Dating-ish (Knitting in the City #6)(45)

"Also," Elizabeth lowered her voice to almost a whisper, "can you check in on Quinn tonight? You and Fiona are the only ones he'll talk to. Seriously, the dude does not look good."

Elizabeth was Janie's best friend and, interestingly enough, she didn't particularly get along with Quinn, but I knew for a fact she cared about him. The problem was Elizabeth and Quinn were just too much alike. Similarly, Nico and Janie were alike in their optimistic and sweet dispositions.

"Yeah, well, he's probably terrified." Sandra blew out an audible breath. "Poor guy."

"Okay. Yes. He'll be at the hospital?" I asked, mentally rearranging my next twenty-four hours. It wouldn't be a big deal, as my job was blessedly flexible.

"Yep. I don't think he'll leave until Janie is discharged. I'm having a bed brought in for him. Hold on." I heard Elizabeth move the phone away from her ear while she gave someone an order. "Okay, I'm back. Listen, I'm going to try to see if we can do knit night at the hospital this week. I think it should be fine as long as we don't stay too late or drink . . . too much." 

"Got it. I'll spread the word." I made a mental note to message Fiona and Kat as well as bring my laptop so Ashley could join us.

"Thanks. Love you, Marie. And you too, Sandra. Talk soon."

"Bye, honey," I said. "And don't forget you need sleep, too. Take a rest." I had a feeling Elizabeth was probably at the hospital past her shift. Every time I'd called her over the last few weeks she'd been working and Sunday afternoons were usually her day off.

"Thanks for keeping us in the loop," Sandra added.

We clicked off the call, sharing another look and sigh.

"Well, I'm awake," Sandra said with wide, sober eyes. "I swear, that scared me half to death."

"Imagine how Janie feels." I couldn't help my solemn expression. "I hope she's okay. I should bring her a comic book."

The line of Sandra's mouth turned frustrated. "That poor woman, this has been the pregnancy from hell."

I was just about to agree when the apartment door opened and Alex announced, "We're here."

"Eep!" Sandra tossed the blanket from her lap and jumped up, running toward the hall leading to the front door.

As soon as Alex appeared, she flung herself into his arms. I couldn't help but smile at the two of them as he lifted her off the ground and carry-hugged her back into the living room.

"Hey! How was the thing?" Sandra asked, covering his face with kisses.

"Fine." Alex placed a biting kiss on her neck and bent, setting her back down on the couch and kissing her again on the forehead, then lips.

"Where'd you go?" I asked, catching some movement at the entryway and doing a double take at the image of Matt hovering just inside the room.

I froze. But my heart didn't. It began galloping in my chest.

Gack! There he is.

His eyes were on me, his expression neutral, though I was fairly certain he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

We hadn't spoken in almost three weeks, not since I'd made him coconut curry and he'd helped me translate his graphs. I'd texted him, just once, asking how he was doing, but he never responded. I didn't follow up, deciding his silence spoke for him.

"Hi," I said on a breath.

"Friend Marie." He nodded his head once in greeting, stuffing his hands in his pockets, then to Sandra he said evenly, "Hi, Sandra."

Yep.

I was attracted to Matt Simmons.

Looking back at our few brief encounters, I'd begun to think that maybe he was attracted to me and my inadvertent friend-zoning had put him off. However, by his own admission, his last marriage had fallen apart because he and his wife couldn't be bothered to make time for each other, more or less.

"Matthew," Sandra said, saltiness in her tone.

I slid my eyes to Sandra, giving her a suspicious look. "Matthew?"

"He knows what he did." Sandra returned her attention to the blanket.

"What did you do?" I looked to Matt for a clue, becoming a little lost in his dark, lovely, attractive, expressive eyes, the window to his huge and impressive brain.

Actually, seemingly out of the blue, everything about him was attractive.

My heart was still beating wildly and I fought against a blush rising to my cheeks because my own traitorous brain picked that moment to remember the feel of his lips brushing against the back of my neck.

So what? You cuddled. Once. He's off limits.

And, lest you forget, Matthew Simmons is allergic to committed relationships with anything other than his job. And you're not his type. And, and, and . . .