Falling (7 page)

Emma thinks about what would happen if she asked Jesse if he's married, cringing in horror at how ridiculous she would sound. She can already picture his sideways glance of disdain.

She turns on the radio instead, scrolling through until she finds 95.9 The Fox, grateful for Steely Dan, amazed that Jesse starts singing along right away. He knows all the words, more than her, even, and she starts to laugh.

“How do you know this?”

“This is what my dad and I listen to all the time.”

“Steely Dan?”

“All the old music. Neil Young. Lynyrd Skynyrd. The Allman Brothers.”

“You're a pretty cool little kid.” Emma laughs. She feels amazed
at how relaxed and open he seems with her after their silent morning together. “You know that, right?”

“Yup,” nods Jesse. “I know. Hey, did you ever go to the Humane Society?”

“What's the Humane Society?”

“It's where you go to rescue animals.”

“I haven't. I don't have any animals. Which is a shame. I'd kind of love something to keep me company, but I'm not sure I could handle a dog.”

“I love animals,” Jesse says, staring at her with great seriousness and intensity. “I wanted a cat for my birthday, but Dad is worried it will get run over. I don't know why. Our neighbors have three cats and they've lived here for ages and they're fine, and they live outside and inside, too.”

“So he won't allow you a cat?”

Jesse shakes his head with such a solemn look on his face that a ridiculous idea blooms in Emma's head. Surprised, she shakes herself, trying to dispel it. Of course Emma shouldn't get a cat. For starters, she has no idea if animals are even allowed in her lease. Although, surely, given that she is babysitting Jesse today, her friendship with Dominic has reached a level where she could persuade him to say yes, even if the lease said no.

Now that she realizes she's talking herself into it, she stops to wonder why the prospect of a cat suddenly seems appealing. She'd never considered having an animal before. Is it for her, or is it to try to endear herself to Jesse? And why would she want to be doing that, anyway?

Because he's a kid,
she thinks.
And he's my neighbor. Because he's sweet, and doesn't have a mother, and wants a cat. And if I got one, we could share it.

She doesn't stop to be shocked by her own thoughts. Instead, she
finds herself saying, “Shall we go and have a look?” After a pregnant pause, she adds, “Just to see.”

Jesse nods, grinning widely now. By the look on his face, she can tell the two of them are now in this potentially naughty outing together.

When they arrive at the shelter, Emma really is planning to just look. She thinks they can get away with wandering the corridors gazing at the animals, maybe playing with one or two, but leaving empty-handed a few minutes later.

She didn't expect the shelter to have kittens, much less a tiny tabby female who is the last one left. She didn't expect the kitten to curl up in her hands, nudging Emma's chin over and over as her whole body shakes with purring. Then Jesse sits cross-legged on the floor, the cat crawling all over him, up his shirt, as he heaves with giggles and nuzzles the tiny creature.

“If we got her,” Emma says, “not that we're going to, but if we did, what would be a good name for a kitten like this?”

“I would call her Hobbes,” says Jesse.

“Hobbs like the clothing store?” Emma thinks about her mainstay in London.

Jesse frowns. “No. Like
Calvin and Hobbes
. The tiger. She's kind of like a tiny brown tiger.”

She laughs. “I like it.” And then, not quite believing the words that come out of her mouth—what happened to the good girl, with all those years of banking in her past?—she says, “Should we?” Even as she speaks, she realizes that it isn't really a “we” question. This cat would be hers. But she can't help acknowledging she'd be willing and wanting to share her with Jesse for as long as she lives next door to him.

“For real?” His eyes grow big.

“Do you think your dad would go nuts if I brought home a kitten?”

“No!” he breathes, his eyes still large. “We had a lady live there two years ago who had two cats, and the last person had a big dog. He would be fine! For real, though? We can get this kitten?”

“Hobbes. Yes. We'll have to get a litter tray at Home Depot, and a cat flap.” Then she feels the moment fill her with a warm glow. “I haven't had a cat since I was a child. This is actually very exciting!” she says, as Hobbes crawls on top of her foot and looks up at her with a plaintive mew.

“Gosh, you are gorgeous, Hobbes,” she says, scooping the kitten up and burying her nose in her soft fur. Then she turns to Jesse. “Let's do it!” she says. “But let's leave her here while we go to the store to get everything we need, and we'll pick her up on the way home.”

In the end, what shocks her most isn't her impetuous decision, but rather that she finds herself standing in the aisle of the shelter with a small child hugging her legs, his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face.

Before long, she and Jesse are in the car, post Home Depot, the back filled with shelves, brackets, long thin boxes of thin veneer tongue-and-groove wood planks for the kitchen floor, cat litter tray and litter, cat flap and kitten food, and one cardboard box punctured with lines of round holes, from which Hobbes squeaks all the way home.

•   •   •

Dominic's truck is in the driveway when they pull in next door.

“Uh-oh,” says Emma, with a wave of regret. She was trying to do something nice for Jesse, as well as for herself, but she really should have checked with him beforehand—he is her landlord, after all. All of this only seems to be striking her now.

“Do you really think it's okay?” she asks Jesse.

“I think he'll be fine,” Jesse says, in a worryingly mature manner for a six-year-old. “Anyway, once he sees Hobbes, he's going to fall in love. Like we did.”

“Let's hope so,” says Emma, as Dominic walks out the front door and comes over to the car with a big smile on his face.

“Hey, buddy!” He gives Jesse a high five as he looks at the packed car. “You look like you need some help unpacking your vehicle, ma'am,” he says to Emma with mock formality. Then he frowns as Hobbes's unmistakable mewling comes from inside the box.

“I'm really sorry,” says Emma, and she immediately starts babbling. “We're hoping you're going to be okay with this and I realize I should have checked with you first but . . .”

But Jesse stops her by bursting out with, “We got a kitten!” Before Dominic can react, before he has a chance even to speak, Jesse pulls open the box and grabs the tiny Hobbes and places her in his father's hands.

Dominic's face instantly softens. He looks down, startled, before burying his nose in the kitten's fur, just as Emma had. The kitten starts to purr like an engine, clearly making her own bid for Dominic's compliance.

Emma catches Jesse's eye.
Bold move,
she mouths approvingly.

Jesse shrugs, as if he can always be relied on to know the right thing to do when it comes to his father.

“Whose kitten is this?” says Dominic. “It's adorable, but I mean, I don't know . . . Jesse, we need to talk about this.”

“It's not mine. It's Emma's. But she said she'd share it with me. And it's not an it, it's a her. Her name is Hobbes and she's really Emma's, but mine, too. And we bought a cat flap and Emma says I can come over anytime and play with the kitten, and please, Dad, say it's okay? Please? It's the only thing I've ever really, really wanted.”

Dominic pauses. But not for as long as Emma might have expected. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still lit up at the tiny kitten in his hands. “She's adorable. Hobbes. Sorry. Hobbes is adorable.” He raises an eyebrow at Jesse, who nods in delight. “Hobbes as in
Calvin and Hobbes
?”

Jesse nods, and Dominic glances at Emma. “Figures,” he says to her. “His favorite comic strip for years.” Now he meets her gaze squarely. “I'm fine with you having a cat. I guess. I don't really have a choice, do I?”

Emma doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't look angry.

Then he surprises her by saying, “Do you want me to put the cat flap in for you?”

“That would be fantastic.” She suddenly feels shy, touched by his easy acceptance of her impulsive cat-rescuing. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His tone now is quiet, and more serious, too. “Thank you for looking after Jesse. Obviously the two of you had a good time.”

“It was the best,” says Jesse. “And we stopped for ice cream on—” His face falls and he turns toward the houses. “I mean, nothing. We didn't have ice cream. We drove by the ice cream place and said maybe we'd come back after lunch. Right?” He turns to Emma with a warning glance.

“Absolutely,” says Emma, who doesn't point out the chocolate drips all the way down his red T-shirt, drips that his father is looking at right now with wry amusement.

“So you didn't have any ice cream, huh?” Dominic says.

“Nope.” Jesse shakes his head with great vigor. “I know I'm not allowed to eat ice cream until after lunch.”

“So those brown stains on your T-shirt? Is that . . .” Dominic leans
forward and examines them. “Coffee? Have you been drinking coffee?”

“I just let him have a tiny sip,” says Emma. “I'm so sorry. He spilled my coffee all down his T-shirt. Right, Jesse?”

“I'm really sorry, Dad. It was hot and I spilled.”

Dominic grins. “It's okay, buddy. Come on. Let's get Hobbes inside and get this cat flap installed. And it seems there may be some new shelves that need putting up?”

•   •   •

The rest of the day is punctuated by the intermittent sounds of the drill as Dominic installs the cat flap in the back door, before putting the shelves up in the kitchen, Emma handing him each drill bit or bracket as he needs it. Jesse spends his time playing with the kitten, rolling up strips of aluminum foil into balls and shrieking with delight as Hobbes bats them into the corners of the room, sliding across the floor as she skids toward them.

“If I'd known a kitten would make him forget about the iPad,” Dominic says, whispering under his breath, “I would have gotten him one years ago.”

Emma smiles as she unwraps hardware and hands it to him. “It's not about what happened,” she says. “It's what happens next.” She blushes slightly, realizing how this comment, one of her standard lines, could be misinterpreted.

“So what happens next in your life?” says Dominic, reaching up to position a shelf. His T-shirt rides up, exposing the tanned skin on his stomach and waist, and Emma, flushed with guilt for noticing, quickly looks away.

“What do you mean? Work? Well, I just posted some stuff today
about helping people out with interior design. Hopefully that will lead to something.”

Dominic glances at her with a grin. “I didn't mean work. How does a woman like you end up single? Who's the unlucky guy who let you get away?”

In anyone else, Emma would think it was a leading question, but from Dominic, who is so comfortable with who he is, it is entirely natural that he would say whatever is on his mind. “Do you say that to all your tenants?” Emma laughs. “Is that your way of flirting with me?”

“Only a little,” says Dominic. “I can't help it. I'm Italian. It's my way of making friends. But seriously, you seem like you should be married with a couple of kids, baking chocolate chip cookies for the school bake sale.”

“You know, I really think you should have quit while you were ahead,” says Emma. “You went straight from saying I was cute to comparing me to a suburban housewife from the last century.”

“Listen, some of these local housewives are hot. I'm telling you, I would never say anything derogatory about housewives.”

“So it was a compliment?”

“Absolutely. But you are single, right? I assumed you were only because there are no comings and goings here.”

Emma sighs. “One of the downsides of having your landlord live next door.”

“Maybe, but look at the upsides!” He gestures to the shelves.

“Granted. No, there are no men right now. There have been too many recent changes in my life for me to focus on relationships. I just need to settle into my new life before I'm ready for that stuff.”

“When you are ready, you just let me know. I'll tell you all the places to go to meet the single men, which nights, and what to avoid.”

“The Fat Hen?” She is joking, but she feels a slight pang. Suddenly she's not sure she wants Dominic to send her off to meet the single men.

“Nah. You don't want to meet men at the Hen. Not the kind of men you'd want to spend quality time with. I might be the bartender, but in all honesty I'd have to say that.”

Emma pauses, not sure she should be asking, but she wants to know; now seems like the perfect time. “How about you? You're dating Gina?” She tries to make the question seem casual. Light. As if she doesn't much care.

“Dating.” He seems to muse over the word. “I hadn't even really thought of it as dating. Gina isn't really someone you date. I guess you could just say we're hanging out together. We've known each other a long time. It's . . . fun.”

“Sometimes the relationships that grow out of long friendships are the very best of all,” says Emma.

Dominic laughs. “This is definitely not a relationship. I'm not even sure that it's fun a lot of the time. Gina is one tough woman, but . . .” He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it's fine for right now. Neither of us wants anything more serious.”