Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(101)

“Fine. I’ll apologize on Wednesday,” he grumbled.

“What’s on Wednesday?”

“Reading the will, estate business. The appointment is for eight thirty, but the transfer process will take all day. It might be good for you to also attend. You need to get a sense of her properties, assets, investments, and material worth.”

“Yeah, all right.” I scratched my jaw. “I’ll move things around on my schedule, clear the day, and we’ll drive over together.”

“Good. Our estate management group will be arriving at noon, and I’ve arranged for the New York office vice president of estate finance at Brooks and Quail to join us at three.”

“Brooks and Quail?” Holy shit. Quinn and I had been trying to get a meeting with the elusive finance giant for years, and she had the VP of estate finance flying to Boston to meet with just her.

Eugene nodded, his shrewd gaze drifted back to the stairs where Kat had disappeared.

I tugged on my ear, continued inspecting him, trying to figure out this guy’s motivation. Cutting to the chase, I stated the obvious, “You love her. Like she was your kid.”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate, or seemed surprised by what I’d said. But then he added, his eyes turning shrewd, “But loving her doesn’t mean she owes you anything.”

We traded glares, because I got the sense he wasn’t just talking about himself. His words were a warning shot, a reminder not to get my hopes up or expect too much.

Or want too much.

He was right.

I’d had a front-row ticket to the implosion of my parents’ marriage, he didn’t need to remind me what tragic, one-sided love and unequal affection looked like.

And so, I continued to keep my distance.

But on Monday . . .

On Monday, she ambushed me.

I’d just finished a phone call with our main resource in Australia, a follow-up from my trip, when Kat knocked on the study door and poked her head in.

“Hey,” she said, like she wanted to say more, or had a speech prepared.

I also noticed she was wearing a dress, a little black dress, with long sleeves and a short skirt. Not ass-cheeks hanging out short, but—you know—short. Her feet were bare, which meant her legs were also bare.

“Hey.” I swallowed and I stood. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, but then I was stuck standing for no reason, like an idiot asshole. “Uh, how you doing?”

“Okay.” Kat walked into the study and I saw she was clutching her phone to her chest. Her hair was down. “Are you busy?”

I shook my head, walking slowly around to the other side of the desk. “Nope. What’s up? Are you hungry?”

“No. What time does your mom get off work?” She closed the study door behind her.

“I think seven.” My attention dropped to her legs, then I crowbarred my eyes back to her face. “Or maybe eight.”

She licked her lips, nodding, still clutching her phone. “So, I know this is short notice, and maybe it’s not appropriate—not that we have to take any action—but I just spoke to my therapist on the phone.”

“Oh?” I scratched my neck. I didn’t know why I was scratching my neck.

Because you’re picturing her naked, shitbird. Oh. That’s right. My bad.

“Yes.” She stood before me, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, staring at me like she hoped I would read her mind.

So I said, “That’s good.”

“It is. We’ve been talking for the last hour. I just talked to her about everything with my dad. We also talked about . . . other things.”

“Other things?”

She nodded, took a breath, and waited.

Her meaning dawned on me all at once, and I stepped away from the desk. She meant sex stuff.

“Oh. Did you want—I mean, is she—does she want to talk now?” I couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“Dr. Kasai can’t, she has another client, but she did give me some direction, um, suggestions that I thought I’d go over with you.” Kat seemed to study me intently. “Do you think this is okay? I mean, while I’m in mourning? Does this seem disrespectful?”

“I don’t know the rules of shiva, but I think it’s fine,” said the horny scumbag. “I mean, we’re just talking here, right? And talking to your therapist about anything right now seems like a good idea.” Clearly, I had no shame.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Good. That’s what I was thinking.”

“Is she—?” I gestured to Kat’s cell.

“No. I already hung up. Can we sit in here? To talk?”

Why am I nervous?