Opposites Attract: An Enemies to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers Romantic Comedy (First Comes Love Book Camilla Isley (ebook reader screen TXT) 📖

come to the same conclusion. Now, another question poses itself before her: to argue and make the windbag fork his real half of the bill, or shell out a few more bucks and be rid of the cockroach at once?

Vivian’s nostrils flare, but she bites her tongue, saying nothing.

I can’t help but notice the fleeting flash of triumph crossing Mr. Novelist’s face. He must think himself quite the clever man, when in reality he’s the joke.

Christopher the Cheap grabs his jacket from the back of his chair and comes to stand next to Vivian.

“Sorry, there was no chemistry between us. These arranged trysts don’t always work out. But I had a very pleasant time with you, Vivian. I’ll send you a link to buy my book when it comes out. Have a lovely day.”

And with that closing line, he waltzes out of the restaurant.

Medusa’s reaction is to glare at me as if daring me to say or do anything. And, I know I’m being petty, but I can’t help but return the grimacing thumbs-up gesture.

We pay for our bills at the same time and share an elevator ride downstairs.

Medusa stares at me, clearly dying to say something.

I groan and snap, “Come on, spit it out.”

She tilts her head, giving me a fake-innocent smile. “I was just trying to picture you wearing a bright orange jumpsuit.”

“My date might’ve had trouble confusing terms, but at least she didn’t use every single word she knew every time she spoke. And the performance that windbag put up not to pay for his fair share of the meal was stellar. Guess he was really invested in living up to the struggling artist stereotype.”

“At least my date paid for some of the meal. Thirty bucks is better than nothing; yours was a total freeloader.”

We’re still arguing as we exit the museum and step on the curb outside.

I eye her high heels dubiously. “Are you taking a cab home?” I ask her, realizing for the first time that I have no idea where she lives. Is she in Manhattan like me, or Brooklyn, or somewhere else entirely?

“Yup,” she says. “I’m not walking in these.” She wiggles a foot at me.

“Didn’t think so,” I say, trying not to get distracted by the magenta stiletto. My deranged brain at once wonders if her underwear matches the dress, or the heels, or neither. I swear, one glimpse of lace has doomed me for life.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch an empty cab coming our way, and raise my arm before she can.

When the taxi stops next to us, I open the door before Vivian can object and wave at her to get inside. Whatever her idea of me, I’m not uncivil. I had exactly one slip-up the first time we met, and now she’ll hold that single, stress-fueled moment of bad temper against me forever.

Medusa seems surprised by my kind gesture as she gets into the car. “Thank you,” she says. And then she has to ruin it by adding, “Bye-bye, inmate.”

And, poor manners or not, before closing the door on her, I hiss, “I wish you a rather excrementitious rest of your day.”

Nineteen

Vivian

The cab’s door slams shut, and I can’t help smiling. The man, if nothing else, makes me laugh. I tell the driver my address and, as the car pulls into the street, I give a brooding Lucas a little wave through the window.

I’d be hard-pressed to decide which date was worse: mine, or his. But I keep laughing in my head throughout the entire cab ride as I remember snippets of his conversation with Sonia. If not for Lucas, lunch would’ve been utterly cheerless. Misery truly loves company.

At home, the moment I unlock the door, I’m welcomed by an avalanche of teenage angst. Tegan launches into my arms with a tear-streaked face, wailing, “Mom!”

All the worst-case scenarios shuffle through my brain at once: cyberbullying, alcohol again, Tegan’s pregnant…

“What?” I ask, agitated. “What happened?”

“Priscilla,” Tegan says. “She’s gone! I swear I left the door open only for a second, because I didn’t have enough change to pay the delivery guy, and she must’ve slipped through. But by the time I noticed, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I’ve asked all our neighbors, but no one has seen her.”

Okay, an MIA cat I can deal with.

“Don’t worry, honey,” I say, hugging her to my chest. “Priscilla has her collar with our address and phone number. I’m sure someone will find her.”

“But Prissy has never been out on her own. What if something happens to her?”

“Let me get changed, and we can go look for her. Why don’t you print a flyer with her picture, and we’ll make copies at the shop around the corner and distribute them around the neighborhood.”

“On it, Mom, you go get changed. Be quick. We can’t lose any more time.”

***

After an afternoon spent plastering our block with pictures of our missing cat, Tegan and I come back home tired and miserable and still cat-less, only to find the lost feline impatiently waiting for us on the front steps. Priscilla stares us down, swaying her tail back and forth as if annoyed we’re late for her usual dinnertime.

Tegan doesn’t seem to mind the cat’s airs, and rushes to scoop her into her arms. “Prissy!”

The cat is further rewarded for her disappearing act with a shower of kisses.

Shaking my head, I herd both cat and human into the house, where the three of us spend the evening snuggled on the couch watching a romantic movie and just plain appreciating being together.

But I can’t concentrate on the plot. My attention keeps drifting to Tegan and the way she’s holding Priscilla tight to her chest and cuddling the cat non-stop. And I can’t help but wonder if her reaction today was normal. Yes, people get attached to their pets and consider them almost human, like a member of the family. But Tegan was desperate, anguished, grief-stricken. A hard question pops into my head: does Tegan have abandonment