Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(35)

This Tuesday was Sandra’s turn to host; on my way to her apartment I had to walk past Dan’s; this filled me with an assortment of indescribably odd feelings. I knew he wasn’t there. I knew he was in New York. I knew I would see him on Thursday. And all of this knowledge was strange and clumsy. It was like we’d been on the sidelines of each other’s lives for years, and now—quite suddenly—we were on the same field together, playing as teammates.

Shaking off the peculiar self-consciousness, I knocked on Sandra and Alex’s door, pulling the lemon loaf from my bag. Alex answered.

I gave him a small smile and I held out the loaf. “Hi.”

Instead of moving to the side and motioning me in wordlessly—which he’d done every single time I’d ever knocked on their door—he stepped forward, pulling the door behind him mostly closed, seemingly both startled by and keenly interested in my presence.

“Kat.”

I backed up automatically to give him room, but I was so surprised by his abrupt movement into the hall, it took me a moment to react.

Alex was over six feet tall, so I retreated further backward rather than tilt my head to meet his gaze. “Is something wrong?”

“How are you?” he asked, sounding concerned, his attention disconcerting.

I’d known Alex for a year and a half, since he and Sandra had unexpectedly married. I knew he was a world-class hacker. I also knew he loved and was completely devoted to Sandra. And that was basically all I knew.

Like me, he didn’t talk much. But he had this presence about him that made me wary, like he was dangerous. Or could be dangerous if he chose to be. As I usually did with people who made me nervous, I mostly avoided him.

“Okay. And how are you?” I clutched the lemon loaf to my chest.

He squinted. “What’s going on? Do you need help? How can I help?”

That had me blinking furiously. “I—I—I’m not sure—”

“You and Dan getting married. That was sudden. I haven’t told anyone. Not Sandra. Not Quinn.”

I snapped my mouth shut, startled by his statements. His gaze was too intense, unsettling, but strangely not in a bad way. More like he was really, really concerned for my well-being.

Yet, still unsettling.

I released a breath, my eyes moving to the door behind him as I tried to pull my thoughts together. “Uh, Dan and I, it was sudden. How did you find out?”

“I’m tapped into government—uh—databases.” He said databases slowly, giving me the impression it wasn’t as benign as the word databases implied. “I have alerts set up for a few people.”

“You have alerts set up for me?” I asked before I could consider my words.

Alex stared at me, his expression thoughtful. “Would it freak you out if I said I did?”

“A little, yes.”

“Then, no.”

I studied him for a beat. “You’re lying.”

“Correct.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes, bringing my fingertips to my forehead, and freaking out a little.

“You’re important,” he said, as though those two simple words explained his actions.

Scoffing, I rubbed the space between my eyebrows. “I’m not sure how important I am.”

I heard Alex gather a breath before saying, “You have the potential to make a real, lasting difference. You’ll soon control over half the voting shares for the second largest pharmaceutical company in the world. You’ll be able to influence drug development and health policy globally, maybe even cure a few diseases, control a vast number of lobbyists. So, yeah. I’d say you’re important.”

My eyes cut to his and I found him watching me with a peculiar kind of focus. I wasn’t surprised he knew who I was. Dan had known; I imagined Quinn also knew.

And yet, none of them have ever brought it up until now, or made an issue out of it, or asked me about it, or asked for anything.

Alex continued, “Completely independently of all that, you’re important. So let me help.” He motioned toward the apartment behind him. “Why, if you’ve been married for a month, doesn’t anyone else know?”

Frustrated that Alex knew as much as he did, I glared at him. It’s not that I didn’t trust him. But at the same time, I didn’t trust him. I didn’t know him. Making my problems other people’s problems—especially people I didn’t know very well—made me exceedingly uncomfortable.

Yet here we were. He knew Dan and I were married, and he hadn’t shared the news, with anyone, not even his wife.

Choosing my words carefully, I allowed myself to admit this much. “I asked Dan to marry me on Thursday, and I haven’t had an opportunity yet to fill him in on the whole story. This has all moved incredibly fast. Once I bring Dan up to speed, then we’ll let everyone know.”