It’s just been a long day. I was at the café all day, and I had a show last night.”

Mom and Aunt Mary’s eyes light up at the mention of the show, and I immediately regret bringing it up. Normally, I treasure their support for my attempt at a career in music, but this is one time I’d prefer they forget all about The Ten Hours.

“You had a show last night?” Aunt Mary says around a mouthful of lasagna.

I take a big bite, but only partially because I’m starving. Chewing saves me from having to respond. The last thing I want to do is relive last night … not that I haven’t been doing that all day.

I swallow, and there’s nowhere left to run. They’re both waiting on me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Downtown.”

“And?” Mom prompts.

“It went pretty well,” I say.

“That’s it?”

“I don’t know what to say. It was just our usual thing. We’ve been playing the same material for two years. It was fine, I guess.”

Mom sighs, but doesn’t actually look upset.

“You downplay your talent too much, Cameron,” Aunt Mary says. “You’re extraordinary with that guitar of yours. You should be proud of it.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, looking down at my dinner instead of up at them.

They’re both so supportive of me. Moving out here and getting Mom set up with Aunt Mary has been great for all three of us. We might not be a super conventional family, but this feels more like family than anything I experienced back in New Jersey. Even before Dad left, he was checked out. Walking out the door only made it official.

So I’d love to tell them all about the show. I’d love to gush about what the band is working on, the festival we applied for, the song I’m attempting to write. But all of that comes tainted with the memory of Julian cornering me in the parking lot. Once again, he’s barged into my life uninvited and smudged what should be a purely happy memory.

I stab at my lasagna with unnecessary force. He messed with me and Mom’s lives enough in New Jersey. No way in hell am I letting him do that to us again while he’s out here for his stupid work conference. Why? Why did he have to go and kiss me like that? I was about to shove him away and he just lunged . I froze up, unsure what to do.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

Even as I repeat the script in my head, warmth drips into my belly, a heat that has no place seeping into me alongside the name “Julian Brooks.” He stayed against my mouth way too long. I should have pushed him away, but I was too shocked to respond at first.

I mean, I guess my mouth responded. A little. Kind of. But that’s an involuntary reaction, an instinct. What was I going to do? Bite him? No way. He’d probably like that way too much and get all weird about it. In fact, he should be thanking me for not shoving him away immediately. I had every right to kick him in the balls in that parking lot, but I didn’t.

Because part of me didn’t want to.

I almost choke on my lasagna. Mom and Aunt Mary are talking about the new sauce they used in the dish, but I haven’t heard a word of their conversation since my thoughts started spiraling out. I shouldn’t be thinking about Julian at all, let alone about that kiss. The idea that I didn’t push him away because I liked it is enough to make my stomach churn.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take the excuse to check out for a moment. It’s probably Henry or Sebastian at the café asking me to cover a shift for them. Normally, I’d dread that, but I could use the distraction. Hopefully they’ll need me for a nice, long, busy shift tomorrow.

I dig my phone out and check it surreptitiously under the table, but the name on the screen isn’t either of my co-workers. It’s Julian.

My dinner sits like a stone in my stomach. Of course he still has my number. Why wouldn’t he? I should have blocked his ages ago, but after Mom and I moved out here, I kind of forgot about it. We haven’t been in touch in years, so it didn’t cross my mind to bother blocking him. It’s far from my first mistake when it comes to Julian.

Hey , the text says, about yesterday, I want to apologize.

I scoff at the screen, drawing Mom and Aunt Mary’s attention.

“Everything okay?” Mom says.

“Yeah, sorry, work stuff,” I say.

I’m not sure why I lie to her. Normally I wouldn’t, but admitting to her of all people that I’m getting texts from Julian is something I simply can’t bring myself to do. How could I admit to her that I’m talking to a guy connected to one of the worst times of her life? It wasn’t Julian’s fault that Dad left, but he sure as hell didn’t make that time period any easier on me and Mom.

Don’t care , I text back.

The response comes quickly. You don’t, but I do. Seriously, Cam, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have gone for it like that.

I stare at my phone screen. Is Julian being sincere? Is this actually happening? I can’t handle this. I don’t want to handle this. There are too many conflicting feelings caught up in this, too much history. Julian was an annoyance when we were in high school; he was an ass when we were in college and our moms were dating and he wouldn’t stop harping on me about it. I don’t know what to do with this new adult version of him who kisses me without warning but issues a credible apology for it.

Okay, fine , I say. Apology accepted. Leave me alone.

I shoot off the text and stuff my phone back in my pocket. The quickest way to be rid of Julian is to give him what he wants. I do my best to tune back into the sauce conversation, but all I have to offer is my bland agreement that it’s good.

“Come on, Cameron,” Aunt Mary says. “Good? That’s all you’ve got?”

I shrug with my mouth full. I don’t know how to describe sauce other than “good” or “not good.” It’s not like it’s all that important. It tastes decent enough, and I honestly can’t tell the difference between this and whatever she used last week.

“The boy has never been a foodie,” Mom says. “I used to have to give him plain toast. Nothing on it. Literally just toasted bread. He wouldn’t accept anything else for breakfast for an entire year when he was about five.”

Aunt Mary is laughing, and I’m trying not to flush with embarrassment.

“I was a kid,” I complain.

“I know,” Mom says fondly. “You were my baby boy. You still are.”

I am. No matter how old I get, a piece of me will always be her baby boy. That’s why having Julian appear is messing with me so bad. I don’t want anything or anyone who could hurt her to get within a twenty mile radius of my mom. She’s always taken care of me. The least I can do is not make out with the guy connected to such a hard time in our lives.

As though on cue, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, prepared to tell Julian to screw off, but the message I get isn’t some snide remark like I’d expect.

I want to take you out to dinner , he writes.

I must have missed the message because several more follow.

Please, Cam.

Just this once.

Let me be a decent guy to you one time.

Then I’ll leave Seattle and it won’t even matter anymore.

I’ll never bother you again.

Even in text form, desperation undercuts the messages. I can hear his voice in my ears, pleading with me to give him this one opportunity to prove he’s not everything I assume he is, he’s not that guy who made my life hell when our moms were dating. He isn’t here to hurt me — or her.

I struggle to reconcile the man texting me with the person I knew back in New Jersey. My lips hum with the memory of that kiss, a kiss I didn’t pull away from the way I should have. Is there any possibility that Julian Brooks isn’t exactly the man he’s always been? Is there any chance he’s changed?

I shouldn’t want to find out, but when I start tapping at my phone, I don’t tell him to jump off a bridge like I should.

Fine , I write. Friday night. That’s the only time I’m free.

It’s a lie, but setting guardrails around this gives me something sturdy to cling to while my heart races around my chest like it’s on fire. Julian responds instantly with the name of a really nice place downtown, a place I could never afford.

If he insists on inserting himself back into my life, at least I’ll get a free meal out of it.