21
Emma
“You know, you’ve never mentioned your father,” Marcus says as we sit down to eat, finally sans cats. Cottonball has adjusted to being in a new place like a champ, but convincing Queen Elizabeth to climb down from my shoulder took almost twenty minutes, as did getting Mr. Puffs out from under the couch and to his litter box. Now, though, all three cats are relatively calm and roaming around the penthouse, with Geoffrey doing his best to keep them from getting into trouble.
I told him it was futile, but he’s determined to try.
Spearing a piece of asparagus, I consider Marcus’s words. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I don’t know who my father is, so I never think about him.”
“Your mother never told you?”
“She didn’t know herself. I was conceived during one of the less discriminati
