The cat needed food.
Joanie groaned and looked at the clock beside her bed. One thirty-two A.M. Fantastic.
She crawled out of the sheets and took care of business as fast as her tired muscles would allow. With one final pat on Max’s head and a prayer that he wouldn’t wake her again, she climbed into bed, settled into warm arms and a firm chest that welcomed her. She nuzzled in, breathed the spicy scent of cologne, relaxed into the embrace.
Her eyes shot wide and she gasped. She didn’t have a husband!
She lived alone.
©Laura L. Zimmerman
Photo credit, Me. Meet Maximus the Manx!