Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Time for me to get back to life.

I look at the cat again.

He looks back at me.

“Excuse me.” I stick to my whisper. “But I need to get up.”

The cat just blinks at me.

“Please.” I lift my shoulder, jostling him a bit.

He lowers his head and licks his paw.

“Stubborn little thing.”Just like his owner.

Nathan makes another sound, then he starts to move.

Still asleep, he shifts toward me, rolling me onto my back.

“The cat!” I shriek, not wanting to crush him.

Nathan jolts at my outburst, but he’s already on top of me.

And the cat, as I should have known, jumped out of the way.

“What?” Nathan’s voice is full of sleep, and it’s stupidly attractive.

“The cat was on me,” I explain, but my words are muffled because Nathan’s heavy weight is pressing down on my chest.

He lifts his head to look down at me, then plants a hand on the mattress and lifts some of his weight off my ribcage. “Cat…” He glances past me to where I assume the feline is on the floor. “Oh, sorry about that.”

“What? No, I didn’t mind the cat. I just didn’t want you to smoosh him.” I plant a hand against Nathan’s chest. “Like you’re smooshing me.”

Nathan leans his body back against mine, trapping my hand. “Can’t have any smooshing.” Then he presses his lips to my forehead.

Something tightens around my lungs, and it has nothing to do with the body on top of mine.

Forehead kisses are playing dirty.

The cat meows loudly.

Nathan groans and rolls off me, flopping onto his back. “Dude, it’s literally hours before your breakfast time.”

The cat meows again.

It’s different from the first one, and I have a feeling he’s disagreeing with his human.

I push myself up to sit and look down at the gorgeous animal. “What’s his name again?”

“Charles.” Nathan yawns. “The animal shelter had listed his name as Caramel, but I could tell he didn’t like it.”

I bite down on a smile as I study the cat and find I have to agree. Charles is much too sophisticated to be a Caramel.

As though he knows what I’m thinking, Charles sits up straighter in what can only be called aregalposture.

I sigh.

I need to leave before I never want to go.