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I am going to murder my mother .
Cat jabbed out the short message and punched ‘Send’. She slipped the phone back into its hiding spot amidst the autumn garland on the mantle before Katherine spotted it and lectured her on proper hosting etiquette. She knocked back the rest of her drink, grimacing at the gut-punch sweetness. God. Her mother even managed to ruin a simple cocktail.
“Kitty, darling, only heathens chug.”
My God. She squeezed her fingers around the drained glass, ice sliding and clinking, and wished it was her mother’s neck. Hell, if she made it through the evening without strangling her mother, it would be a miracle. A nice, family Thanksgiving? Cat had been a fool to pander to drunken wistfulness.
She clenched her teeth hard enough to warrant a five-thousand dollar dental bill, and smiled at her mother, who hovered between the dining room and formal living room with a glass of god-awful something in her hand. “Yes, Mother.”
The phone buzzed, jittering on the mantle. Her mother lingered in the room, a lifetime of reproach carved into her craggy face, before she marched out of sight, undoubtedly to scrutinize the rest of her home for some imaginary infraction. Cat rolled her shoulders, sloughed off decades of maternal disappointment, and grabbed her phone to check the message.
Is immediate legal counsel required? I still have Lucy’s number.
Kara. Her savior. She tapped out a quick message. Have her on standby . Happy Thanksgiving .
You, too, Cat. If you need anything, call.
Bolstered by the short exchange — funny how Kara always managed that — Cat placed her phone back onto the mantle and went into the kitchen. Carter crouched in front of the oven, face smushed against the small window and hands cupped around his eyes. He turned, eyes wide, when she set her glass on the counter with a thunk.
“You scared me! I thought you were…” Carter glanced around the kitchen. “Never mind. When will dinner be ready? I’m starving.”
“Sorry, kiddo.” Cat looked at her watch. Half past seven. Her mother expected dinner to be served at eight like some damn Victorian society woman. Damn her mother. Damn this whole ruse. And, damn herself for trying to impress her. “Another half hour. At least. ”
Her stomach grumbled, long and loud in the quiet kitchen, reminding Cat her last meal had been a bag of peanut M&Ms six hours ago and causing a grin to spread across Carter’s face. He patted his own stomach. “Mine’s been barking since four.”
“Grab a slice of pie to hold you over until dinner. The roast still needs to cook. I think.”
A roast instead of turkey. All because her snobbish mother refused to eat a bird who couldn’t perform the simple task of sustained flight. To her mother, turkeys represented the dregs of society who squandered their potential. What the hell was Cat trying to prove with this farce? That she was worthy of her mother’s time? The only thing her mother deemed her worthy of were snide aspersions veiled as motherly advice. She rubbed her temples, hoping to stave off a migraine.
“Really? Thanks, Mom.” Carter hugged her, bussed her cheek, and ran to the fridge, snatching the pumpkin pie from the shelf and a knife from the counter. Waving the knife, he flashed her a smile. “Want a piece?”
Regret pulsed through her. Happiness was a kind, caring son. Thanksgiving should have been just the two of them. She could have invited Kara, too. “Actually, yes. I’ll have a slice.”
Cat grabbed two small plates from the cabinet and passed them to Carter so he could top them with pie. They huddled near the counter, giggling like two children sneaking cookies before dinner. Pumpkin wasn’t her favorite, but her son loved it. He inhaled his slice in three bites before Cat even took her first, licking the fork as he finished. Silently, she pushed her plate over.
“Here. You eat. I need to check the roast.”
“But, Mom, you —”
“I’m fine. Go ahead.” Cat waved off his protests, armed herself with mitts, and cracked the oven open to check the roast. A darkened plume of erupted from the roast. Cat coughed and waved the smoke away. Worried about the blackened top, she yanked it from the oven and dropped it onto the trivets. Guess it didn’t need more time, after all.
She slipped her gaze to her son. “What do you think? Still good?”
“Uh, looks a little crispy," he mumbled, cheeks filled with pie.
Cat grabbed her unused fork and poked the roast. 'Crispy' was an understatement. The tines scratched into the char. Bits of carbon flaked off into the jus pooled in the bottom of the pan.
“Your life expectancy past twenty would drop eighty percent if I served this.” She eyed the carving knife and briefly contemplated serving it to her mother. “I need a hazmat suit just to stand near it.”
She ripped off the oven mitts, slamming them onto the counter. The only thing worse than failing in her mother’s presence was genuinely trying and failing. She hung her head. Katherine spewed pompous ridicule no matter the occasion, even more so if Cat was on the receiving end, but trying to impress and falling short would only reassert her mother’s perception of Cat as an inferior, lackluster… everything.
“Mom, we still have mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, mac ‘n cheese, and sweet potato casserole.” Cat looked at her son who held up his empty dessert plate. “And, pie. It’s fine, and I can’t wait to eat it.”
“Set the table and find your grandmother. I’ll toss this and warm up the sides.” She reached out and tousled Carter’s curls.
“You got it.”
She watched her son gather the stack of plates set aside for dinner, cloth napkins, a handful of cutlery, and stride out of the kitchen, leaving Cat alone in the kitchen with the burnt stench of failure. She turned and glared at the roast. Picking up the pan, she drained the juices into a bag and sealed it before she flipped the pan over, eyeing the roast as it fell into the trash.
_______________
Candles flickered atop the table, casting a warm, but dim, glow throughout the dining room. Cat regretted them immediately when they carved the wrinkles of Katherine’s face even deeper, veiling her in sinister shadows. The stench of smoke had escaped the kitchen and lingered around them.
Katherine headed the table, at her insistence, with Carter to her right and Cat to her left. There wasn’t a turkey, or in their case, a roast, but it didn’t matter. She had studied every gram of every recipe until she could recite them in her sleep and cooked her ass off, patting herself on the back each time she pulled a dish from the oven. Except for the roast, it looked fantastic. Cat piled her plate high with a bit of everything as Carter did the same.
“Mother, your plate is empty. Would you like anything?” Cat motioned to the food scattered about the table and grabbed a spoon out of one of the dishes. “How about some stuffing?”
“Oh. No, darling. I dined earlier at Tilly Alcott’s fete. Have you heard of her? No, I suppose not. You two run in different circles. She’s more of an intellectual type. She hosted a group from the publishing house to celebrate her new book.” Katherine took a sip from her cocktail. “Her cook prepared a lovely —”
“But, Mother, I thought —” Her thoughts were such a jumbled mess, Cat didn’t know what she thought. All of the hours poring over cookbooks. The sweat she spilled in the kitchen. Her fingers tightened around the spoon. Bits of bread slid from the spoon and fell back into the stuffing. “I cooked. For you. I —”
“I cannot be held responsible for your silly inclinations. I did not ask for you to cook, Kitty. I certainly did not ask for you to serve this.” Her mother gestured to the food around her. Cat glanced at the food. As if Katherine word’s had ripped the sheen off, the mashed potatoes suddenly looked lumpier and less creamy than a minute ago, the green bean casserole a little soupier, the stuffing more gloopy, the sweet potatoes a more radioactive orange. “Tilly served an avant garde interpretation of the classics.”
Placing the spoon down, Cat plucked the napkin from her lap and wiped her mouth. There was nothing to wipe away — she hadn’t even managed a bite — but she needed time. Time to pull herself together, time to let her mother’s disregard roll off her back. Instead, her barbs burrowed underneath Cat’s skin.
Why had she even tried? What had compelled her to think this time would be any different? For fifty years, her mother had demanded perfection and Cat had always fallen short. Her 'silly inclinations', as her mother called them — clawing for purchase in a man's world, climbing atop a media empire, reigning from a throne of influence — meant nothing. A table of home-cooked food? Laughable.
"If you wanted an edible meal, you should have catered, dear."
Silverware clattered to the table, startling Cat. Carter slammed his fists onto the table, napkin bunched in one hand. He glared at Katherine.
"Enough!"
"Carter…" She reached across the casseroles and covered his clenched fist. "It's fine."
"No! It's not 'fine', Mom." He slipped his hand from hers and stood, shoving the chair back from the table. It tipped and crashed into the wall. "For seventeen years, I've witnessed you hurl constant insults at my mom. She doesn't deserve that. She works hard, has won countless awards, makes a difference. You? You just read someone else's words, hoping for errors, probably so you can feel a speck of superiority, and wishing you had an ounce of their talent. You are nothing but a raging bitch."
Stunned, Cat watched as her son threw his napkin onto the table and stormed from the room. Pride warred with shame within her. Pride, because her quiet, unassuming son, who never had a harsh word for anyone, had stood up for her, but shame that she couldn’t stand up for herself quickly followed.
Fiery, red splotches crawled past her mother’s pearls, up her neck and into her cheeks, a tight-lipped smile frozen on her face. The little girl she had once been, the one who had spent an entire childhood scrounging for scraps of her mother’s affection and approval, recoiled in self-preservation, but Cat resisted the urge to cower. She would never allow this woman to belittle her again.
"You've raised an insolent brat,” Katherine said, chuckling, a noise that grated on Cat’s already frayed nerves.
"No, Mother, I've somehow managed to raise a wonderful young man who is smart, talented, and kind-hearted. By some miracle, I've salvaged a beautiful soul from the bitterness of my life. Over the years, you have made it perfectly clear that you consider being a part of our lives beneath you. I’m — no, we’re — done trying, Mother. You are no longer welcome here. Please, leave."
Cat pushed from the table, unable to stomach her mother's presence any longer. Rage simmered through her veins. With trembling fingers, she brushed her palms down her dress, smoothing the wrinkles. The familiar action soothed her nerves for a moment and let her regain a modicum of control. When would she learn?
Marching to the door, she waited for her mother to gather her things. Katherine approached, clutching her purse, with a self-righteous smirk plastered onto her face. Cat would forever be just a tiny ant to be stepped on.
Snatching her mother’s coat off the hook in the foyer, Cat jerked open the door and ushered her mother through by shoving the garment into her chest. The sneer fell from Katherine’s face and as she opened her mouth, presumably to bombard Cat with more contempt, Cat slammed the door in her mother’s face.
The deafening crash echoed through the house. She slumped against the door and rubbed her tired eyes as her lingering adrenaline ebbed away. God, that was satisfying. She wished she could have seen her face as the door rattled in its frame, inches from her nose.
Cat pushed from the door and crossed to the fireplace. The fire had dwindled to just embers as if it was ready for the night to end, but the night wasn’t over. A table of cold, uneaten food waited to be portioned into containers and stuffed into the fridge while a sink full of dishes needed to be washed. Then she could crawl into bed, curl into a ball, and pretend she wasn’t crying.
Digging through the garland, she rescued her phone from the mantle and checked her messages. Nothing, which meant she didn’t have any excuse to ignore the mess in the dining room and kitchen. Damn. Kara hadn’t even bothered to, well, bother her. God, how she wanted to be bothered. When had Kara morphed from a marginally competent assistant into, well, a friend? Or was it more? Different. Cat didn’t have friends.
She drummed her fingers against the phone. She should text Kara. Or would that seem too needy? The night had been a disaster from its ill-conceived start to its fiery finish, destined to crash and burn the moment she invited her mother.
“Mom?”
“Hm?” Cat glanced up from her phone. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her. She put the phone down and crossed to her son, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, honey. Are you okay?”
Carter wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. When had her baby gotten so tall? She remembered when his hugs only reached her knees. God, that seemed like only yesterday.
“I’m fine. I was worried about you.”
She rubbed his back in soothing patterns. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I wouldn’t expect a savings bond for Christmas or your birthday, though. Or graduation.”
“I can live with that,” he mumbled. He squeezed her shoulders and released her.
__________________
The phone had been quiet for hours. Kara drummed her fingers against her cell as she paced her apartment from window to kitchen, dodging arm chairs and tables with each meandering lap. No calls. No texts. No Cat. Was that a good sign? Kara huffed, the rush of air fanning her bangs. No. Mixing Cat with her mother was a recipe for disaster. Or bloodshed. And Kara wasn’t all that sure that Cat would come out on the winning side.
Maybe she should send her another message, just to check up on her. It was already after nine. Their dinner was probably over by now.
“Okay, spill it.”
“Huh?” Kara stopped pacing and ripped her eyes away her phone. Eliza blocked her path, arms crossed and one brow perfectly arched in that unique, mother-knows-all way. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Eliza reached over, prying the phone from her grasp, and waved it in her face. “This phone has been glued to your hand since dinner. That isn’t like you. But what has me really worried—” Eliza ambled over to the dining table, picked up a plate of uneaten pie, and returned, thrusting it under Kara’s nose. “Is that you have completely ignored a dessert you once proclaimed to be the best in the galaxy.”
Normally, the aroma of toasted pecans and the soft, sticky, chocolatey filling would tempt her into first, second, and third helpings, but Kara took the plate from Eliza and set it on the side table without a glance. Walking over to the window, she unlatched it and shoved open the awning.
A brisk breeze whisked through the small crack as she stared into the city below. People wandered the streets, lugging armfuls of shopping bags, while a stream of headlights blinked by, accompanied by blaring horns. Christmas music faded in and out as if a door constantly opened and closed, muting the music. Sirens screamed from somewhere in the distance. She listened to it all, but not once did she hear Cat.
What had she expected? To hear Cat’s voice through all the noise? Kara dropped her head against the window pane and groaned. “It’s nothing. Silly.”
“Do I need to call Alex?”
“What? No!” Kara turned to Eliza. “The last thing I need is Alex back here to tease me. I barely made it through dinner with her sitting there, staring, assessing me over the turkey and cranberry sauce. Really. It’s nothing.”
“You’re not acting like it’s ‘nothing’.”
Eliza held out the phone. Kara took it and triggered Face ID, only to see she still didn’t have any messages. Damn.
Skirting around Eliza, she flopped onto the couch and watched Snoopy butter a stack of toast on the TV. Tapping the phone against her leg, she debated whether she should send another text. It had been hours since the last one, but Kara thought about the sport analogy Alex had tried to explain once. As she would say, the ball was in Cat’s court, now. She had told her to call if she needed anything, and she hadn’t called or texted so obviously she didn’t need her.
Agh! Kara tossed the phone onto the couch and thrust both hands into her hair. Why did she care so much? So what if Cat hadn’t called? It was Thanksgiving. She had a family. She was busy. Never mind that Cat’s mother was a callous hag and Cat was likely drinking herself into an angry stupor. If she needed her, she would have called.
The couch cushions dipped as Eliza sat next to her and patted her knee. “Are you seeing someone? Is that what has you all tied up in knots?”
“Seeing someone? As in dating? No, no. Me? Nope.” The thought was laughable. Her and Cat? Hah. Kara wasn’t even sure Cat considered her a friend. Kara had friends and they didn’t evoke this weird, squirrelly anxiety that danced in her stomach every time she thought of them. Friends also didn’t stare at each other’s lips and wonder about their softness. Not that she had meant to do that. Her eyes had just… slipped. “This is about Cat. My, well, she was my boss. I guess she kind of still is. You met her. Anyway, she invited her mother over for Thanksgiving. I’m just curious, you know, about how it went.”
“So, you barely touched your food, paced for hours, and ignored your favorite dessert because you’re curious. About Cat. And her mother.” Eliza reached out and caressed her cheek. “And that’s why your cheeks have bloomed a lovely shade of red.”
Kara leaned away from the touch, embarrassed, and scrubbed at the tingling in her cheeks. She refused to meet Eliza’s gaze. “You don’t understand. Cat’s mother is the worst. She’s awful. The few times I met her, she was incredibly rude and Cat is less than an afterthought to her. I’m just worried. That’s all. A little friendly concern.”
“So why not ask how her night went instead of sitting here wondering? Better yet, why don't you go see her?”
Kara shot off the couch and shoved her hands into her pockets. Go see Cat? Oh, she wanted to, but would she be welcomed? Could she take that risk? By flying, she would be there in seconds, would be able to see for herself that Cat was okay. Friends did that, right? Kara turned toward Eliza. "Should I?"
___________
Cat melted into the couch with a steaming mug of hot whiskey and gingerly rested her throbbing feet on the coffee table. The fire, having been coaxed back to health, flared brightly behind the fireplace screen, the final scraps of leftovers had been stuffed into the fridge, and the last of the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher. The night was winding down and she could finally relax. She could have left the mess for her housekeeper to clean up tomorrow, but she had been so incensed at her mother for successfully living down to her expectations, then at Kara for failing to maintain her overactive, and slightly nosey, puppy-like personality, that she had plunged her hands into the warm, soapy water and scrubbed until her fingers shriveled and pruned. She wished the soothing honey in her drink would also soothe her pruney fingers.
She sipped her whiskey — the near-scalding drink warmed her entire body — and eyed her phone. Where was the usual barrage of texts? Kara’s endless, prying questions? Kara knew of Katherine's dearth of personality and human decency, but Cat's phone had been silent since their well-wishes earlier in the evening. She needed a sympathetic ear, but Kara was probably too busy with her family — an actual loving one — for Cat to even cross her mind.
Cat rubbed her stomach. For some reason, the thought of Kara not thinking of her made her insides knot. It was a peculiar feeling, one she had not experienced in decades. Grabbing her phone, she decided to send a short message to Kara.
Carter rushed into the room with a bundle of board games spilling from his arms. Cat stopped typing mid-sentence and surveyed the tower of games that teetered in his grip. He sank to his knees sank on the floor in front of the coffee table and spread out the boxes. She groaned when he yanked the top off of The Game of Life first. A true to life game, her ass.
“Really? Haven’t I suffered enough?” Un-sent message forgotten, Cat dropped her phone on the couch and reluctantly dragged her feet from their resting spot so they had room to play the game. “Cut me some slack, hm? Why don’t we start with Pandemic? We can travel the world, eradicating diseases, instead of steadily accumulating debt and having mid-life crises.”
Unfolding the game board, Carter peered at her from underneath his curls. “No way! Watching you drive around the board making poor life decisions is a Thanksgiving tradition.”
He continued to unpack the cards and tiny pieces, arranging them around the board. Cat took a final sip of her drink then placed the empty mug on the sofa table behind her. She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. After the evening they had, if her son wanted to torture her like this, she would gladly let him. Plus, it would take her mind off Kara.
“Alright. You’re on.”
_________________
The doorbell chimed just as Carter finished counting his money, an unnecessary task since Cat visibly had no money. Cat pushed from the couch and pinned her son with a mock glare. “Okay. Put the pieces away. I don’t want to see this game for another year.”
He saluted her then he gathered all the pieces and put them in their respective compartments. "Let's play Mancala next."
Cat walked to the door, calling over her shoulder, "Think again!"
She peeked through the peephole, quickly unlocked the deadbolt, and swung the door open. "Hello. Hi."
What was Kara doing here? The unfinished text flashed in her mind. Had Cat's fingers slipped? Had she mindlessly hit send? Oh, God. She hugged the door to keep herself upright. What had it said? Had it been a rambling mess? A drunken mess? Or worse, a sappy, drunken mess full of feelings Cat was unable to articulate sober? No. She hadn’t been drunk, not after one honeyed hot whiskey. Drunk on loneliness, maybe, but not whiskey.
So what was she doing here? Cat's heart thudded heavily in her chest as she waited for Kara to speak, but Kara just fidgeted on the stoop, adjusting her glasses over rapidly blinking eyes and scuffing her toes against the brick stoop. Her mouth opened and closed as if she had something to say, but gulped it back at the second.
Seeing Kara at her front door, the peculiar feeling from earlier unknotted itself. The impulse to slam the door shut, to hide behind the door from her sudden, unmistakable realization of her affection and attraction for Kara seized Cat. Her fingers prickled as they twitched around the doorknob, ready to push.
Perhaps sensing her sudden discomfort, Kara shuffled forward, bracing her hand against the door, but remained outside. “Hi. I thought I'd stop by. I was, um, concerned.” Kara leaned to the side and glanced over Cat’s shoulder. “No blood, then?”
Cat cocked her head. Blood? “What — ? Oh! Don’t be ridiculous.” She stared at Kara, brow raised. “As if I would risk her bleeding on my new Tabriz. No, she left early but unharmed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Cat.” Kara stepped forward and reached out, hovering near Cat’s forearm still wrapped around the door, but dropped her hand before it made contact. “I had hoped…”
Cat’s hand tightened on the knob at the thought of her mother. “Well, then we both learned that, when it comes to my mother, hope is wasted. She was her usual self.” Cat swung the door wider. “It’s cold out. Please, come in.”
“Oh, it's fine. I just — I came to make sure you didn’t need my help. That’s all.” Kara backpedaled, pointing over her shoulder. “I’ll get going.”
Dread twisted Cat’s stomach. What game were they playing? This was Kara, her assistant. Well, ex-assistant. For years — decades — Cat had single-mindedly focused on the newspaper, the magazine, and building an empire while disregarding everything but the company and her son as she bulldozed her way to the top. Atop the summit, she had surveyed her life and found power and influence carried the price of immense loneliness, but somewhere along the way, between Kara’s overeager, fresh-out-of-university interview and tonight, Kara had become… more, and suddenly, the summit didn’t feel so lonely.
Carter shouted from the living room. “Mom! Are you ready?”
Keeping her eyes on Kara, who had paused her retreat, she called over her shoulder. “Be there in a minute!” She gazed into Kara’s eyes and, hopeful at the longing that lurked there, confessed, “I want you here. I’d love for you to stay. I promise dessert and games.”
The gravity of the implied offer settled between them. Did Kara sense the invitation promised more than pie and games, that it meant more for them if she accepted? They stood at a fork in the road and either path would change their relationship.
The pivotal moment ticked by in infinitesimal increments as she waited for Kara to decide. Steely glares from her board members didn’t hold half the power to turn her legs into quivering noodles as Kara’s silence. Cat studied her face but her normally open expression had shuttered.
Finally, Kara walked back up the sidewalk, smiling. “That sounds amazing."
As soon as Kara drew close enough, Cat reached out and linked their fingers. A flash of panic blindsided her the moment they touched. Her own mother didn't even love her. What made her think Kara ever could? She locked the insidious thought away, stowed it in the dark corner of her mind, and pulled Kara further into her home, shutting the door behind them.
Carter barreled into the foyer, sliding to a stop in his socked feet. "Kara!" Her son surged forward and grabbed their guest in a brief, but robust hug, breaking her and Kara’s link. "What are you doing here? Are you here to play games? I just demolished Mom in Life . She had a mid-life crisis, quit her job, and gambled all her money away. Her six kids —”
“Son, please.” Cat ruffled Carter’s curls. “Kara only just arrived. Let’s not barrage her with questions. Why don’t you go make some hot chocolate and heat a few slices of pie.”
“She’s staying? Yes! You got it! I’ll never say no to extra pie.” Her son slipped and slid out of the foyer, calling over his shoulder, “And, I’ll set up Risk ! We can gang up on Mom!”
Ninety percent of the time, Carter carried himself with maturity not all seventeen year olds possessed, but on nights like this, when he was snuggled in his pajamas and they were playing games, hints of her little boy still emerged. Dishes clattered from the kitchen a few seconds later.
“Are you ready for Risk? It’s not my favorite but...” Cat shoved her hands into her back pockets and shrugged. If her hands were free, she would be tempted to touch Kara again. “I must warn you. I’m very competitive.”
“Yeah?” Kara marched forward, walking Cat backwards until her hands, still stuffed into her pockets, bumped against the wall. Cat’s heart pounded as Kara tilted her head closer, whispering, “Don’t worry. You won’t scare me away. I can be ruthless when I need to be.”
“Great. Fantastic,” she breathed. Cat pulled her hands from her pockets. Her fingers whispered over Kara’s bangs, feathering the soft strands, and brushed down her temple and along her jaw as she recalled the first time she had touched Kara like this. It had been the result of a deep-seated instinct to comfort her but even then, Cat had known. They fit. The realization of all the missed time between them sucker-punched her. “What took us so long?”
“I don’t know.” Kara leaned into Cat’s touch, closing her eyes. “But let’s not waste any more time.”
“Today is a day of thanks, and I’m thankful you’re here. After the nightmarish dinner with my mother, I wanted so badly to see you. I should have called you but self-doubt stopped me.” Cat released her hold on Kara. “There have been many nights when I’ve picked up the phone, only to put it back down. I don’t know what it is about you, but you terrify me.”
“I terrify you?” Kara huffed an incredulous laugh. Inching closer, she slipped her hands into Cat’s, reestablishing their connection. “We make quite the pair.”
Missed moments weighed heavily between them like a pendulum, mocking Cat with each swing that amounted to wasted years. Her usual tenacity vanished when it came to Kara. Cat was sick of hesitating. “We’ve skirted around the obvious for years. No more allusions. I want to be with you.”
“As I said, we make an excellent pair. I agree.”
Kara grinned and used their linked hands to tug Cat forward until their chests pressed together, and their breath mingled. Her eyes darted to Kara’s slightly parted lips. Closing the gap between them, Cat held her breath as she lost herself in the thrill of Kara’s soft lips. An inferno ignited low in her stomach when Kara deepened the kiss.
Lips and tongues danced in a heated moment. Kara released their hands. The lost of contact caused Cat to moan. Surprised at the needy sound, she began to pull back, but the hands returned, this time low on Cat’s hips, warming her skin through her pants.
“Ew, gross! I was gone for like five minutes.”
Carter’s voice cut through the hazy cloud that fogged Cat’s mind. She pushed Kara away, breaking the kiss. Kara whimpered as if their separation physically pained her, and Cat was tempted to pull her back in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her son fighting a smile.
He continued, “The hot chocolate and pie are ready. And, because you two subjected me to the horror of seeing my own mother make out with someone, we’re playing Life, again.” Carter tapped his foot, eyeing them both. His socked foot didn’t have the effect he probably hoped for with its muffled thumps. He smiled. “Well, come on. We have games to play.”
Kara winked at her as they followed Carter into the living room where three plates full of pie were paired with steaming mugs. Cat couldn’t have imagined a better ending to such a terrible day.