The bang of the door echoes through the silent house as Trace coughs uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed by the couple’s quarrel he just witnessed.
“That didn’t go very well,” I admit, staring at the empty doorway.
He grunts in response.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, though. Once she‘s had a chance to think about it.”
“Mm,” he agrees, apparently unconvinced.
“What?” I ask, turning to him. “You don’t think so?”
“Justin…” he begins hesitantly. “I don’t want to make you feel any worse, but…don’t you realize there’s the chance she won’t come?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, turning to him and placing my hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Of course she’ll come. She can’t just stay here. We’d have to break up.”
Trace shifts uncomfortably, as though he hates to be the one to tell me this. “Exactly.”
Fear grips me as I throw another glance in the direction of the slammed door. What if she truly doesn’t come with me? Would that just be the end of Justin and Cat?
No, no, it can’t be. The idea is just unfathomable. People like us strived to be together in the beginning, we overcame all the obstacles in our way, we’re modern day martyrs for true love…we don’t just break up.
“No…no, that’s out of the question,” I stutter quickly, the pressure of the situation dawning on me.
“I don’t want to worry you, man,” says Trace, holding up his hands in defense. “I’m just saying, this is a situation you really need to be careful about. You know how Cat is…always the big feminist.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, casting my gaze over the window to the frosty land outside. “I’m sure she’ll come round though, right?”
Trace is silent for a moment, twiddling his thumbs and staring at them intently. “I hope so.” He stops the steady whirling of his fingers too look at me. “As I said, be careful.”
“She’s just mad at the moment,” I say reassuringly, more to myself than Trace, who shoots me a disbelieving look. “She’ll be fine when she gets back from work.”
Trace snorts, unconvinced. “She might not be so angry, but remember what you’re asking of her, Justin. She has every right to be mad or upset.”
“I know, and I knew it would be difficult…but don’t you think she’s overreacting just a little bit?” Trace shoots me a look that clearly says I either retract my statement or lose my right testicle. “No, I mean of course I understand this is a big deal for her, but Trace, she’s twenty two years old. She shouldn’t just be stuck in the same state for the rest of her life. She needs to go out and live a little.”
“That’s true,” he nods. “But you know Cat isn’t the sort of girl to throw everything up in the air and do something irrational. She likes to think things through, make sure the advantages outweigh the disadvantages, have everything planned. She’s not like us, Justin. She’s smart.”
Laughing, I pull the chair out opposite him and slide into it. “But don’t you think she should try being just a little more adventurous at times? You know, just…throw the rule book out of the window!” The wild gesturing of my hands causes Trace to frown at me.
“Well…I suppose Cat likes the rule book.”
“But what’s the worst that could happen? She doesn’t get a job and gets to do whatever she wants in one of the most amazing cities in America? Oh yeah, disaster.”
“You know how much she hates to feel useless. She has to be working and making her own money to be comfortable in her own skin.”
“I would take care of her,” I mumble quietly.
“I know you would, and so does Cat.” Trace sighs, and I sense a large, ‘but’ coming up… “But,” there it is… “that’s not what she wants. She wants her own life.”
I remain silent, idly scratching my finger on the wooden surface of the table. “So you don’t think she’ll come with me?”
Trace’s eyes sweep to the left, settling on a picture of me and Cat that I stuck on the refrigerator a few weeks ago. We were repainting the spare room, which of course resulted in more paint being splashed on each other than on the walls, and Trace took pictures of us as he played with his new camera. For once, Cat wasn’t whining about the fact someone was photographing her, and let Trace take as many pictures as he wanted. One particular picture of Cat and I laughing as I try to attack her with a paintbrush struck me as the perfect expression of our relationship. Fun, teasing, but underneath the surface of what people see--a private love for each other, that no one can touch.
“I hope she does, man,” Trace finally answers, tearing his eyes away from the picture. “I know she’ll regret it if she stays here.”
“I guess I’ll talk to her when she comes back from work.”
Trace sighs, sending another fleeting glance toward the photo. “You’d better make it good, Justin. The last thing you want to do is lose her.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Trying to keep my head below the line of the cubicles, I scurry into the office, my eyes cautiously darting around in search of my ever-present boss. If he sees me scuttling in ten minutes late, he will not be pleased. I’ve been on thin ice with him ever since he heard me mutter something along the lines of how sorry I felt for his wife and what a difference a lack of sex can make to a person’s personality under my breath.
Quickly throwing my purse down at my desk, I tear of my jacket and hang in on the back of my chair, trying to look as unflustered and “What? I’ve been here all along!” as I can.
“He already knows you’re late,” says Sean, his fingers working at a furious pace as he types up something on the computer.
“Oh shit,” I groan, throwing my forehead down on the table with a thud. “That really hurt,” I complain, lifting my head up and rubbing the sore spot.
He laughs, taking a break from his typing to swing around on his chair to face me. “Have a good lunch?”
“The worst,” I mutter, turning on my computer and sifting through a few sheets of research.
“Why? What happened?” asks Sean, scooting forward to listen to me in a comforting manner.
Oh no. The last thing I need to is for Sean to start being all nice and to reawaken those guilty feelings I’ve had for so long. After we broke up, he was surprisingly civil to me. I expected him to bitch and send me cold glares but no, he was perfectly mature and adult about it. He said that he understood that if Justin was what I wanted then so be it, and that he hoped we could still be friends.
It doesn’t take away the nagging shame I feel every time Justin calls the office, only for Sean to answer the phone. His face droops slightly, and he just hands the phone over to me with this sad expression on his face, before taking little glances at me every now and then. I can’t possibly grasp why, but I know he still cares for me, and that there are faint traces of his boyfriend feelings towards me that have to die out.
“Cat?” he says, attracting my attention and waving his hand in front of my face. “What happened?”
Taking a breath, I open my mouth. “Well, it’s just--”
“Catherine!” barks Mr. Karter, my not so lovable boss, his bushy gray eyebrows set in a frown. “You’re late!”
“I know, and I’m sorry, Mr. Karter,” I whimper pathetically, adopting my best ‘kiss ass’ tone. “My…my car, you see, it broke down.” Excellent thinking on the spot, I’d say.
“Catherine, you live fifteen minutes away,” he scolds. “Couldn’t you have walked?”
“Well…um, I did. That’s why I was late,” I reply triumphantly. Years of making up excuses has finally developed to such a point where I can do it on the spot.
He makes a strange, ‘humph’ sound, before turning away and briskly walking towards his office, leaving a giggling Sean and I. “Nice save,” comments Sean. “So, you were saying?”
“Oh, it’s just Justin…” I trail off at the visible bristling of Sean.
He tries to hide his emotions, but the tightening of his jaw and the vanish of his smile does little to hide the fact that his thoughts towards Justin are still a little frosty. “What did he do?” he asks in a clipped tone.
“You know,” I begin, already feeling awkwardness seep into the air. “This is wrong. With all that happened…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I ramble, turning back to my sheets as a blush creeps onto my face. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, what about myself? Things with Sean are difficult enough at times, without adding an in-depth chat about my relationship with the man that I dumped him for.
His hand reaches out and grazes my arm, and I briefly think back to a time when his touch would have sparked something inside of me. He was such a great guy, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him…but he just wasn’t Justin. “No, come on. We’re friends, we can talk to each other.”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, feeling his eyes spear through me. “But it’s just…”
“Cat, I’ve accepted the fact you and Justin are together,” he chuckles lightly, although it doesn’t quite reach his saddened eyes. “Perhaps I’m not Justin’s number one supporter, but my dislike for Justin is nothing in comparison to my friendship with you.”
He reaches out and clasps my hand, gently rubbing it. “And I promise I won’t pull the bitter ex boyfriend gag and try to convince you that you can do better, and then suggest myself as a candidate.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay.” Scanning the office for signs of my boss or any tell-tale employees, I discard the research to the side and pull my chair forward a little bit. “In short, Justin’s asked me to move with him out of Tennessee.”
Sean gasps, his facial expression quickly folding into a disapproving frown. “What? What the hell makes him think you’ll do that? God, that guy can be so...”
“Don’t,” I interrupt gently. “You have to promise you won’t let your previous feelings on Justin influence this conversation,” I order.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Elaborate.”
I shrug. “There isn’t much to elaborate on. He’s going back to his album, he can’t work from Tennessee, I either go with him or I don’t.” I give another shrug.
“But…” his eyes widen in indignation. “But…your job! Your friends! What does he expect you to do about all these things?”
“Give them up, I suppose.”
“And are you going to do that?” he asks, lowering his voice so to not attract any attention.
“Well that’s my problem,” I fume, running a hand through my hair. “On the one hand, I have Justin, who I love and would do almost anything for. But on the other…I have my career, my life. I can’t just give those up to suit him, can I?”
“No,” says Sean forcefully. “You worked too hard to be where you are to just give it up for some little boy with a high voice.”
“Sean!” I reprimand him. “I told you, this isn’t an outlet for all your Justin-hate. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it--” I begin, turning away slightly.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get carried away.” He holds up his hands in defense. “I’ll not say it again.”
Facing him again, I drop my head into my hands. “But do you really think that? Do you really think it’s too risky?”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “Cat, if you go with him, then…then I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”
Lifting my head from my hands, I frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve made this mistake once, right?” Sean vaguely guesses. We never really talked about past relationships, but he’s dimly aware of the Matthew situation. After my nod, he continues. “So why would you do it again? Honestly, why would you put yourself through that when you know the consequences?”
“Because…um…” I flounder helplessly, suddenly feeling as though I’m being interrogated by my mother for raiding the cookie jar. “Well, I lov…care about him.” Out of respect for Sean, I don’t feel the need to flaunt the strength of my feelings for Justin.
“So?” says Sean, as though this bears no significance. He leans forward, and it strikes me how bothered he seems to be getting about this. “Alright Cat, put these three things in order of importance; your career, children or marriage.”
Immediately, I know it’s a trick. Sean and I used to discuss how ridiculous some people were. Ruining their lives by getting too involved in high school romances and ending up bypassing college or an education, people always seemed to realize what they need too late. I always wanted children and marriage at one point in my life, and whilst I didn’t want to head down the single career bitch road and end up a spinster with fifty cats, I knew marrying young and ending up with seven children at twenty wasn’t for me. There were other things I had to do before.
“Career first, obviously,” I mumble.
“Exactly,” says Sean triumphantly, slapping his knee. “So why would you cross your morals by putting Justin before your job?”
“I could get another job,” I suggest, suddenly feeling very small. “It’s not as though there aren’t any newspapers in the cities.”
“But you have no guarantee.”
“Let’s say I don’t go, and Justin for some reason decides he won’t move unless I do, isn’t that me doing the same thing to him? Aren’t I jeopardizing his career as much as he is mine?”
Sean pauses. “Maybe.”
“And let’s face it, if it weren’t for me, Justin probably would have returned to work a long time ago.”
Sean leans back and sends me a disapproving look. “Don’t let him guilt you into going, Cat.”
“He wouldn’t, I’m just saying…” I trail off and tiredly rub my eyes.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just don’t want to see you making a decision you might later regret,” he says sympathetically, the edge coming off his voice. “You’re a clever girl, I don’t want to see you waste that for him,” he mutter spitefully.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I admit. “Maybe I’m too young to stay in the same place for such a long time, don’t you think? I’ve never actually lived in any big cities. It could be a good experience for me.”
“That’s the only reason I would suggest you go with Justin,” says Sean. “Other than that, I think you’d be giving up an awful lot.”
“Well, anyway…he mentioned it to me at lunch and I completely overreacted on him. Before he could even say a thing I was already running over his words with insults.” Placing my head in my hands regretfully, I mumble, “Why am I such a bitch?”
“Being a bitch pays off,” says a voice, causing me to lift my head and frown in confusion. Before me stands a stressed intern, his hair ruffled and messy, as though he’s run his hands through it a few times. “Mr. K said that the political thing you were going to do has been given to Stacey because he’s worried you’ll piss people off.”
“Me?” I feign shock. “Piss people off? My writing isn’t that controversial.”
“After that thing you said about that catholic church, just be happy you didn’t get shot.”
I shrug. “Anyway, he’s taking the article away?”
“Well, Stacey hasn’t done much work lately so he’s just reassigning it.”
“So can I go home?” I ask, my hand already inching towards my purse.
“Yup. It’s almost time for you to leave anyway,” the intern replies, shooting a quick look over at the clock.
“Great. Could you give these to Stacey please?” I ask, thrusting the research papers into his hands without waiting for a reply. “Thank you.”
The intern mutters something and quickly runs off as I slide on my coat over my black blouse, briefly checking my watch to see the time.
“You’re going to go home now?” says Sean incredulously.
“I may as well,” I reply, leaning over to switch off my unused computer. “I’ll just sit here and get worried if I don’t leave. The sooner we talk and get things sorted out, the better.”
“Have you decided whether you’re going or not?”
“Not a clue,” I mumble miserably, looping my scarf around my neck.
“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice,” says Sean, handing me my bag with a hopeful glint in his eye. “I would really miss you if you left.”
I didn’t know how to reply to him. Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze of buried and yet still there feelings and concern, I try to look everywhere except his face. I know there are still feelings for me underneath the surface, and perhaps even seeds of hope that we will get back together. He’s dated around a bit, getting a reputation as the greatest catch in the office, but nothing’s ever lasted. If he at least had a steady girlfriend I wouldn’t feel so guilty, or could at least feel comfortable in the fact that he was moving on.
“I’ll just do whatever I feel is best,” I reply, thinking that is the best answer I can give him.
Before he begins to tell me exactly what he feels the best choice is, I blurt out a goodbye and rush out of the office, leaving all of Sean and his opinions behind me.
-----
The house is silent when I enter, which immediately unsettles me. Justin and Trace are usually in the game room, cursing like troopers as they battle it out on one of the consoles, or in the kitchen making a mess as they try to cook dinner, or even in the back yard talking about gardening in low voices so that no one can hear them talking about something so ‘unmanly’.
“You’re back early,” calls Trace from the living room.
I walk in, taking off my scarf and jacket on the way. “I know. There was basically no work for me to do, so I thought I’d just come home.”
Trace nods as I fold my clothes over my arm awkwardly, remembering he had been in the middle, literally, of me and Justin’s heated debate. “Where’s Justin?”
“He went up for a shower.”
“Is he alright? I think I was a bit harsh on him,” I admit, watching Trace channel flick without much interest.
He shrugs. “You both had valid points.”
“Is he upstairs?” I ask, pointing towards the staircase with my finger.
Trace nods. “He got a little frazzled with your argument and he thought he should at least look good when you two talked it out, so he took a shower.”
I laugh, hanging up my coat in the hall closet and tossing my purse to the side. “I’d better go up and face the music, huh?”
“Made any decisions yet?” says Trace hopefully.
“No,” I mumble. “I’m so sick of making decisions, though. First it was Justin or Sean, now it’s this.”
“Well, you made the right choice last time, didn’t you?”
I fall silent, capturing very faint wisps of song. Justin is no doubt singing a wonderful collection of pop classics up in his shower as he cleans himself. He always sings in the shower, and occasionally dances, no matter how much I tell him it’s dangerous.
“Yes, yes I did,” I reply, smiling softly. Turning to the stairs, the smile becomes less bright. “I’m not trying to be a bitch here, Trace,” I explain, turning to him. “I’m just not the kind of person to give everything up for a guy.”
“I know,” he replies simply. “But this is Justin, Cat. He wouldn’t ask you unless he thought it was worth it.”
“I know,” I reply softly, his words playing on my mind as I slowly took the stairs one at a time.
Gently easing our bedroom doors open, I can’t stop the chuckle of laughter that escapes my mouth as the sound of Justin’s singing strengthens. I lean against the door, trying to pinpoint the song. I think it’s ‘Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone’, but with Justin, you never know, because he constantly throws in “Oh yeah, babaaay” and “Do wop do dee do” amongst the lyrics.
Deciding to wait until he’s out to make my presence known, I flop down on the bed, noting with some pleasure that Justin had made it. Presumably in an attempt to get into my good books, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
Feeling a rustle of paper underneath me, I frown and arch my back to feel underneath me. My fingers come into contact with some papers, and I pull them out to take a look at them. It looked like something printed off the internet, with various search engines at the top, with phrases like “newspapers in New York” or “publishing in California area” in them. Beneath this searches were lists of newspapers, with occasional ones highlighted with circles Justin must have done himself.
It must have taken him ages to find all this stuff. As I sifted through the pages, the searches got more specific, and Justin’s markings more advanced. He crossed out the tabloid ones, knowing a job at the National Enquirer is that last thing I would want. He circled companies with available positions, and put stars next to ones with higher salaries or kinder working hours. He had looked up all of this. For me. It made me want to cry.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Justin, still humming an Al Green song, strolled into the bedroom, a pale pink towel wrapped around his otherwise naked body. My eyes unconsciously start to intently focus on the rippling muscles reflecting the light, admiring the thin sheen of water from his shower still on his chest. His hair, still damp, is at the point where he’s threatening to cut it because it’s past an inch and a half long, so it’s not too long, but it’s just long enough for me to want to run my fingers through it.
By emerging from the bathroom half dressed and wet, he just made this situation ten times harder. It’s so much more difficult to concentrate on my anger when he’s looking quite so gorgeous. It’s sort of like when you go on a diet and you try to convince yourself that all processed food is digusting, but McDonalds start doing a buy one get one free deal on the same day and you end up buying ten Big Macs.
“Cat!” he exclaims, as he jumps at the sight of me. “Sweetheart, what are you doing back so early?”
“Got off work early,” I reply simply, putting down the bundle of sheets and trying very hard to tear my eyes away from Justin’s stomach. “I wanted to apologize for blowing up at you earlier on.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he waves off, not bothering to keep one hand securing his towel in place. If that towel falls off, I will not be held responsible for my actions. “Now that we’ve both calmed down, we can talk about it rationally.”
“Right,” I agree, wondering whether he can see I was staring at his chest throughout his entire speech. It really isn’t fair of him to be so naked when I’m trying to think straight. He clearly has an advantage already.
“Alright, let’s talk,” he says, leisurely lying down on the bed, propping his head up with his hand.
Jesus, why am I not having sex with this man 24/7? Did I not see his body before today? “Well Justin…um, yes, well, you know that my main concerns are, er…” I can actually smell him from over here. The overpowering scent of coconut from the lotions in the bathroom hits me as he lies opposite me, that adorably sexy clean smell just pouring out of him and wafting straight over to my sexually aroused senses.
He looks at me curiously. “Is something wrong? You look a little flushed.”
Well no wonder. I’m sure if he had some half naked girl in front of him he’d get a little hot. “Am I?” I question innocently, pressing my hand to my warm cheek.
“Yeah, you look a bit…hot.”
Well guess what, you look extremely hot. Especially now that you’re sitting up and leaning forward in a concerned way, so that your face is now all caring and sexy.
This is going to be one long talk.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I wasn’t expecting to see Cat sitting on our bed when I came out of the shower. I thought I had a little more time to perfect my begging speech in which she forgave me for shouting at her at lunch time and also said she’d move to the moon if I asked her. I had already started to try to look good by talking a shower and using all the nice body scent stuff that she loves to smell.
But she got back from work early. Perhaps it’s for the best. This way, we won’t bullshit each other, we’ll just be honest and tell each other how we feel. But she can go first.
“I’m not hot, I’m just…” she trails off and shrugs, one finger attacking her hair and raveling strands of hair around her finger. Doesn’t she seem a little nervous?
“Anyway, what did you want to say?”
“Oh yes, right, of course,” she rambles, bending her head down and hiding her face as her brown hair tumbles in front of it. But even behind the curtain of waves, I can see her eyes steal a quick glance at chest.
Ah, I see. Let's hope my choice to remain scantily clad will influence her decision for the better. “I was talking with Sean about this, and--”
“What?!” I screech, shocking her with the volume of my protest as any 'I'm so sexy' thoughts fled from my head. She talked to Sean about this? Jesus, why don’t I just pay her to dump me. Going to Sean for advice when she was in doubt of our relationship would be like going up to Hitler and saying, ‘Hey, those Jews, what did you think of them?’ I can’t believe she spoke to that stupid twinkly eyed turd about our relationship. All my hopes are ruined.
“Don’t worry, he was perfectly democratic.”
“Was he?” I snort disbelievingly.
She rolls her eyes at me and carries on as though nothing had been said. “I just wanted you to realize what I would have to give up to move. I’ve lived here for almost five years, and in that time I’ve gotten a job, a few friends I won’t just be able to wave goodbye to, and a lifestyle that I’ve grown accustomed to. You can’t just expect me to throw that all up in the air,” she says in an exasperated tone.
“I know what I’m asking of you is a lot, Cat. I truly appreciate the fact you’ve lived here for quite a while now, and that leaving it hasn’t seemed a priority, but I’m just asking you to consider it. You’ve never liked Tennessee that much anyway, and this would be your chance to travel, try new things.” She gives me a feeble shrug. “You always say living in the south is like living the life you’re going to lead when you’re in retirement, but you could leave all of that for a trendier lifestyle with more to do for younger people. Christ Cat, you’re twenty two. When was the last time we went to a club?”
“I just don’t like clubs,” she defends.
“Well, when did we last go out for drinks at a nice bar? When were we last able to go sightseeing? When was the last time there was excitement in this town? Don’t make yourself old before you have to, Cat.”
“Justin, that is not what I’m worried about,” she says. “I’m more worried about going out to some strange place and not being able to find a job, or breaking up with you and being left on my own, unable to support myself. Not to mention the fact we’re far more susceptible to the press.”
I shrug helplessly. “That would happen anywhere.”
“The media is just one small nuisance in the face of far more worrying things. What if I couldn't get a job?"
I snort. “You could find a job easily, and if you couldn’t, then I could always give you a job. In fact, if you weren’t working, then that would make it a lot easier for me to take you with me if I went on tour. That way you’re being productive, but we get to spend time together.”
“Doing what?” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know,” I shrug, readjusting my towel and immediately attracting her gaze to my lower half. “There are always odd jobs like sewing, or…what?”
A horrified expression had crossed her face. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she says sarcastically. “I just can’t believe I’m being given the liberty of sewing.” She lets out a snort and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Honestly Justin, what is this? 1942? Get the little lady to make a nice tapestry whilst you go out and earn the bacon?”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was just a casual, offhand suggestion.” Although, it was kind of sexist, now I think about it. “My point is, I understand your career is important to you--”
“Very important to me,” she stresses.
“Yes, very important, but so is mine to me. I know I wouldn’t be able to do an album without you Cat.” Reaching out, I gently touch her hand. “I need your support, otherwise I won’t be able to do this,” I whisper, knowing I sound a lot more vulnerable than I wish I was.
“You have my support,” she say quietly. “There are just a lot of things that could potentially go wrong.”
"It wouldn't be our relationship if things didn't."
She smiles slightly, nodding her head in agreement.
“And no matter what happens, if the papparazzi get on our case or you can't find a job, we’ll always have each other to fall back on,” my grip on her hand tightens reassuringly. “And I got some information for you about some newspapers…” I begin, looking around the covers for my stack of papers.
“I know, I got them,” she says, holding up the papers.
“Look, here are the ones that are accepting employees at the moment,” I say, the desperation in my voice not as hidden as I wished it was as I point to the pages. “And these are the ones that balance pressing issues with gossip, which I thought you’d like better than straight gossip or straight spreadsheet,” I ramble helplessly, pointing at the random sheets.
“I know,” she says gently, placing a hand to steady my rapidly moving arm. “I can see you put a lot of effort into those. It was really sweet of you to look these up for me.”
“Cat, I’m never going to leave you in the dark,” I reply, putting the papers to the side and inching forward slightly. “I care about you and your feelings, and I wouldn’t put us at a risk by just throwing us out there.” I shrug. “If this broke us up Cat, then it would be the end of something great.”
“It’s not going to break us up,” she says softly, looking down at the research I found. She sighs. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
My eyes widen with surprise as my heart jumps for joy. “Are you being serious?”
She smiles and nods.
“Oh my god Cat, this is so fucking amazing! You’re so fucking amazing!” I scream happily, running around to her side of the bed to pick her up and swing her around, much to her protest.
“Justin, put me down!” she squeals as I place two feet firmly on the floor. “Don’t get too excited, okay? This is just going to be the beginning of a long line of problems,” she warns, wagging her finger at me.
“Fine!” I declare happily. “We’ll make it through the rain, hot stuff,” I say happily, grabbing her hand and leading her around a crazy waltz in the room. “We’re going to live happily ever after.”
She laughs, holding onto my tightly as I spin us around the room. “Just be warned, Timberlake, if I don’t get a job or you screw something up, I’ll crucify you.”
“You’ll get a job super fast, and I won’t do a thing,” I promise, dipping her down in the classic dance pose.
“I know you won’t," she says, clinging onto my neck as my hands support her back. "And I know you love me, and you know I love you. But for God’s Sake, put some clothes on.”
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