A little after eight that evening, Jill stopped by. She’d just come home from work, and presented Dale with a bottle of wine when he opened the door. He took one look at the offering and shook his head. “Oh, no. Not again. You’re turning me into an alcoholic.”
Pushing her way into his apartment, she set the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Like it’s my fault you can’t hold your liquor. Besides, I’m not sharing this one with you. I have someone waiting upstairs.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if that ‘someone’ was one of her two cats, but she wouldn’t understand what he meant without his having to tell her Scott’s little secret, and he didn’t relish the thought of her hitting him upside the head with the bottle of wine if she thought the question was offensive. He never could
