I was dangling off my roof with a fat cat in my arms when my ex hauled me to the ER—so, yes, we’re off to a classy start. Greg’s the gorgeous, infuriating neighbor I once kicked into traffic after a rainy-day breakup. Now he’s carrying me like a bride while I swear at him. I’m a sharp-mouthed trainer with zero patience for romance, a judgmental cat with copper eyes, and a phone full of terrible swipes I made on a lonely Friday. Also, a minor meeting the devil might have changed me more than I’d like to admit. We agreed to stop sleeping together. We also agreed we’re bad at stopping. Between neighbors-again proximity, late-night confessions, and one very opinionated cat, the line between “bad idea” and “right person” starts to blur. If I’m brave enough to want more, this might be love—with claws.