The carpet feels rough beneath my knees as I sit cross-legged, Rainbow cradled in my lap like a pillow I never asked for but desperately need. His fur is soft, warm, grounding. His tail flicks every now and then, half in contentment, half in warning that he might leap away at any moment. I run my fingers through his coat, combing out the imagined tension coiled in my gut.
Behind me, I can hear them talking about family related. I don't want to overheard something I shouldn't, so here I am with Rainbow. That sounds like a great excuse to get rid of the super-duper awkward moment, right?
Theo's soft sigh. Felix's soda can cracking open. The fizz that follows. It's domestic. Too domestic. And I want to claw my way out of it.
I keep my back turned. Let them talk. Let them pretend I'm not here, and maybe I'll start to believe it too.
