I trudge through the house, going straight to her. But not before Cleo intercepts me with her signature prow prow prow as she comes trotting out of thin air. “Hello, sweet girl,” I murmur, lifting her up and holding her like a baby. She purrs instantly, nuzzling against me. And I don’t even pretend I don’t enjoy it. I carry her out onto the back patio. Tabitha is there, under the heater I bought her, waiting for me. “I thought I was your sweet girl?” Tabitha asks from where she’s seated with crossed arms and one quirked brow.
