This little kitty in between your legs, is mine

Cathleen's heels clicked against the porch as she left the sanctuary of the shaded swing, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground. The house loomed before her, its windows like judgmental eyes watching her every move. She exhaled sharply, squaring her shoulders against whatever awaited inside. This was just an accusation, and it’s not like I was pregnant. The thought was almost amusing to her.

As she pushed through the door, the coolness of the interior wrapped around her like a shroud. Her gaze landed on Xavier, his back turned, his movements meticulous as he cleared the remnants of their breakfast dispute from the table; everyone else was gone. Cathleen sighed. This wasn't the Xavier she knew—the one who lounged and left messes in his wake for others to clean. This man before her was doing dishes, handling China with care.

"There you are," Xavier said without turning, his voice echoing slightly off the tile. He dried a plate with a towel, the muscles of his forearms fl