“Can you fill this with water?” he asks.

I make a quick dash to the kitchen, fill the bowl, and carefully place it next to the food. With nothing else left to do, I sit on the opposite side of the rug—as far from Diego as the reduced square footage of New York living space allows.

Diego turns the carrier box toward me, placing his hand on the latch. “Ready?” he asks.

I nod.

“A word of warning.” The grin he’s been suppressing since stepping on my landing finally appears in a half-smile. “He’s very cute.”

I scowl at him and wait for him to open the box. As soon as he does, two tiny, half-white paws step into the light, followed by the cutest furry face I’ve ever seen. The kitten is a brown-gray tabby, but with a streak of auburn fur that covers his nose and spreads in a small inverted triangle between his eyes. His paws and underbelly are white.

If my heart wasn’t melted before, it is now. Like with Diego, my first instinct is to take the mini cat into my arms and hug the little furball to my chest.

The urge must be written all over my face, because Diego warns me, “Let him come to you.”

We watch patiently as the kitten walks out on the blanket and sniffs the surrounding air.

“Hello, you,” I say.

I’m already in love.

“Mew,” he meows in response.

The kitty follows his sense of smell to the food bowl, eats a little, drinks, and then he climbs over my left knee to land in my lap, purring. Oh, he’s a cuddler. I can’t resist any longer; I plunge my hands into his soft fur and give him a full-body scratch. The kitty seems to appreciate the contact, because he starts making muffins on my leg, then curls into a tiny ball and goes to sleep.

“Seems like you two are a good fit,” Diego says.

I look up, startled. For a moment I’d forgotten he was here.

The smile he’d been trying to hide before is now wide and warm and… heart-shattering, unfortunately for me.

“I’m in no way mollified,” I tell him.

The grin now turns foxy. “Of course you aren’t.”

“So.” I pause for effect. “What are you doing here?”

Before he can answer, the buzzer goes off again.

“It’s the pizza,” I say. “Do you mind getting that?”

I don’t want to disturb the cat.

Diego gets up and comes back two minutes later carrying a family-sized pizza box.

He places the box in front of me and eyes it suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not expecting company?”

“No,” I reply, and to justify the disproportionate pizza, I add, “I thought I’d warm some for lunch tomorrow.”

So not true. Left to myself, I would’ve scarfed down the whole thing tonight. I mean, single and alone on New Year’s Eve, a girl deserves her pizza.

I open the box and, with the aid of a few paper napkins, bring the first slice to my mouth. Mmm, it’s delicious.