Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(18)

Glancing at the screen of my phone, I re-read her message as I walked out of the room and down the hall. Pressing the button for the elevator, I decided I couldn’t call her and tell her I’d forgotten. That was not an option. So I ran through the list of things my mom wanted the most, ranked highest to lowest:

Me getting married and settling down.

Me giving her more grandkids.

Me moving home to Boston and buying a house on her street.

Me going to stay for every major holiday for the rest of my life.

Me asking her advice about every major decision for the rest of my life.

Four of the five weren’t possible. They just weren’t. The first three because they were impossible for me to do within the next twenty-four hours, and the last one wasn’t going to happen because I wasn’t a helpless asshole.

Number four would have to do it. I’d pledge at least five years of holidays as penance. So be it.

Plus, I was going to have to make up a lie about why I hadn’t called yet, and it was going to have to be good. If I told her the truth, that I’d forgotten, it would legitimately hurt her feelings. There was nothing I wouldn’t do—including lie, cheat, and steal—to avoid hurting my mom’s feelings.

Getting on the elevator, I pressed the button for my floor and leaned against the cushioned velvet wall, tired. So damn tired. I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed.

But first things first. I’d apologize to Steven and then spend some time with Wally while I called my mom.

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment, I called out, “Hey, Steven. Sorry I'm so fucking late. Quinn has me doing this fucking thing with the corporate division, and those fancy fuckers need more hand-holding than my one-year-old nephew. I swear, I thought that Townsend douchebag was going to ask me to jerk him off.”

I pulled at the tie around my neck, grateful to remove the noose. Laying the tie over my jacket, I tossed both to the chair in the entryway, frowning at the darkness.

And the silence.

“Steven?”

No answer. But then a lamp switched on someplace in the family room, the light spilling into the hallway as I unbuttoned my collar and the top three buttons of my shirt.

And where the hell was Wally? Typically he waited by the door, ready to lash me with his whip of a tail.

Wally was always a bundle of energy whenever I came home. Didn't matter the time of day, he’d wag his tail so hard sometimes he’d knock himself over. I’d adopted him when he was only six weeks old. Now he was four, but I swear, he still acted like a puppy, loved to be held.

My boy was a good-sized dog, a Labrador/terrier mix—plus some other stuff, I was sure—so the best kind of dog, with the best personality traits from each breed in his ancestry. Smart, friendly, gentle and patient with kids. I was convinced that dog had a sixth sense about things, especially people.

For example, Wally didn’t like Seamus. Every time he’d come around, Wally would growl and bark, didn’t want Seamus touching him.

He knew my brother was a nasty fucker. You could tell a lot about a person based on how they interacted with animals. I didn’t trust people who didn’t like dogs; they’re not my people. How could you dislike dogs? They’re the best fucking thing about this planet, with hockey, sex, and a good Irish whiskey taking places two, three, and four.

Plus, dogs were loyal. There’s nothing more loyal than a dog. Probably because they had their priorities straight: food, sleep, and chasing shit.

But enough about my awesome dog, for now.

Unbuttoning the right cuff of my suit shirt, I strolled into the main room. “Steven, again, I’m sorry about being so late. If I—”

Holy shit.

I stopped short, rocking back on my heels, staring like a dummy at the wholly unanticipated image of Kat Tanner rubbing her eyes as she ungracefully stood from the couch. And Wally lifting his head from where he’d been curled up next to her.

“Kat.”

“Hi, Dan.”

I was dreaming. It was the only explanation. I was already asleep and this was one of my fantasies, because Kat was the only woman who’d consistently starred in my dirty dreams.

This was a dream. I almost crossed the room and kissed her. But I didn’t, because Wally was there. Wally had never been a star player in my fantasies, and I believed that made me 100 percent normal.

Wide-eyed, I stared at her, having no words. If my sisters were here, they’d have a field day, seeing me tongue-tied and brain-dead.

Luckily, she filled the silence as Wally jumped off the couch and rushed to me, as though just realizing I’d arrived. What a stinker.

“Steven let me in. He said I could wait for you. I hope you don’t mind.”