Zeus meows his displeasure as I head for the door.

His green eyes narrow as he unleashes a needy, distrustful meow that loosely translates into what on earth could possibly be more enticing out there than spending time with me in here?

I kneel and scratch his chin. “Dude, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Another wounded mewl makes it clear how abhorrent he finds the idea of my departure.

But that chin rub is so good he emits a little rumble, even though it’s clearly against his will.

“You’ll be fine. Daisy will visit you twice a day to give you food,” I say, reminding him that his favorite cat-sitter will pop by for regular visits. “You love her.”

His tail twitches like it does when he’s annoyed I haven’t fed him yet, when a bird is on the other side of the glass, and when I leave for a trip.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” I scratch between his ears. He arches his back and cranks up the volume. I’m forgiven. For a second.

In the elevator, I check my phone and find a missed message from last night.

From Mia.

It’s a picture of the douchey kangaroo she mentioned, only she’s edited the meme. The kangaroo has boobs now and is wearing a white bikini and red lipstick. The caption reads in blocky white letters: “Hey, guy, wanna see my pouch?”

I laugh hard, right from the gut.

Jesus.

It’s raunchy and goofy at the same damn time.

I peer closer at the time. She sent it after midnight. And I have half a mind to analyze what that means.

But I don’t.

Sometimes a meme is just a meme.

And sometimes a kiss never happens, and not even a kangaroo in drag can change the score.

Besides, she’s busy. Hell, I’m busy, too. It’s all for the best that the grocery lady came between us. Now, Mia and I can remain as we’ve always been. Friends. And we’ll always stay friends. This most excellent photo of a drag queen kangaroo is proof that we’re better off as buddies.

There are other fish in the sea. Hell, my own sister is a matchmaker. She might very well know someone. But when I reach the lobby and stride to the glass doors that open to the sidewalk, the woman I want to be with is running toward me.

She wears neon-green running shorts and a form-fitting white tank top. That is all.

Well, running shoes, of course. But I’m not lingering too long on the shoes. I’m looking at her trim body, those toned arms, her shapely legs, and then, my favorite part—her face. Her gorgeous, beautiful face, all rosy-cheeked from a morning run.

She beams when she sees me and practically rips her earbuds from her ears.

“Good morning,” she says with a cheery, infectious smile.

The corners of my lips curve up. “It is a good morning, indeed. What are you listening to?”

“A podcast.” She flashes the screen at me, and it’s a business-centric show.

I nod. “Ah, back in all-business mode?”

She narrows her eyes and wags her finger at me. “Yes, but it’s good because . . .” She lifts her arms and chants “ahhh,” as if she’s an angel sent from on high to issue a heavenly pronouncement. “I had an epiphany.”

“Oh yeah?”

She drops her arms and pokes my chest. “You were right. Stepping away from work cleared my head. All these ideas for where to go next with Pure Beauty came rushing in.” She adds a whoosh sound effect like a stream.

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yes, really! I swear, Patrick. Everything came together for me yesterday in a mad rush. Then it crystallized last night.”

“Like new product lines and stuff?”

“Maybe,” she says, a little coyness to her tone.

“Ah, I know. It’s beauty products for cats, right?”

“Absolutely,” she says, in mock seriousness. She strokes her cheek. “It’ll make their fur even softer.” She notices the gear in my hand and on my back and stops to stare at my bags, then at me. “Do you have a tour?”

I nod. “That I do.”

Her smile disappears. Her lips turn into a sad line. “For how long?”

“Most of the week.”

“You’re not around the next few days?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be back in time for the wedding.”

“Wow,” she says under her breath, as if she’s been thrown for a loop. Her reaction intrigues me, makes me wonder if she wanted me around. But before I can noodle on that, she seems to find her bearings. “What about Zeus? Do you need me to feed him?”

I smile. “He has a regular cat-sitter.” I cross my index and middle fingers. “He and Daisy are like that.”

Her mouth drops into a full-on frown. An absolutely magnificent pout. “Please. I want to spend time with him. He’s so cute. Let me do it. I’ll be here all week.” She makes the sign of the cross on her chest. “And I swear I won’t look through your medicine cabinet.”

I laugh. “You are more than welcome to check out my toothpaste and deodorant. It’s Crest and the Trader Joe’s brand.”

“You spoiled the surprise,” she says, stomping her foot. She screws up one corner of her lips as if she’s plotting something nefarious. “Well, there’s always your fridge.”

“Condiments, Jackrabbit. Condiments as far as the eye can see. All the mustard varieties in the world are at your disposal. But feel free to paw around in my boxer briefs drawer.”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “Is your high school yearbook there?”

I sigh. “Mia, I didn’t keep a copy of it, and you just made sure that Daisy will remain my sitter.”

She parks her hands on her hips. “I promise I’ll be good. I really want to help you, since you helped me immensely yesterday. And I like the . . . pussycat,” she says, tiptoeing and leaning close to my ear. Just like that, with her body near me, her dirty words on my neck, I give in.

“Fine. You can feed him. I’ll text Daisy and let her know I have it covered, and I’ll get you a key.”

She claps her hands. “Excellent.” Then her smile burns off. “About last night . . .”

I wave a hand dismissively. I need to get in the zone before this rafting trip. No need to bring any baggage over what didn’t happen. “Don’t worry about it.”

“The picture?”

“No,” I say slowly, pointing behind me to the building. “The elevator, right?”

“Sure. The elevator.”

“It’s fine. No big deal,” I say, keeping it light and easy. Casual even. “We’re friends, right? It’s all good.”

She blinks as if she’s startled. “Right. Friends.” Each word comes out at the speed of molasses. She sounds sad about that prospect, but isn’t that what we are? We almost kissed, and then she didn’t come over later. No big deal. It happens. The elevator was a blip, a moment in time. Now, we need to be friends again. Friends who’ve never kissed.

“You’re taking care of my cat. We’re clearly friends.”

She smiles, but it’s a kind I’ve never seen on her before. A smile I can’t read. “We’re totally buds.” She smacks my shoulder like a dude would do.

I head back inside, grab my spare key from the concierge desk, and hand it to her, along with instructions on feeding the cat. Then, I remember one last detail.

“My suit is coming back from the cleaners on Wednesday. They’ll deliver it, but any chance you can grab it from the concierge? I don’t like to leave things there too long. Those guys are pretty busy and deliveries pile up.”

“I’ll grab it, no problem. You spent your day off with me yesterday. The least I can do is get your suit and feed your cat.” She smiles again, that same unrecognizable variety, before she adds, “It’s what a friend would do.”

Ah, got it. It’s the friend smile. It’s clear that’s what we’re going to be. That must be what she’s preferred all along.

Good thing I have the next four days on the raging waters to reset our relationship to the friend zone.