“I put some food out for this cat I keep seeing.”
“Babe, if you do that, we’re gonna have a shitload of stray cats hanging around outside.”
“She looked sad. I just couldn’t let her starve,” she defends. “She doesn’t have tags or anything, and it’s cold and rainy outside. The least I could do was leave out some food.”
I laugh at her, but love her soft heart, so I don’t say anything else about it.
Kissing the top of her head, I tell her, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
After we stop by and visit with Roxy for a while, we head over to Dr. Christman’s office for our appointment. We’ve continued to see her twice a month, and Candace has still been keeping her weekly appointments on top of what we do together. She’s been working hard and talking more to me about the rape and how she’s trying to process it. She still blames herself, but I can’t get down on her for that because I still blame myself as well.
She did come off of her sleeping pill back in the beginning of September, but a couple weeks ago, she had another terrifying nightmare and immediately started taking her pills again even though Dr. Christman wanted her to continue on without them. I understand Candace’s fear of her dreams. That nightmare freaked her out, and she wound up making herself sick, vomiting several times afterwards.
After seeing Jack at the bar, she was scared to come back there. I wound up telling her about the subpoena and going to see him. She was having a hard time believing that he was really dead, so I found out where he was buried and took her to show her that she didn’t have to be scared of him anymore—but she still is.
Candace has been busy ever since we got back in town from spending Halloween in Astoria with my cousins a couple weeks ago. It was a short trip, but Candace had fun with the kids, and I had fun watching my strawberry go door to door with Bailey, helping her fill her bag with candy. Candace even got some candy herself at a few houses that just assumed she was a kid. We all teased her about her size, and she took it like a champ, but she’s used to it from Mark. The two of them banter like brother and sister, and I’m starting to see that same connection building with her, Tori, and Trevor.
This past week has been crazy while Candace has been having costume fittings and dress rehearsals. But tonight is her first performance, and seeing her meddle around the loft, trying to keep her nerves in check, I think back to the last time—the only time—I saw her dance. I was alone, miserable, fearing I’d lost her for good. I watched her dance for the first time while I was hiding in the back of the theater, wishing I could have been with her, and now I am. This is the way it should have been the day of her performance in college, but I’m getting my moment now. And savoring every minute of it.
We ran out of bananas this morning, so she sent me out to grab a few since she worries about muscle cramps. When I get back from the store, a tiny white and tan cat greets me. No doubt, Candace’s little buddy, waiting for her next meal. I walk past it and let myself in.
“Your friend’s out front,” I say as I walk through the room and into the kitchen to set the bag of bananas down.
“Who?” she asks from the couch.
“That cat you keep feeding all of our food to.”
“Ryan, she doesn’t have a home. She’s been hanging around for a couple of weeks,” she says as I walk over to her and sit down.
“We can take her to the pound.”
“Oh my God! You’re crazy!” she squeals at me. “We’re not doing that.”
Looking over at her, I already know what she wants to do, but I ask anyway, hoping she’ll surprise me.
“So what do you suggest we do?”
In the most timid way possible, she suggests, “We could keep her.”
“I’m not inviting a feral cat into my home.”
Narrowing her eyes at me, she says, “You act like I’m asking you to invite a vampire in.”
As I laugh at her analogy, she defends, “And stop calling her a feral cat like she’s some Dickensian orphan.”
“Why do I have a feeling like this cat is going to become part of our family?”
She gets a huge grin on her face at the mere suggestion as I sit back and drape her legs over my lap. When she lies down, I ask, “You doing okay?”
She turns her head to stare out at the rain that’s now beating against the windows, and says, “I’ve never danced for a crowd this big before.”
“You’ll be fine,” I tell her as I start rubbing her calves.
“Hmm,” she softly hums with her eyes shut as I massage her legs.
“When I finally got to see you dance the night of your solo, I never thought you could look so beautiful. You were all I could see even when the stage was filled with other dancers. You stole every bit of my attention as if nothing else in the world existed but you.”
She looks up to my eyes when I tell her this, and then I say, “I know you work your ass off, but when I saw you on stage, it’s like you didn’t even have to try. That’s how I know you’ll be fine. You can’t help but be captivating, babe.”
Sitting up, she climbs into my lap, straddling my hips, and says, “I wanted you that day of my solo. I was a wreck, and I just wanted you there with me.”
Tangling my fingers into her hair, I tell her, “You have me now, babe.”
She leans down and kisses me, moving her lips slowly with mine while I tug her hips into me. Leaning my head back onto the couch, I guide her with my hands still trussed in her hair. I love the taste of her in my mouth, and we continue to make out for a while, just like this, before she drags herself off of me to get ready.