“Yes, he—” I heard a small meow. The elusive Mr. Dashiell must have heard Tom’s voice.
“He has a pitiful voice for such a big cat,” I said.
“I still love him.” Tom pulled me to him and gazed down into my eyes. “But not as much as I love you.”
Before I could respond, he kissed me.
I liked the kiss, liked the words and liked how, when we came apart, four cats were staring up at us looking, well… happy.
Вы читаете The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon
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