Bill shrugged. “Sure. I guess. I’m not really much of an animal person. I prefer companions who can carry on a conversation with me.”
Catherine thought of the many conversations she’d had with Norman. She kept those memories to herself, since she didn’t think Bill would understand. Mike, she suspected, would totally get it.
And darn it, she was doing it again. Thinking about Mike while she was out with another man.
Bill walked her to her door, then stood by while she stuck her key in the lock. She considered, then rejected asking him in for coffee. To be honest, she was ready for the evening to end, even though it wasn’t particularly late.
“I have to be in the lab early tomorrow morning,” she said.
He smiled faintly and nodded. “I have to get an early start myself. Thank you for going with me tonight. You made the evening much more enjoyable.”
“Thank you for inviting me. I had a very nice time.”
“Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
Her smile felt too bright even to her. “Maybe we can.”
“Okay. Good night, Catherine.”
“Good night, Bill.” She turned and slipped inside her apartment, closing the door behind her.
Norman peeked out of the bedroom door to make sure she was alone. Seeing that she was, he padded out of the bedroom and wound himself around her ankles, meowing.
Catherine reached down to pick him up, heedless of the cat hairs being deposited on her dress. She could take care of that later. Right now she just wanted to snuggle her cheek against her pet’s soft fur.
She’d had a perfectly nice evening. Bill had been an ideal escort, a true gentleman in the best, old-fashioned sense of the word. She was reasonably sure he would ask her out again. He seemed to have noticed that so many others considered them a good match.
She couldn’t imagine why the evening had left her feeling vaguely depressed.
Catherine worked late Friday evening, returning home weary and frustrated after a day when almost everything that could go wrong had. To make it worse, gossip had spread rapidly about her accompanying Bill James to Dr. McNulty’s retirement party, and quite a few of her associates had felt compelled to comment. The matchmaking had been blatant, and as a result Catherine’s nerves were on edge by the end of the day.
She was hungry, but too tired to cook, so she ate a bowl of cereal and a banana for dinner, ignoring the disapproving echo of her mother’s voice in her head. There were several things she should have done that evening—some laundry and other household chores, bills stacked on the desk in the bedroom she used as an office, papers to look over for the classes she taught on Mondays and Wednesdays—but those things required more energy than she had left over. Instead, she crashed in front of the television with a cup of hot tea and tried to lose herself in a crime-solving drama featuring two attractive brothers.
The first commercial break had just begun when someone knocked on the door. Snoozing in her lap, Norman raised his head with an inquiring meow.
Catherine set the cat on the sofa cushions beside her and rose. She had changed into comfortable black yoga pants and a lime-green long-sleeved T-shirt when she’d arrived home, so she was decently dressed for visitors, but she wasn’t expecting anyone.
She checked the viewer in her door. Her heart gave a jump in her chest.
She opened the door. “Mike.”
“Hi.” Looking a little sheepish, he shifted on his feet. Along with his usual jeans and athletic shoes, he wore a thin black sweatshirt with what she assumed was a sports mascot emblazoned on the chest. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, of course not. Come in. Is something wrong?”
“No.” He pushed a hand through his hair as he entered, leaving it tumbled around his forehead.
Closing the door behind him, Catherine studied his unusually somber expression. “You look so serious. I thought maybe—”
“No, everything’s fine,” he assured her with a quick shake of his head. “I was just having second thoughts about intruding on you like this.”
“You aren’t interrupting anything. Norman and I were just watching TV.”
He glanced down at the cat, who sat attentively at his feet, gazing up at him as if waiting to be entertained. Mike reached down belatedly to scratch the cat’s ears. “Hey, Norman. Sorry to interrupt your program.”
“Can I get you anything?” Catherine offered, still uncertain of his mood. “Soda? Tea?”
“No, I’m fine.” Mike straightened and pushed his fingertips into his jeans pockets. “I just thought I’d let you know I got an A on my quiz today. The professor posted the answers after class and I only missed one out of twenty questions.”