The orange tabby rubbed against Sophia Sullivan's ankles.
Ethan Sullivan glanced at its plump figure.
"Does this cat visit often?"
Sophia crouched down, scratching under its chin with her fingertips.
"All the neighbors spoil it."
She wore a loose T-shirt with a slightly open collar.
As she bent forward, a pale stretch of her neck was exposed.
Her undergarments had long gone missing.
The delicate hollow beneath her collarbone peeked through.
Soft curves rose and fell with her movements.
Ethan averted his gaze.
"You didn’t seem keen on discussing pets earlier."
He remembered the bag of cat food in the pavilion.
Sophia often forgot meals for herself.
Yet she remembered to feed strays.
"I had one when I was little."
She lowered her eyes, her hair veiling her profile.
"It died later."
The tabby mewled and pawed at her pants.
Ethan looked at the dishes he'd prepared.
His brow arched slightly.
—High in oil and salt?
Sophia met his gaze defiantly.
"Humans aren’t as delicate as cats."
She tapped the cat’s head.
"You need to lose weight."
Ethan chuckled softly.
"I’ll make lighter dishes for you next time."
His mind flashed to the day Leo Carter had caused trouble.
The words "orphanage" were like a thorn.
Sophia stroked the tabby’s fur.
"Mine was orange too."
Her voice was barely audible.
"It died because of me."
Fighting over food was common in the orphanage.
She’d saved her own portions to feed the cat.
Leo and his gang couldn’t stand it.
The night the cat’s body lay in the courtyard,
she’d lunged at them like a madwoman.
Ethan caught the glimmer in her eyes.
"Cats have nine lives."
His voice was deep.
"Dying for their owner is repayment."
Sophia lifted her gaze to him.
"Really?"
"They go to a freer place."
Ethan looked into the distance.
Like him and her.
Perhaps they’d drift apart eventually.
But having this moment was enough.