Diego nods and walks in, heading for the living room with a familiarity I don’t like. I watch him move the coffee table against the wall, freeing the rug in front of the couch, and set a bunch of pillows down with the same ease as if he were at his place. I hate that I let him so far into my world.

I shut the door and join him. He’s seated on one side of the rug and has placed the carton box, still sealed, in the center. From a plastic bag, he unloads a series of different items: a soft blanket that he spreads over the rug, a plastic box that he fills with litter, a bowl in which he empties a small bag of dry cat food, and finally another bowl that he lifts toward me.

“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.