“No,” I blurt. “I’m alone.”
“I definitely heard something.”
“That was my cat.”
“You have a cat?”
Loren facepalms herself. Yep. That’s about right.
“Anyway, it’s past time for her breakfast,” I continue, “so I’d better go. She gets kind of scratchy when she’s hungry. A real grumpy cat.”
Loren gapes at me.
“Just a moment,” my mother says. “If I don’t get to meet this bride of yours, how can I be certain she wants the same future I envisioned for you?”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I scramble. “We’re totally in love.”
“Bridger, I?—”
“Gotta go,” I interrupt. “Stay tuned for wedding pics. Loren’s beautiful. You’ll see.”
My mother harrumphs. “Are you describing the woman you’re about to marry? Or your grumpy cat?”
I glance at Loren.
“My wife,” I say.
Then, without another word, I end the call.
Loren stares at me for a moment, then she gives my arm a light punch. “I’mgrumpy?”
“I was talking about a fictitious cat,” I say. “You,I called beautiful.”
She exhales, and her cheeks bloom pink. “You don’t even have a cat.”
“My mom doesn’t know that,” I point out. “And she heard you hissing. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Fine.” Loren crosses her arms, chewing at her lower lip. “Do you think she bought it?”
“The cat or the marriage?”
“Both.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Can she make things difficult for us if she doesn’t?”
For us.
I like the sound of that pronoun way too much. But I let that go to answer Loren’s question. “There’s some language in the trust about the trustee being able to contest the marriageifthere’s evidence the parties didn’t enter into it in good faith.”
Loren huffs. “You and Rosalind aren’t exactly a love match.”
“True, but that would’ve been mymother’ssham marriage. You present an entirely different kind of sham.”
“Sham?” She wrinkles her nose. “I think I prefer being called a grumpy cat.”
I hoist a brow. “That gives me an idea for your new pet name.”