Chapter 75
Nora's POV
After my shower, I lay in bed staring at my phone screen.
I'd only meant to check my messages, but my finger hovered there, not moving. Should I text him? Just to ask about Pepper...
That's a terrible idea. Don't do it.
But my thumb was already moving, and before I could stop myself the message was sent.
Nora: Just got home—is Pepper okay?
I stared at those words for ten seconds and wanted to take them back.
The reply came within seconds.
A video.
My heart skipped as I pressed play. The camera was pointed down at a cardboard box lined with fleece. Pepper was latched onto a syringe, sucking frantically like she hadn't eaten in days. Her tiny paws kneaded the air, white liquid smeared across her nose and the corners of her mouth. She made these urgent little grunting sounds between swallows, greedy and completely focused.
And in the background, Julian's voice—low and patient and unexpectedly gentle.
"Slow down, little one. Nobody's going to take it from you."
Nora: You actually figured out the syringe method. You're kind of a... genius.
The words were barely sent before the screen lit up.
An incoming video call.
From Julian.
My phone nearly flew out of my hands. My heart shot straight into my throat. A video call. He wants to video call.
The screen kept ringing. I sat up fast and checked my reflection in the front camera. Hair everywhere, pajama collar crooked, cheeks still flushed pink from my shower.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, straightened my collar, glanced around the room—blanket twisted into a mess, pillows everywhere, the entire bed a disaster. Absolutely not suitable for being on camera.
I jumped out of bed barefoot and walked quickly to my desk. Sat up straight, adjusted the angle so the light looked decent, took a breath.
Then I accepted the call.
Julian's face filled the screen, and every coherent thought in my head evaporated.
He'd showered. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face, a few strands falling loose at his temples. He was wearing a black silk robe with a relaxed V-collar that showed far too much—the clean lines of his collarbones, the hollow of his throat, muscle and shadow in the warm light.
His apartment behind him was soft and amber-lit, completely different from offices or the interior of his car. There was something unhurried about him, something private and... close.
My gaze snagged on the screen for two full seconds before I jerked it away to some vague point over his left shoulder.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked, a smile at the corner of his mouth, his tone easy, like he'd expected exactly this.
"I just..." I cleared my throat. "I wanted to see how Pepper was doing."
He raised one eyebrow. "So you called me a genius?"
Heat flooded my face. "...Aren't you?"
He actually laughed at that, low, with a touch of resignation. "If you say so."
Julian reached for a towel and ran it absently through his still-damp hair. "You want to know how I tried to feed her at first? I poured the formula into a bowl."
"...And?"
"She had no idea what to do with it. Walked straight through it." He sighed, wearing the expression of someone who had genuinely lived through something humbling. "There were little white paw prints all over my kitchen floor."
I pressed my hand over my mouth but the laugh got out anyway. "Oh god—I can picture that perfectly."
"Glad it's funny to you." But his voice carried no real complaint, and he was smiling too. "Then I looked it up and found out about the syringe. Had to drive to a pet store to get one."
"You really do have patience," I said, blinking at him.
"I don't have a choice." He set the towel aside, unbothered. "I made a commitment to take care of her."
"Sounds like you learned a lot of useful life skills tonight."
He let out a long-suffering sigh, perfectly deadpan. "Life really is the best teacher."
We looked at each other for a beat, and then we both laughed at the same time. It felt easy in a way I hadn't expected.
"What's Pepper doing now?" I asked.
"Hold on."
The camera swung around to the living room couch. Pepper was sprawled on a fluffy little mat, belly round and rising with each breath, all four paws curled loosely, completely still.
"Two minutes ago she was screaming like I was murdering her," Julian's voice came from off-screen, warm with something that sounded a lot like fondness. "Now that she's full, not a peep."
"She's sleeping so soundly..." I dropped my voice without thinking.
The camera turned back to Julian. I looked at the screen properly now, the earlier urge to look away mostly gone.
"That means she's not guarded around you," I said. "Kittens don't sleep that deeply if they feel unsafe. She's completely relaxed—completely trusting you."
Julian watched me for a moment, something shifting in his expression, settling slowly like a stone dropping through still water. Then he let out a quiet breath, his tone carrying a trace of something dry and unguarded.
"One meal and she drops her defenses completely." He paused. "She's definitely better at that than some people I know."
I went still.
He hadn't said my name. He didn't need to.
I knew exactly who he meant.