Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(48)

“Nah.” I swallowed a gulp of soda, returning the turkey sandwich to the platter and reached for the cheese steak. “But if you want to take responsibility for your father being a suck-ass parent, ignoring you, and dealing with a cry for help by ignoring his kid some more,”—I shrugged—“then I guess that’s your choice. Just like it’s my choice to write your father off as a heartless prick.”

She stared at me, looking a little confused and a lot irritated. “You don’t know my father. He was—he is—a great man.”

I shook my head, because this fucking guy.

I knew about this guy. I’d known a little about him before Kat had asked me to marry her and I’d researched him a lot over the last week. He’d developed a drug or cure for something, something big and profitable, though I’d forgotten what. And he’d donated a lot of money to a lot of charities. All the pictures of him cutting ribbons and holding other people’s babies, he always looked so superior and deserving.

As far as I was concerned, he deserved jack fucking squat, and he certainly didn’t deserve Kat’s loyalty.

“No, he might’ve been a great scientist and philanthropist, but he was definitely a shitty man.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, like it was important to her that I kiss the ass of this wankface’s legacy. Fuck that.

Thankfully, her cell vibrated again in her hand, drawing her attention away from my words.

She sighed.

“Eugene?” I guessed.

“Yes,” she growled.

I hid another smile behind my sandwich. Let the record show, Kit-Kat was wicked sexy when she growled. She was wicked sexy all the time. Maybe I should’ve had more respect for her struggle, for this difficult time she was going through, and shouldn’t have been noticing how her bottom lip pushed out when she lifted her chin, or how her eyes—even when cold and detached—were the most gorgeous fucking eyes I’d ever seen.

Yeah. Good luck not noticing, Danny boy. Just pray to all the angels and saints that she doesn’t bend over to pick something up.

I almost choked on my bite of sandwich just thinking about it. But then, as usual when I started thinking about her this way, Kat’s declaration from that morning in Vegas echoed through my mind.

“I’ve never been good at monogamy,” she’d said.

I’d decided a long time ago that, just like how my Aunt Becks’s choices weren’t my business, as long as nobody was getting hurt, other people doing what made them happy shouldn’t concern me. It wasn’t my place to judge, or even have an opinion. My aunt had found a lifestyle that made her happy. Why should I throw shit at her parade?

That said . . . I really fucking hated it that Kat was polyamorous.

You’re such an asshole.

“He’s not going to let this go,” Kat muttered, rubbing her forehead again.

“Let what go?” I’d forgotten what we were talking about. I’d been too preoccupied lamenting Kat’s lifestyle choices and what it meant for my dick.

Not for the first time since she’d asked me last week, I was having dumbass thoughts about maybe, possibly, this whole marriage thing working out for us. For example, let’s say, hypothetically, if there were some way I could keep her all to myself while we were married, even if at first it remained platonic between us—

Wait a second, IF it remains platonic? Of course it’s going to remain platonic. She asked you to marry her, Daniel. Not feed the kitty.

She needed help, not more complications. I knew this.

However—for example, let’s say, hypothetically—if one day her kitty is hungry, I’ll be there to feed it.

See? I’m an asshole.

But at least I’m an honest asshole.

“Don’t worry about it.” She glowered at her phone, leaning forward while she typed out a message.

My attention dropped to the screen and—if I squinted, which I did—I could make out the last few texts.

Eugene: Did he sign the postnup?





Eugene: As a reminder, it’s in your email inbox. An informal signature is fine. We can execute a more formal version with witnesses the next time you’re in Boston.





Kat: I’m not asking him. Stop texting me.





I snatched her phone before she could hit send on the last text.

“Hey!” She reached for her cell, but I held it out and to the side.

A postnup.

Again, another thing I should’ve anticipated. Why the hell hadn’t I thought about that?

“You gotta be kidding me with this. Of course I’m signing a postnup, Kat. Are you serious? You weren’t going to ask me?”

“Dan—”