Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(64)

“Thank you.” Accepting the key, I moved to depart.

But then Charles stepped forward and inserted his foot into the opening, preventing the doors from sliding closed. “She’s a nice lady.”

“Pardon me?”

“Mr. O’Malley’s mom. She’s a little scary, but nice. She’s going to be protective.” He removed his foot, adding just as the doors slid shut, “Don’t take it personally.”

I stared at the reflective surface of the closed panels for a half minute, my mind tripping over the ramifications I’d neglected to fully consider and plan for prior to marrying Dan.

He had a mother, a family. I knew this.

But what I didn’t know? What would he tell them about me? Would I meet them? What would we say?

Will they like me?

Preoccupied, I made my way to Dan’s apartment and changed into my Friday outfit. I then selected a set of clothes for him—something comfortable, that he could sleep in if needed—while endeavoring not to ogle his underwear drawer.

For the record, he wore boxer briefs.

Also, for the record, I felt oddly guilty that I’d ogled his boxer briefs, but not so guilty as to deter me from purposely grabbing a red pair for him. However, the guilt did extend to the fact that should he change into them, I would know he was wearing red boxer briefs.

But enough about Dan’s underwear.

I also grabbed a few toiletries and placed everything in my backpack.

More guilt because, I’m not going to lie, I sniffed his cologne. I closed my eyes, lifted it to my nose, and took a deep breath, sighing dreamily.

Obviously, it smelled like him—not exactly like him, but pretty darn close—and it gave me squishy feelings in my middle. Seconds turned to minutes as I debated whether or not to snap a picture of the label. In the end, I succumbed to temptation, justifying the action by telling myself I’d buy him more for his birthday.

Buying one’s husband cologne for a birthday is completely normal, therefore I am completely normal. I’m the normalest in all the land!

But I wasn’t normal. I was creeping on Dan’s underwear drawer and cologne. How would I feel if he’d done the same to me?

Excited.

And flattered.

I had no idea if those thoughts were normal. I hoped they were, but I suspected they were not.

Shortly after indulging myself, and after a brief moment of searching for Wally, I remembered Dan had mentioned Wally was with Alex. I sent Alex a quick text as I made my way to the lobby.



Kat: Janie is in labor, Dan is at the hospital, and I’m meeting them there and have their bags. Can you keep Wally tonight?





Alex: Yes. I’ll let Sandra know and track down the others. She’ll be there as soon as she gets off work.





Kat: Thank you.





Alex: No problem. Keep us updated.





I read and re-read Alex’s texts, an odd pang in my chest. With very few words, he’d communicated so much about how he and Sandra valued Janie and Quinn. It warmed my heart, this community we’d built. I wondered if it was rare, or if these little pockets of love and support existed elsewhere.

I hoped they did.



The first words Quinn said to me upon my walking into the private waiting room were, “She sent me on a snipe hunt.”

“Pardon me?”

His elbows were on his knees, his head in his hands. He spoke to the floor, “She kicked me out.”

I didn’t laugh. He looked so stressed.

Instead, bolstered by my hug success with Dan earlier in the day, I walked to him, sat next to him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Granted, he was so big my hands barely touched, but I held him anyway.

“I’m not going to say everything will be okay,”—I rested my chin on one bulky shoulder while his big hands came to my arm and held on—“but, Quinn, thousands of babies are born every day. We’re in one of the best hospitals in the world. Elizabeth will be there every step of the way. Janie is a force. So . . .”

He lifted his head, looking at me.

I held him tighter. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Quinn nodded, drawing in a deep breath, and twisted in his seat to return my embrace.

My heart stuttered, and the instinct to stiffen was almost overwhelming, but I fought it. I told myself to relax and snuggled closer, determined to provide support to my good friend’s husband in his time of need.

He’s your friend too, a little voice whispered.

I couldn’t figure out if it was a reminder or a revelation, but whatever it was, it helped me relax. Quinn was my friend. He might’ve been six foot forever and felt like he was made of granite, owned a global security firm and barely spoke six words at a time, had unsettling blue eyes and had always struck me as a little frightening, but he was still my friend.