Rooftop Deals & Cat Problems

The first time I met her, she was rescuing a pigeon with a broken wing, and I remember thinking that’s stupid. But I tripped on a piece of rock on the ground and when I woke up I was in love.

This was back at the University of Neon.

And from then on, my heart started doing this annoying little skip whenever she was around.

I was mid-practicing how to sound casual — somewhere between “Oh hey” and “Hey stranger” — when my phone buzzed.

Serena calling.

My thumb hovered for a second too long before I answered.

“Hey!” I said, a little too loudly.

“Wow,” she laughed. “That enthusiastic to hear from me?”

“Always,” I replied, trying not to sound like a golden retriever in human form. “You done with work?”

“Just finished. My last client was a momma’s boy with separation anxiety. Cried the whole time.”

“Relatable,” I muttered.

She chuckled, and just like that, my shoulders dropped an inch.

“So,” she said, dragging it out like a tease, “what’s up, Max? Why are you outside the office on your day off?”

I blinked. How does she know I’m outside?
Her office is on the second floor — opposite side of the building, no windows near this courtyard. Unless…

I looked around, squinting into the light.

“Look up, Max,” she said.

I did.

She was standing on the rooftop, arms waving like she was hailing a helicopter. Her silhouette against the afternoon sun made my heart stutter. Again.

“Come on. Up.”

Okay, this is it.

Showtime.

I’d practiced this conversation last night with Daphne — not that she was helpful. But I was prepared. Calm. Smooth. Had the whole plan laid out. Meet her somewhere public-ish, somewhere she’d feel relaxed.

Plus, I didn’t know where she lived, so the rooftop was perfect.

I took the stairs up past the third floor, heart thumping with every step. At the rooftop door, I paused, ran a hand through my hair, and pushed it open.

The wind met me first — soft and cool — carrying the scent of city dust and late-blooming jasmine from somewhere below.

Serena stood near the edge of the roof, facing the skyline, her back to me.

She wore a long, flowing dust-pink abaya, its fabric light and whisper-thin, shifting with the breeze like it had a heartbeat of its own. It shimmered faintly where the sun kissed it — not quite translucent, but enough to hint at the rainbow-colored bra underneath.

Even the sun had an agenda of its own.

It wasn’t the clothing. It was her in it. The stillness in her posture. The quiet strength in the way she stood, arms tucked loosely at her sides.

She looked like a still frame from a movie — the kind that stays with you long after the credits roll.

I silenced my phone and slipped it into my pocket. No distractions.

As I stepped closer, she turned. A smile unfolded on her lips, slow and familiar. She pulled me into a hug — quick, but warm. Grounding. No more no less, I always say.

As we stepped apart, the top button of her abaya slipped loose. She noticed but didn’t rush, just took her time fixing it while keeping her eyes on me. There was something effortless about it — the kind of grace you couldn’t fake.

“So,” she said, stretching the word. “What problem can I help you with?”

“Wow. Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, fine.” I sighed. “I’m in a tiny bit of a situation involving a cat. And kittens. Possibly five of them.”

Her brow lifted, amused. “You got a cat?”

“She sort of… adopted me, really. And now she’s a mom. But my great aunt is violently allergic. Like deathly so.”

“Oh no. Is she okay?”

“She’s alive. Unfortunately.”

“Max.”

“I mean — she’s fine!” I said quickly. “Very alive. Just… dramatic. As always. But yeah, the cats can’t stay with me. And everyone I trust is either out of town or busy turning pets into TikTok clout.”

“Stephen’s getting out of hand.”

I laughed. “He sent you that rock dance challenge, too?”

“Unfortunately…”

We both laughed again, and she placed a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was light, but steady. Reassuring.

I’m trying not to read too much into this, as I usually do.

“So you’re asking me to babysit a cat family?”

“I’ll bring food. Litter. Toys. They’re adorable. Very low-maintenance. And Lucy — that’s the mom — she’s got this whole cool, single-mom-who-don’t-need-no-man vibe.”

She took a pause. Her smile returned, slow and teasing.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll do it. On one condition.”

“Anything. Seriously. I owe you.”

“Hmmm…” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “I haven’t decided what I want yet. Bring them tomorrow ... and I’ll tell you what you owe me then.”

She turned and started toward the stairwell, laughing softly to herself.

That was worrying.

I blinked. “No funny business, right?”

“I’m rescuing kittens and an overwhelmed cat dad. The least you can do is compensate me.”

Now I was definitely worried.

“Okay,” I said, chuckling nervously.

“Great,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll send you the address when I get home.”

The rooftop door clicked shut behind her.

I stood there for a moment, the wind tugging gently at my shirt. A smile pulled at my lips — uninvited but not unwelcome.

Okay. That went better than I hoped.