Chapter 18: Corbin - Purrfect Valentine

The AirBNB smelled like mildew and someone else’s lavender air freshener, and Andi had complained about it from the second we’d walked through the door. The sheets were “scratchy.” The water pressure was “pathetic.” The view of the mountains was “depressing” because apparently nature itself wasn’t good enough for her. But the worst part—the part that had kept me staring at the popcorn ceiling until three in the morning—was Muffy crying in the bathroom.

Andi had refused to let her into the bedroom. “I’m not sleeping with that thing in the bed. It probably has fleas.”

“You heard Wim. The elevation⁠—”

“I don’t care what the old lady said.” She’d already been pulling back the scratchy sheets, her engagement ring catching the lamplight. “Put it in the bathroom. It’ll survive one night.”

So I had. And Muffy had cried. They were these small, confused sounds that went straight through the bathroom door and into my chest. I’d lain there listening, and when Andi had reached for me around midnight—her hand sliding down my stomach, her mouth at my ear, murmuring about how she’d “missed me”—I’d gone rigid.

“No.”

“No?”

“Not tonight.”

She’d pulled back like I’d slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m tired. Long day.”

The silence that followed had been worse than the fighting. Andi didn’t handle rejection well. She’d rolled over, and eventually her breathing had evened out, and I’d gotten up and moved to the couch because I couldn’t stand being in that bed anymore.

At some point, I must have slept. I didn’t remember it.

Now I stood outside Cupid’s Cat Café with a kitten in my jacket and a hollowed-out chest, watching the fairy lights blink in the window.

The bell chimed when I pushed through the door. Cupid lifted his fat orange head from the counter, took one look at me, and went back to sleep. Even he knew this was going to be bad.

“Corbin,” Bev emerged from the back, and I watched the smile die on her face the second she got a good look at me. “Oh, sweetheart. What happened to you?”

“You look like roadkill,” Wim added, appearing behind her. “Handsome roadkill, but still.”

“Thanks.”

Wim was already making coffee. She didn’t ask what I wanted. They’d learned it. They’d learned me. God, I was going to miss them too.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Bev ordered, but I didn’t move. If I sat, I’d never get back up.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Clearly.” Bev crossed her arms. “Spit it out.”

“I’m leaving town. Today. Andi and I, we…um, we’re getting married, and I—” My throat closed. I forced myself to keep going. “I need someone to take Muffy to the clinic. For her daily shots.”

The café went quiet. Even the cats seemed to pause.

“Married,” Bev repeated. Not a question. A verdict.

“You heard her. She came back. She wants to try again, or whatever.”

“Uh-huh. We heard alright.” Bev and Wim exchanged a look. “And you want this? Marriage to the woman who showed up yesterday and nearly kicked Aphrodite?” Bev asked.

“She didn’t kick⁠—”

“She thought about it.” Wim set the coffee in front of me, her hand lingering on my arm. “Corbin, honey. You don’t look like a man who’s about to marry the love of his life. You look like a man walking to his own execution.”

“Well, love is complicated.”

“It’s not rocket science, bud. Love isn’t supposed to make you look like something Cupid hacked up this morning.” Bev stepped closer. “What does Muffy think about all this?”

As if on cue, Muffy stirred inside my jacket. She’d been quiet the whole drive over. Too quiet. Now she poked her head out, blinking at the familiar café, and let out a small chirp.

“Hey, Muff.” My voice cracked. Fantastic. “We’re just visiting.”

She chirped again, louder, and started climbing out of my jacket toward the counter. Toward Cupid, who she’d decided was her best friend despite his complete indifference to her existence. I caught her before she could launch herself.

“Actually—” I swallowed. “Actually, I need to leave her here. With you.”

Muffy squirmed in my hands.

“Andi doesn’t—” I stopped. Tried again. “She’s not a cat person. And I can’t—Muffy can’t come with us.” Muffy continued to fight me, and I tried to hold her steady to calm her down. “Hey—hey, it’s okay—” She started yowling and twisting and reaching for my face with her tiny paws. “Muffy, stop. Stop, you’re okay⁠—”

She wasn’t okay. She was freaking out, and inside I was too.

“Shh, shh.” I pulled her against my chest, and she clung there, claws hooked through my shirt, her whole body shaking. The screaming dissolved into these broken little sounds—half-mew, half-sob—and each one drove a spike straight through my sternum. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Muff. You’re going to be okay. Bev and Wim are going to take care of you and will help you find a nice home, and Ally will make sure you get your shots, and⁠—”

She pressed her face into my neck just like she had that first day.

But my mind went somewhere else. Back to a fourteen-year-old boy crying in his dad’s arms because he didn’t understand why his mom had left. I still didn’t understand, but I knew what it felt like. What I was doing to this cat that had somehow purred her way into my heart.

“Corbin.” Wim’s voice was gentle. “Honey, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I do.” I peeled Muffy off my chest. She fought me—God, she fought me—her claws catching on my shirt, my jacket, anything she could grab. The sounds coming out of her weren’t even cat sounds anymore. Other cats around the café watched us, as did the other patrons.

“We’ll take care of her,” Bev said, reaching for her. “We’ll make sure she gets her treatment.”

I placed Muffy in Bev’s arms. She immediately twisted toward me, screaming, reaching, her blue eyes fixed on my face.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

I turned and walked out the door without looking back.

Behind me, through the glass, Muffy’s cries followed me into the street just like they had the first day when I’d walked out on her.

I didn’t deserve her love.

Andi was leaning against her Porsche, scrolling through her phone, her breath fogging in the cold air. She looked up when the café door closed, and her perfectly groomed eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.

“Have you been crying?”

“No.”

“Your eyes are red.”

“Are you ready?” I asked, rubbing my sleeve across my face. If there was moisture, that removed it.

She laughed and shook her head. “Over a cat? God, Corbin. It’s an animal. They don’t have feelings like we do.” She pushed off the car, tucking her phone away. “Did you leave it with those weird old ladies?”

“Her. Her name is Muffy. Ragamuffin”

“Whatever.” Andi wrinkled her nose at the café. “This whole town smells like cat litter and broken dreams. Let’s get out of here before I need another shower.”

I walked to my Mustang on autopilot. The familiar creak of the door. The cold leather seat. The engine turning over—reliable, at least. One thing in my life that still worked the way it was supposed to, thanks to Lynx.

Andi’s Porsche pulled out first, and I followed her taillights toward the edge of town.

Cupid Corner slid past my windows. The gazebo. Valentine’s Lane. The hardware store and the flower shop and the bakery. I didn’t let myself look at it. Didn’t let myself think about Ally standing in that exam room, tears on her cheeks, telling me to make arrangements for Muffy because she deserved that much. Didn’t want to think about her going home alone to a dark house without me.

I can survive you leaving me. Men don’t stay. Not for me.

The town limits sign appeared. THANKS FOR VISITING CUPID CORNER! in cheerful pink letters. And then it was behind me, and the mountains rose on either side, and the road stretched forward into a future that felt like a slow death.

Every mile, I felt less.

Less angry. Less sad. Less everything. Like someone was scooping out my insides and replacing them with static. Andi’s Porsche cruised ahead of me, and I followed because that’s what I did. That’s what I’d always done. Follow. Accommodate.

But not four miles outside of town, my car started making a noise.

Grinding. Stuttering. A dashboard light flickered on just as I lost power.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I pulled onto the shoulder—if you could call it that—and stared at the check engine light like I could intimidate it into submission. Ahead, Andi’s brake lights flashed. She turned around and looped until she was in front of me on the shoulder. Her brows scrunched together, and she scowled at me as she got out of the Porsche, her heels clicking against the asphalt as she marched back toward me with her hands on her hips.

Groaning, I popped the hood and got out of the car. As soon as I lifted it, steam rose from the engine. Leaning over, I tried to diagnose the problem. I’d worked on it a bit myself in the beginning, but it’d been a long time, and I wasn’t as familiar with it as I used to be. However, with the loss of power, I had a feeling it was the drivetrain.

“What now?” Andi’s voice cut through the cold air. “I thought you got this thing fixed.”

“I did. This is a different problem, I think.”

“Of course. I told you when we first started dating to just scrap the car and get something more reliable.” She sighed, that long-suffering sound I’d heard a thousand times. “Come on. Just leave it. Get in my car, and we’ll send a tow truck for it later.”

“But—”

“Corbin, I’m cold and I just want to get home. Please.” She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at me.

Sighing, I nodded once. “Let me get my phone. I’ll call the mechanic and see if he can come pick it up so it’s not on the side of the road. And⁠—”

“Whatever, just do it.” She stormed back to her car and grabbed her coat.

Biting my cheek to hold back words I knew I’d regret, I walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. My phone had fallen between the seat and console, and I fished around for it, but my fingers closed around something soft first.

Frowning, I pulled it out, praying it wasn’t some fuzzy, moldy piece of food.

It was hot pink.

Muffy’s toy mouse.

It’d been the only toy she’d really cared about despite the fact that Ally had bought her at least fifteen others that first day I’d taken Muffy back to the Inn with me. She’d carried the mouse everywhere—batted it across floors, dragged it to bed. I’d even played fetch with her while I was on the toilet. More than once, I’d woken up with it tucked under my pillow because something in her tiny little brain must’ve wanted her favorite things close together.

The mouse.

And me.

I stood there holding it, and the static filling my chest cracked.

Ally’s kitchen. Steam rising from a pot of chili while she laughed at her own terrible joke. Bernie shoving his massive head into my lap, demanding attention. Muffy curled on my chest, purring like a small motor, while Ally traced patterns on my arm and the house settled around us like a held breath. The porch light, always on. The spot by the door where my shoes lived. The way Ally teased me when I made a little blanket nest for Muffy before Ally and I left to run errands.

Shit.

I’d felt alive there. For the first time in years, maybe ever, I’d woken up wanting to see what the day would bring.

And now I felt nothing. Hollow. Like a house with all the furniture removed.

“Babe? Corbin!” Andi’s voice sharpened. “Did you find it? I’m freezing my ass off here. Are you listening to me? Just get in my car.”

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and faced her. “No.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” I closed my fist around the toy mouse. “I’m not going with you.”

“What are you talking about? We’re going to go home and then start planning the wed⁠—”

“I can’t do this, Andrea.”

Her expression flickered before a sweet smile crossed her lips. “Babe. You’re exhausted. You’re emotional about the cat thing. Let’s just get home and⁠—”

“There is no home. Not with you.” I turned to face her fully. “There’s your apartment and your life and your plans, and I’ve been trying to fit myself into them for two years. Longer. And I’m done.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Her voice turned cold. “Don’t throw what we have away just because you’re having your man-period and moping about a little stray cat.”

“Enough. I’m not going.”

“Corbin, I’m telling you. Don’t throw this chance away.”

I tilted my head back and stared at the blue sky. When I looked back at her, she was glaring at me. “But what if I’m throwing it away because I don’t want it anymore?”

She stared at me, her face dropping as hurt filled her eyes. Thankfully, I was too empty to care.

“Is this about her?” The words came out sharp. “That vet? Don’t tell me you’re doing this because of some small-town bitch who⁠—”

I moved before I thought about it.

Two steps and I was in her space, close enough that she backed into her Porsche with nowhere else to go. I planted my hands on the roof on either side of her head, and for the first time in years, she looked at me like she didn’t know what I’d do next.

Good. Neither did I.

“Don’t.” My voice came out rough. I didn’t even know I was capable of growling like that. “Don’t ever call her that again.”

Andi’s breath caught. Her eyes were wide. “Corbin⁠—”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I didn’t move. Didn’t give her an inch. “You’re going to get in your car. You’re going to drive back to the city. And you’re going to lose my number.”

“Babe—”

“I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to hear from you. Keep the ring—sell it, I don’t fucking care. But this? Us? It’s done.”

I stepped back. She stayed pressed against the Porsche, staring at me like I’d morphed into Sasquatch in drag.

“You’re making a mistake,” she said, but her voice had lost its edge. “When you realize what you’ve thrown away⁠—”

“Goodbye, Andi.”

I turned and walked back to my car. Grabbed my phone from between the seats. Locked the doors. I didn’t need anything else—not the suitcase in the trunk, not the jacket on the passenger seat. None of it mattered. I’d get it later when Lynx towed my car. Again.

I pocketed my keys and my phone and the stupid pink mouse.

And I started running.

“You can’t be serious!” Andi’s voice followed me, high and incredulous. “Corbin! You’re in the middle of fucking nowhere!”

I didn’t turn around.

“Fine. Fuck you, Corbin!”

With a wide grin on my face, I flipped her off over my shoulder. Behind me, her car door slammed, and the engine started. Tires squealed. The Porsche roared away.

When the sound faded, peaceful silence settled around me, except for the repetitive pounding of my footsteps, the panting of my breath, and the wind encouraging me to keep going through the pines.

I ran faster.

My lungs burned. My legs screamed. I hadn’t run like this since high school gym class, and my body was questioning if I’d lost my mind. But somewhere ahead of me—four miles, maybe more—was a small town with fairy lights and gossiping cat ladies and a woman with blonde and pink hair who had a heart of gold.

A woman I’d walked away from.

And my kitten was waiting for me too.

The town limits sign appeared in the distance. Pink against green.

I didn’t know if Ally would take me back. I didn’t know if Muffy would ever forgive me. I didn’t know anything except that I was done running away from the things that mattered.

WELCOME TO CUPID CORNER.

I crossed the line at a sprint and kept going.