Your Loyal Servant

(28) Happily Ever After?

Meow.

This isn't happening.

Meow.

I'm serious. I refuse to move.

Meow.

Nope. No way, no how.

Meow.

Groaning, I peered at the stubborn kitty staring at me. His tail flicked back and forth and the look in his eyes was almost calculating, like he was plotting a sure-fire way to get me out of bed.

Meow.

Huffing, I asked, "Why do you always have to win?"

Tommy just watched me as I tossed my covers to the side and threw my legs over the edge of my bed. He continued to study me, making sure I turned off my alarm and actually got out of bed.

I slid to the floor, feet on the carpet, and bent backwards, my back popping. Tommy mewed in concern, but I gave him a sleepy smile and patted his head. I nearly tripped on the funny feline walking from my room because he decided a great time to weave between my feet was while I was in motion.

He scampered ahead of me and waited at the top of the stairs, staring at me with his jade green eyes. Once I was closer, he bolted downstairs and shot out the kitty door someone finally installed over the Christmas break.

Plopping into a chair at the dining room table, I heard the sound of cat chow fall into Tommy's bowl. Then, my own bowl was placed in front of me, and I had to smile at the sight of the cereal.

My kitty hopped onto the table, settling beside my bowl. He glanced between us before he decided we were boring and closed his eyes for a quick nap.

"What, didn't feel gourmet today?" I taunted, smirking as I brought the spoon to my mouth.

Howard Connors smiled that friendly smile of his and explained, "I thought maybe you'd enjoy a traditional breakfast. Of course, if you'd prefer something else, I'd be pleased to make it for you."

Shrugging, I swallowed and told him, "No, I like cereal. I'm a cereal kind of girl. Although, some orange juice would be great, too."

A moment later, he placed a glass of OJ in front of me, and I hadn't even had to ask. He walked back into the kitchen and, it was becoming kind of normal to see a guy in a womanly apron with golden hair and silver eyes make my meals.

How many people can say that honestly?

Once I finished my cereal, Tommy conveniently woke up and licked the bottom of my bowl. I crinkled my nose and informed him, "Your tongue doesn't work as well as soap and water."

"Saliva does have some cleaning qualities," Howie pointed out.

As I headed back downstairs, I tossed over my shoulder, "No one asked you," and I heard him chuckle in response.

I took off my pajama bottoms and replaced them with the academy's skirt. I tugged on the knee-high navy blue socks and took off my top. I buttoned up the white collared shirt and tightened the red tie around my neck. I headed to the bathroom to apply my makeup and tame the mess atop my head. One last glance in the mirror confirmed that this was as good as it was gonna get, and I sauntered back downstairs.

Mom had had a crazy time planning a wedding that finally happened over the weekend, so now she was recovering, which meant sleeping in. And Dad was locked in his office, suffering from a bout of inspiration that caused him to miss out on a lot: sleep, meals, showers. I was just glad he confined himself to one room.