Aaron peered into the cat room window with mild interest while waiting for Keeley and a shelter employee. Most of the cats were sleeping. He wondered how much cats slept—he had no idea.

Truthfully, he'd never considered getting a pet until he thought it might help him win Keeley's affection. He had no idea what pet ownership entailed; before today, he'd never even petted a cat.

He hated admitting ignorance, but he'd noticed Keeley's helpful nature—she'd assist him, however grudgingly, with anything he didn't understand. Seeking her cat-related advice over the next few weeks would be easy, a perfect excuse to stay in touch.

Keeley's voice came from around the corner. “He’s never had a cat before and works all day, so he's looking for one that's relatively calm and independent. Do you have any like that?”

“Oh yes, we have several,” the shelter worker, wearing a lime-green “Happy Paws” t-shirt, replied.

“There he is! Aaron!”

Keeley waved him over. He straightened and briskly approached. The shelter worker smiled and gestured for them to follow.

“Tell me more about what you’re looking for,” she encouraged.

“Um…what she said. I have a demanding job—ten-hour days—but my place feels empty, so I wanted a pet,” he improvised. His real reason sounded too strange.

“Well, you definitely don't want a very young cat; they have more energy. I have a few laid-back ones I can show you in this room.”

The shelter worker, whose nametag read “Lisa,” opened a door to a room with eight cats. One was eating; the rest were peacefully napping. Keeley crouched, petting a large ginger cat sprawled on the floor.

“That's Rusty,” Lisa said. “He’s friendly, but when he's not sleeping, he's quite active. I think Dinah might be a good fit. She’s in the cubby up top.”

They looked up and saw a gray cat with small white and light orange patches.

“Oh, she’s beautiful!” Keeley exclaimed, standing on tiptoe for a better view.

“She’s a diluted tortoiseshell. Six years old, she prefers peace and quiet but can be sweet and cuddly. Dinah would make an excellent companion.”

After peering into the cubby, Keeley dropped back down. “Do you think she’d let me hold her?”

Lisa nodded. “Just wake her gently so she’s not startled.”

Keeley softly spoke to the cat while petting it. Dinah slowly opened her large gray eyes, blinking several times. Keeley carefully lifted her from the cubby and held her close.

“She’s purring! Here, hold her. See what you think.”

“Hang on—” Aaron protested, unsure what to do, but Keeley placed the cat in his arms, showing him how to hold her comfortably.

The cat tilted its head, stared at him, then closed its eyes and began purring.

Keeley stood, hands on hips, a disbelieving smile on her face. “What do you know? I think she actually likes you.”

“Is that so surprising?”

She shrugged. “Never in a million years would I have pegged you as the animal-snuggling type.”

“Why must you always insult me?” he asked frostily. Keeley seemed determined to find fault with him.

“Does the truth always have to be insulting? Don’t tell me I’m the only one surprised you wanted a cat.”

She wasn't. Cameron would laugh; Aiden probably would too, as this was partly his idea.

“My subordinate was surprised as well.”

“You actually talk to your subordinates?” That same disbelieving tone.

Aaron was annoyed. “I'll have you know, he is the friend who told me about this place.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re friends with someone who works for you?!”

He was tempted to sigh. “Yes, Keeley, I have friends at work. Well, sort of. They’d probably consider themselves my friends.”

“But you don’t,” she said shrewdly.

“They’re annoying,” Aaron admitted, “but I spend a lot of time with them, so I suppose they count.”

Lisa watched them with a perplexed expression. Initially, they seemed like a couple on a date, but their interaction suggested otherwise.

She interjected before things became more awkward. “So, what do you think of Dinah?”

Aaron, nearly forgetting Lisa, cleared his throat. “She’ll do nicely. I’ll take her.”

“Excellent!” Lisa exclaimed, smiling broadly. “You can put her down and fill out the paperwork. I’ll send someone back for her.”

Keeley watched other cats while Aaron completed the adoption application. He paid the remarkably low price of $25, and a worker brought Dinah out in a ventilated cardboard box with a handle.

The cat meowed pitifully on the ride back to Aaron's apartment.

“Poor baby. Molly hates car rides,” Keeley said, craning her neck to look at the box. “Are you keeping her name?”

“Keeping it. I’m not creative,” he confessed.

“I kept Molly’s name, too. She was abandoned when her previous owners moved,” Keeley said sourly. “I hate people abandoning their pets.”

That sounded oddly passionate. She clearly loved animals; abandoned pets likely resonated with her.

“Yeah, that’s terrible.”

She snorted, then coughed to cover it. What was that about?

Her expression turned serious. “This might be a whim, but Dinah is your family now. You can’t abandon her if you change your mind, got it?”

Aaron scowled. Again with the worst-case scenario. “I wouldn’t. I keep my commitments.”

Keeley’s doubt was evident. “Promise me, Aaron. Take care of your cat.”

“Okay, I promise! Why would I abandon her?”

“Because this is out of the blue…I don’t want her to suffer if you change your mind.”

She seemed genuinely worried. How unreliable did she think he was?

“I won’t,” he said flatly. “I take care of my people…and animals, now.”

“Alright,” Keeley said skeptically, dropping the subject.

Aaron felt disgruntled. That conversation felt off. She didn’t know him well enough to assume he’d abandon the cat, especially given their long separation.

(The final promotional sentence has been removed.)