A Daddy for Alexi by Joe Satoria

20. WARREN

ONE WEEK LATER

I couldn’t get him off my mind, like a song played over and over. His smile, his touch, the way he clung to me like I was one of the oversized teddy bears.

Alexi was a treasure I felt I’d saved from sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Marcus cleared his throat from the head of the boardroom, pulling me from thought. “I haven’t seen your assistant around.”

Back to the marketing meeting, rather than the morning of cuddles I’d got while he begged for me to let Sugar cuddle with us. The kitten would need to grow before it could climb in bed between us. “Yeah, he quit. Not a good fit for him.”

“First I’m hearing of it,” he grumbled back, flicking through paper on the table.

I looked at Nick, Gareth, and Jane. They were all whipping through the pages to find where Marcus was. It was the report to analyse the impact of the food festival.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say the festival was a success,” he grumbled, clearing his throat once more. “You’re lucky, I was having serious doubts.”

“Are we done?” I asked. I used to live for work, I used to live for talking about tactics and techniques. But now, all I wanted to live for was the way Alexi felt on top of me, hammering his thumbs into the console control, trying to distract me while beating my character in the game.

Marcus sighed. “Just the detail about how much those shot glasses cost, and we were giving them away, for free?”

My team looked at me. They seemed frightened to respond. The order came directly from Marcus, hellbent on the shot glasses. “As you said,” I reminded him.

“No, no, I would remem—”

“At our meeting on the 20th,” I said, picking a date from thin air and stubbing a finger at a random part of the page. “You mentioned, very enthusiastically about wanting shot glasses. You wanted the logo. I said it would be great marketing—”

“A-ha, so, you said it was a great—”

“Would be,” I interrupted once more, “if this were an alcohol promo, but it’s soft drinks. Sure, they’re great for branding and we still have stock, but you signed off on it.” Something he’d made sure he was doing, signing off on everything. Something I could have easily done. And instead, he wanted to.

Marcus slapped the file shut. “I’m too hungry to continue this,” he said, “after lunch, I might have a few more questions.”

Lunch. Currently, my favourite word. Alexi had been making lunches, and each lunch had been a surprise. I told him to order out, but he insisted he wanted to help out. He did have talents, other than being a good cream puff. He was also great at taking care of the kitten, and he had a knack for always choosing the fighter with the weakest power and still beating me.

It was a fifteen-minute drive, and I was starving. I didn’t mind coming home for my lunch. It would’ve been easier to eat out, but driving back meant seeing Alexi. He was an introvert, and I knew he needed his time to recharge.

“Oh no,” Alexi cried out as I walked through the front door. “I’m not ready!”

I immediately shut my eyes. Not looking along the direct view of what I’d caught of him, standing in the kitchen wearing my apron. “I thought you said you were making it. You haven’t turned the stove on, have you?”

He chuckled. “I mean, I was going to put Sugar in those little booties you got him online.”

I continued to chuckle at the thought. I’d told him when he saw them, they weren’t for pets, they were for dolls, and he didn’t like dolls, only teddies, the bigger the better in his eyes, and the large collection sitting together at the corner of the bedroom. A small pile of teddies covering one large bear.

“So, what’s for lunch?” I asked.

“It’s my favourite.”

“I’m your favourite,” I said. “Can I uncover my eyes yet?”

“No, no,” he said, “sit down and I’ll give it to you on a plate.”

He reached for my hand, taking me down the hall to the living room with my back to the kitchen. Sitting, I was face first in front of the TV screen. The kitten on the floor. I could hear his tiny claws against the laminate.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Starving.”

Alexi approached. He was dressed in shorts and a crop top, with the apron hooked around his neck. He presented a plate on my lap. He didn’t like to eat at the dining table, it was a small one, where I mostly sat up to with my laptop, but every time we ate, we sat on the sofa, sinking into the cushions as a film played on the TV.

“Ta-da!” On the plate there was a ham sandwich with the crusts cut off, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, and a juice box.

“For me?” I asked, smiling uncontrollably. “And what are you having?”

He walked back to the counter. “I got the same,” he said. “It’s like a picnic, but without being outside with all the flies and people.”

“I like it.”

Alexi took a seat beside me, snuggling himself up closer to me. “You said not to use the stove or oven, so I didn’t.”

I wrapped my arm around his back. “You can use them, but they have to be under daddy’s supervision.” I kissed at his forehead. I knew he could use them. He wasn’t incapable of things, but I liked to watch over him with dangerous things. “So, what have you been up to this morning? Besides trying to get Sugar into a pair of dolly shoes.”

“I had to choose an outfit to wear,” he said, holding a hand out, he listed on his fingers. “Outfit, then I was taking pictures of Sugar, and then I had some ideas about what I wanted to do—”

“Oh, you did?”

He nodded. “And then I made lunch.”

“Whatever you want to do, I’m here to support you.”

“I set up the Instagram for Sugar, and he already has two-hundred followers,” he said. “So, I have taken loads of pictures of him and I want to do one of those things where it shows his growth.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said, raising a hand up from his back to ruffle through his hair. “And nice work on finessing the algorithm.”

“I did a good job, right?”

“Amazing!”

With a wide grin, he looked at his food and picked at the corner of a sandwich. “And also, I think maybe Sugar should have friends.”

“Friends?” I asked. “You want another kitten?”

He shook his head. “No, no, I mean, I want to take him to that café. He can meet everyone. I wonder if he has brothers and sisters there.”

I was already sure he had the name of a cat picked out for the second one. “We can visit, I can also talk to my friend who works there.”

“And—and—maybe they’ll have a job,” he said. “I think it would be ok, I’d be around cats and they’d make me happy.”

Perhaps a job would be good for him, not the job he’d had, but something at a lower pace, and being surrounded by something he loved wouldn’t hurt either. “I can ask,” I said. “And maybe you could help with their Instagram too.” I knew my friend did their marketing, and he was already on Instagram and social media, but it didn’t hurt to make Alexi feel like he would be an asset.

“Soon Sugar will have so many friends.”

“Alexi,” I said, “you know most of them are there to be adopted. Sugar might not see them again.”

“So, he’ll have friends all around the country.” He gasped. “That sounds exciting, doesn’t it?” He clicked his tongue and snapped his fingers, trying to get Sugar’s attention. “Maybe he can have cat pen pals, and they can send each other letters with their paws.”

“That’s a great idea!” It was especially for Alexi to do. “I wonder if Pink Paws have something like that in place. Like an update centre on kittens and cats they’ve adopted.”

His eyes lit up. “Maybe I could do that!”

“Maybe!” It wouldn’t hurt to try to get him some work. “I’ll talk to my friend about you. But you are ok here, alone, right?”

“I’m not alone,” he chuckled, stuffing his face with the corner of the sandwich. “I have Sugar.”

“Remember,” I said, trying not to laugh at his behaviour, “we don’t speak when we’re eating.”

He snuggled his head into me. Lifting his feet on the coffee table, his toes curled, rubbing together. This is what coming home for lunch was all about.