“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.
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