A jangling that reminded me of a jackhammer jolted me out of sleep, though my bear acted as an alarm clock if I slept too late. Theo, who wasn’t a morning person, grumbled about it being the middle of the night and flung an arm over my hip.
My mate had the luxury of working from home when he wasn’t on a huge project. He complained when I removed his arm and slid out of bed.
“Why do people have to go to work?” he groused as he sat up, his unfocused eyes staring at a spot on the wall.
“You should start a petition, gather signatures and organize a protest arguing for the right not to work.”
Theo tossed a pillow at me, which he did every morning when I made a smartass comment. “Ha freaking ha.” He stumbled toward the bedroom door while I shut myself in the bathroom. Once the kittens were allowed into the bedroom, those little stealthy so-and-sos had been known to sneak into the bathroom while I was showering and unravel the toilet paper.
We’d fallen into a routine that worked for us, and even though Theo insisted humans shouldn’t be expected to get out of bed before ten, he fed the kittens and emptied their litter tray—because my bear refused to be close to kitten poop—while I got ready for work.
Theo didn’t eat until mid morning, but he’d make coffee while I got dressed, and I’d throw down a bowl of cereal before dashing out the door.
As well as meeting my mate and becoming a dad to kittens, that day was also significant because we’d been awarded the contract based on the presentation. I no longer started at nine and finished at five, but got to the office around seven and often left after nine.
But Theo would bring the kittens to a small park up the street from my office, and I’d spend thirty minutes with them at lunch time. He’d either make lunch or buy something from the same deli we bought our picnic from on the day he met my bear.
“How much longer will you be working like this?” he asked every few weeks. He never expected an answer because this was a years-long project. But long hours ensured I got my weekends off and we’d spend twenty-four hours at home, locking the world out, and the second day we’d drive out of the city and I’d give my bear his fur.
The kittens and my bear were great pals, though our babies were always on long leashes when we were in the woods. After my bear hunted, he’d lie on the grass and the kittens would crawl over his big belly and sleep. Theo would snuggle into my beast’s side, and we’d nap as a family.
“Carlton, we’re fools.” Theo was frowning at his phone while I grabbed my messenger bag and slung it across my chest, ready to race out the door.
“Because we have four kittens in a small space? True. Because they destroy every toy we buy them and do the same to the furniture? Also true.”
“No.” He held up the phone, and I studied his wallpaper which was me and the kitten kids. “Cute.”
“No, the date, silly.”
For a moment I wondered if it was a weekend and I’d gotten ready for work a day or two early. But I was pretty sure today was Monday, the worst day of the week, when no one wanted to drag themselves into the office and they were longing for Sunday.
I froze. Was it Theo’s birthday? Nope. That wasn’t for months. My birthday? I wasn’t so busy that I’d forget that, and surely my folks would call.
“What’s so special about today?” I ventured, worried it was our three- or four-month anniversary and I should have bought flowers or made a reservation in a nice restaurant.
“It’s a public holiday.”
The word “holiday” repeated in my head. But it took seconds or minutes for my brain to switch from work mode to holiday.
“I get to stay home.”
My mate grinned. “I’ll make more coffee and toast.” He pointed to the bedroom. “Go back to bed.”
My messenger bag hit the floor and I toed off my shoes. But rather than leaving them there, I put them on a rack in the cupboard because the kittens would destroy them. I tossed my shirt and pants on an armchair in the corner of the bedroom and dived into bed.
There were two small lumps under the covers, ones that wiggled and jiggled, and I hauled Socks and Midnight out, and they meowed as if I’d ruined their day. The other two, Patches and Fluffy, were chasing a ball around the room while the pair on the bed lay on my chest.
Theo put them on the floor before bringing in the coffee. Hot liquid and bouncy, curious kittens weren’t suitable companions. My mate had a pile of toast on a tray, some slathered with PBJ and other slices were covered in lime marmalade.
“All for me?”
Theo held up his coffee mug. “Too early for me, love.”
This was luxury, having an extra day to be with my mate and family to do nothing.
“What do you want to do today?” Theo’s face was half hidden behind his enormous coffee mug.
My preference was to stay in bed, watch TV, nap, and maybe have sex. But I’d do whatever my mate wanted, because he spent long hours alone with just the kittens for company while I was at the office.
“Not move from the bed other than to get food and go to the bathroom?”
I stroked his cheek, overcome with love for this man who loved shopping and going to museums but who’d ignore his own wishes to do what I wanted.
“Theo, you can be honest. If you’d like to spend the day wandering around an art gallery, we can do that.”
He draped my arm over his shoulder and lay down beside me. “How about we compromise? We stay here all day lazing about, and this evening we go out for a meal.”
“Good thinking.”
A thump alerted us the kittens were up to something, and Theo took the tray while I leaned over the bed. A book that had dropped out of my hand as I slept last night was open, and two of the kittens had the pages in their clutches. My bear took over and growled softly, not enough to scare them, because they weren’t easily frightened, but they paused. They glanced at me and then one another, and I picked them up before they destroyed my book.
“It’s time.” Theo picked up the TV remote.
I rolled my eyes but told him to turn on the TV. He flicked through the channels to a kids’ one, and the kittens bounded onto the bed and stared at the screen.
“I wonder how many cartoons is too many,” Theo asked before putting on noise-canceling headphones.
I shrugged before putting on my own. If the kittens’ reading, writing, and mouse-catching ability was hampered by too much screen time, we’d deal with it. I imagined a kitty teacher with glasses perched at the end of her nose, waggling her paw at me for allowing the kittens to watch TV every day, and I giggled.
When evening rolled around, we put the kittens on their leashes and walked to a nearby restaurant where we could sit outside with our furry children. The kittens were never naughty at the restaurant, knowing the staff would sneak them treats.
“Your fur babies are so well behaved.” A woman paused, a cat in a carrier on her back. “How do you do that?” Her cat swiped her head as she was talking and glared at our four “angels.”
We told her not to be fooled by their angelic expressions, and she laughed. Her cat hissed at the kittens as the woman walked away.
Theo waited until the woman was out of earshot before muffling his laughter with a napkin. “That cat! I bet he rules the house.”
I joined him in laughing but had to reel the kittens in as they attempted to follow the woman and her snarky cat.
“What were you planning on doing?” I asked them as they wove around my feet. “Four against one sounds like you’d win any battle, but that cat was kinda mean.”
A waiter came out with fishy treats for our little ones, and they forgot whatever they had planned for the cat.
As we strolled home, the kittens pranced in front of us, and people took photos of them. They’d be on social media by the time we got home.
“It’s too early to sleep.” Theo checked his phone after we’d settled our babies in bed.
“First one to be naked gets a blow job.” My shirt was already off.
“No fair.” My mate pouted. “I can’t compete with a shifter.
“I’ll give you a head start. One, two, three…”