Keeley loaded a cart, explaining her choices as she went. She selected a self-cleaning litter box because Aaron could afford it, and she knew he disliked inconvenience. The cat, she reasoned, would be better off avoiding Aaron's wrath over manual scoop duty.

She added an assortment of toys: lasers, balls, tunnels, feather wands, and electronic toys. A fancy silver food and water bowl set, mounted on a black metal rack, also joined the haul.

In the food aisle, Keeley faced a dilemma. "Um…should we get the same food I use, or something fancier? I don't know anything about the expensive brands."

Aaron dismissed the question. "It's a cat; it won't know the difference."

So, they chose her brand.

At the cat trees, Keeley selected a large one with rope scratchers, a hammock, a hidey-hole, and flat perches—the one she would have bought for Molly if her apartment had allowed.

Aaron steadied the tree as Keeley pushed the cart to the cashier, its size protruding significantly. Everything else fit easily into the trunk, but the tree…

"I didn't quite think this through," Keeley admitted at the car.

"Don't you have one of these?" Aaron asked.

"Yes, but it's much smaller."

He circled the car. "I think I've got it, but it might require some finagling."

"Aye aye, captain!" Keeley replied.

First, Aaron pushed the passenger seat all the way forward. Then, he opened only the back driver's side door and the front passenger door, instructing Keeley to lift the smaller end of the tree.

They wedged it partially inside, then Keeley went to the other door to pull it closer to the squished passenger seat. She pulled too hard, losing her grip and falling backward onto her bottom. "Ouch."

Aaron rushed to her side, offering his hand. "Are you okay?"

She refused, brushing herself off. "I'm fine. Is the other side fully in? Can you close the door?"

He checked. "Not quite. Twist your end a little more."

Three more minutes of twisting and pushing secured both doors, but Keeley had nowhere to sit. She climbed into the back seat, her legs perched atop the cat tree. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but she managed to fasten her seat belt.

Driving away, she examined her legs. One was bent normally, squeezed between tree branches; the other was at an awkward angle. Every bump and turn felt jarring. After five minutes, she couldn't take it anymore. Laughing uncontrollably, she doubled over, her nose hitting her tangled legs.

"Keeley?" Aaron asked, his tone concerned. "Are you alright back there?"

Laughing too hard to speak clearly, she managed, "It's just—my—legs! Hahahahaha!"

At the next red light, he turned to see the source of her amusement. It was quite a sight. While her eyes were squeezed shut with laughter, he snapped a picture. He acted nonchalant, continuing when the light turned green.

Keeley, upon exiting the car, felt so relieved she could have done a cartwheel—if her legs weren't so sore.

"Can we ask someone for help, or are we on our own? Even with both of us, it'll take at least three trips."

Aaron frowned. "I've never had this kind of situation before. Maybe the doorman?"

"What, you don't have servants on standby?"

He looked at her incredulously. "I use a housekeeping service a few times a week and a driver when I need to work in the backseat, but that's it."

She was astonished. This didn't match her memories of his lifestyle after his return to New York in her first life.

"You don't even have a cook?"

"No, I use a meal delivery service. I like my privacy."

His statement made her consider how much he'd changed since college. She'd been absent, and his experiences clearly shaped him differently. The same held true for her. Her second chance at college had drastically altered her.

"Is anyone from the housekeeping service there now that we could call?" she asked hopefully.

"I think we're going to have to make multiple trips."

She sighed. "Fine, let's do the tree first. I'll take the small end, you take the base."

They received several curious stares in the lobby but proceeded to the elevator. Aaron used a key to access the top three floors, preventing unauthorized access. Only he and the doorman, also with a key, could access those levels. His security measures suggested a heightened sense of paranoia. Or maybe just a strong dislike of humanity.

She still couldn't understand why he'd agreed to this, however short-term it might be.

They carefully carried the cat tree to the guest room on the first floor—his designated space for the cat's belongings.

After several tiring trips, the room was set up. They trudged downstairs and drove back to Brooklyn. It was only 10:30 PM. Keeley sighed.