Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(65)

He released me and sighed, glancing at the door to the delivery room and sitting back in his chair. Silence surrounded us, more or less. We could hear people speaking on the other side of the door, but the words sounded muffled. Hospital noises—like beeping machines, rolling carts, footsteps—approached and faded from the hallway.

I fretted. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t wise like Marie or Fiona. They would know what to say. Nor was I Elizabeth, who would be able to distract Quinn from his fears by annoying him. And I wasn’t Sandra or Ashley, who would be able to make him laugh.

I was Kat. The quiet one. Why was I the quiet one?

In non-business situations, I never know if what I’m going to say will make everything worse.

And so I fretted.

After a time, Quinn cleared his throat and crossed his arms, glancing in my direction. “You and Dan are married.”

I stiffened.

His mouth curved in the barest of smiles. “Is it a secret?”

I inspected him for a few seconds. Apparently, Quinn found this development amusing.

“No. It’s not a secret.”

“I have a lot of questions.” His piercing blue eyes studied me, and if it weren’t for his mouth’s subtle curve, his probing gaze would have made me nervous.

“Why don’t you ask Dan?”

His smile fell away and was replaced with a look of slight confusion. “We don’t talk about that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Feelings.”

“You were going to ask me about my feelings?”

“Yes.”

I felt my eyebrows jump. “Really?”

“What are your intentions toward Dan?”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled. And then I laughed. I laughed partially because the moment was so surreal, but also partially because Quinn’s worry for Dan—because, make no mistake, he was worried—was adorable.

These two guys . . . Friendship goals.

Once more, his mouth arched into a hint of a smile, but he continued staring at me like he was waiting for my answer.

Returning his almost grin, I shrugged. “Honestly?”

“Honesty is my preference.”

I don’t know what spurred me to do it—perhaps it was a mixture of the bizarreness of the moment and my own lack of clarity on what was going on with Dan and me, or maybe bravery caused by elation caused by kissing Dan—but I told the absolute truth.

“He married me so my cousin Caleb wouldn’t commit me to a mental hospital. Everything was rushed, but I think he likes me. No, I’m sure he likes me. Or he wants to kiss me at least. And I like him—a lot—and want to be with him, hopefully for more than just kissing. We just discovered that maybe the reason we haven’t acted on our feelings is because of some stupid misunderstanding from over two years ago, and that’s tough to swallow. But at the same time, it might’ve been a blessing in disguise, because it forced me to take a good look at myself and decide to make some changes for the better. If we’d gotten together two years ago, then I wouldn’t have made those changes, and who knows if we would have lasted. I don’t know.”

I brought my gaze back to Quinn. He was looking at me. Just . . . looking. No expression.

Squirming in my seat, I blurted, “My intentions are to deserve him.”

Quinn blinked, his features visibly relaxing, his eyes moving between mine. He took a deep breath as though to speak, but we were interrupted.

“Sorry it took me so long.” Dan shouldered through the door leading to the hall, holding two paper cups. “This better be the best fucking cup of coffee you’ve ever had, because—”

He stopped short when our eyes met and my stomach became a hot mess of lovely knots.

“Kat.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

We stared at each other until Quinn cleared his throat and stood, drawing Dan’s attention to him.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

“Make a right, it’s at the end of the hall.” Dan gestured with his chin.

Quinn nodded once and left.

I also stood, crossing to Dan and taking the coffee out of his hands; I placed both cups on a small side table next to the chairs where Quinn and I had been sitting moments prior and grabbed my backpack.

“I brought you a change of clothes.” I held the bag between us. “So you’d be more comfortable.”

“Thanks.” He accepted the bag, examining me for a moment, then placed it on one of the chairs closest to him. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” More lovely knots. A few tangles of uncertainty as well.

“We should talk about what happened at the Clerk’s office, about the thing.”