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She stared up at him in amazement. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. And she suddenly became aware that he was still touching her. Heat zinged through her body.

He moved his hand back and she cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. It wouldn’t be good to slide into a pile of goo at his feet, would it?

“But he was your friend. I shouldn’t say stuff about him to you.”

“I knew him a long time ago. Wouldn’t say we were exactly friends. He’s gone, you’re here, and I’m meant to take care of you. So you tell me whatever you have to.”

“Right. Thanks,” she told him. “When you made that promise to Charlie, I bet you didn’t think you’d ever have to do this much work, huh?”

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed.

He turned away toward the sink, and she rolled her eyes. He could have at least pretended that she wasn’t a whole lot of work.

Sighing, she drew a frozen lasagna out of the freezer. Yum, she loved lasagna, just like Garfield.

“While that’s cooking, do you mind if I have a shower and get into my pajamas? I’m kind of tired.”

“Go for it,” he told her. “I’m just going to finish up some stuff outside.”

“I’ll come help you,” she offered.

“You just said you were tired.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve got a sudden burst of energy.”

“What did I say to you about lying to me?”

Oh, crap. He had told her that she wasn’t to lie to him, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, just a slight exaggeration, so surely that didn’t count, right?

“Go shower,” he commanded. “I’ll only be a few minutes. There’s not much to do.”

Right, good. She put Kevin back into his cage while she had a shower and then pulled on her Garfield pajamas, along with her Garfield slippers.

Maybe she should try and put on some of her more adult pajamas, but she wasn’t in the mood to pretend right now.

She just wanted her comfortable things around her.

Aimee had to force herself to leave Owly McOwlFace as she walked into the kitchen to check on the lasagna.

When she entered the kitchen, she found that Ammo already had the lasagna out, and was checking it.

“Going to take a bit longer,” he said, turning to her.

He ran his gaze over her, and she braced herself for him to say something about her childish pajamas.

“Is that the cat that likes lasagna?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s Garfield. Kind of thought it was apt to wear these pajamas when we’re having lasagna for dinner.”

He just grunted and nodded.

She took out a French baguette that she’d gotten a couple of days ago, whipped up some garlic butter, and then sliced the bread, putting the butter between the slices before wrapping it in foil and popping it into the oven.

“And do you want a beer or something?” she asked as she peered into the fridge.

“Yeah, go on,” he said.

She grabbed out two beers and handed him one before taking a sip of hers.