by Penny Reid
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.”
“You mean when we—uh—after we were married and the ki—”
“No, no. Not that thing.” He lifted an eyebrow, his mischievous little smile making an appearance. “I’m pretty clear on that thing.”
I pressed my lips together, twisting them to the side so I wouldn’t grin.
He did grin. But then it fell away, and a more thoughtful expression took its place. “I have an aunt—Becks, on my dad’s side—she has lots of relationships, with lots of people. It’s all consensual, out in the open. Told me when I was old enough to ask about it that she’s never been good at monogamy.”
“Ah. I see.” His assumption about me being polyamorous now made a lot more sense. “I’ve never been in a relationship, let alone several at the same time.”
Dan scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing just a hint. “You’re in one now.”
“It was supposed to be a fake one.”
Dan bit his lip, staring at me, but said nothing.
So I asked, “All this time, you thought I was polyamorous? In Vegas?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you left? That morning? Is that why you left the room so suddenly?”
“Yes.”
“Because—”
“I wanted monogamy.” He shrugged, not looking repentant. “And the woman I was way into heavily implied she wasn’t into that.”
“You were ‘way into’ me?” My voice was squeaky and my heart beat excitedly. Now I was smiling and I didn’t care, nor could I help it.
“Yep.” He seemed to be amused by the size of my grin, or maybe it was the squeak in my voice.
“You were?” I didn’t know why, but I needed to hear him confirm it again.
“Yes.”
“In Vegas?”
“In Las fucking Vegas. And before that, too.” He grinned, shaking his head.
“So you didn’t leave because I—”
“Because you what?”
“Because you were disappointed?”
“Fuck yeah, I was disappointed. I didn’t want to share. Maybe more importantly, I don’t want someone who’s willing to share me.”
“But you weren’t disappointed in—in—”
“In what?”
I became aware that I was twisting my fingers, so I curled them into fists. “That I’d . . . I had . . . I was—” Darn it! I just needed to spit it out.
Abruptly, Dan’s expression cleared, his eyes suddenly wide, dawning comprehension. “You thought I left because you’d slept with other guys?”
“A lot of other guys.”
He recoiled an inch. “Why would I have an opinion about that? As long as you’re cool with it, why is it my business? That would make me a judgmental assclown.”
My gaze fell to the ground.
“Kat?”
I swallowed, unable to meet his eye.
“Holy shit, Kat. That’s what you thought?”
I nodded, still not able to lift my gaze.
This was exactly the reason why I’d gone into therapy. I’d assumed the worst—about myself and therefore about him—and now two years later, here we were. If I’d just given myself a little credit, if I’d been kinder, if I’d had more self-confidence, maybe today, instead of a fake wedding, it would have been a real one.
Okay, that’s one heck of a jump. Slow down there, Miss Havisham.
“This is unbelievable.” Dan turned from me, throwing his hands in the air, rubbing his face as he turned back. He leaned against the door, shaking his head, his gaze distracted.
I huffed a laugh.
“That’s a lot of time wasted because of a stupid misunderstanding. If you’d just asked me—”
“Me? I’m not the one who thought you were polyamorous. Why didn’t you ask me about that?”
He glared, continuing to shake his head. “Two fucking years. No wonder you avoided me. I would have avoided me, too. This is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
I agreed with him on this point. It was dumb. Jumping to conclusions, misunderstandings, pride and avoidance—it all felt incredibly trite in retrospect. Trite and idiotic.
And yet, a part of me was glad for it. As I’d confessed to Quinn, I’d needed the time. Not only had I made assumptions about Dan, I’d made assumptions about myself.
Dan’s features showcased a mixture of intense confusion and frustration, and a small little voice in my head wondered if it was too late. If our chance had passed.
I glared at that voice and shut a door in its face. What a stupid voice. You can’t sit here, voice. NEVER COME BACK!
While I was berating my doubt, the cloud of confusion hovering over Dan’s features abruptly cleared and his stare cut to mine. It startled me because—lo and behold—the sexy eyes were back.
Boy oh boy, were they back.
Dan was legit bringing sexy back.
Whoa.
In the next moment, his mouth hooked upward and he pushed away from the wall, sauntering toward me. Instinctively, I took two steps back.
“Kit-Kat.” He wagged a finger at me, like I’d been naughty. “You liked me.”
“You liked me, you just said so,” I volleyed back, the words sounding like an accusation.
“I did.” His grin grew and his voice deepened. “And I do.”
Oh.
Okay.
Here we go.
He was using his naughty-secret voice.
Am I ready for this?
“We can’t do this right now.”
What? What is wrong with you? Do it now! Do it right now!
“Why not?”
“Because—”
“I know you’re not seeing anyone else.”
“Because—because I smelled your underwear and touched your cologne!”
Dan stopped, his eyes widening with what looked like alarm. “You what?”
“Ah!” Heat surged to my face, hot and mortifying. “No. Sorry. No, I mixed that up. Not what I did. I mean, I touched your underwear and smelled your cologne.”
“O-o-o-o-kay. That’s . . . interesting. And strangely arousing.”
“I want to deserve you.” Like before, this was blurted. But I stopped myself before I could also confess, I want to be stable, rational, healthy, and sensible for you.
“Deserve me?” He grinned at that, my words apparently confusing him because his grin seemed shaded with both amusement and concern.
&n
bsp; “I owe you so much and—”
Dan made a face, flinching, all traces of sexy-humor dissolved in a single instant. “Uh, no. You don’t owe me.”
“I do. I really do. I’m so, so grateful.”
“You do this every time we’re together. Like I told you before, you gotta stop thanking me.” He pulled his hands through his hair, turning away. “Shit.”
I didn’t know how, but I seemed to be making things worse. Rushing forward, I placed a hand on his arm and stepped in front of him, anxious to get this right. “Sorry. I’m doing this wrong. Let me start over. You are so kind, and generous, and I—”
“Stop making me out to be some Mother Theresa. You think I married you out of the kindness of my heart? Think again.”
I couldn’t help my smile. “Dan.”
“Kat.”
“Come on.”
His hands were back on his hips. “Where’re we going?”
I chuckled, my smile beaming. “Why do you want me to believe you’re not a good guy?”
“I didn’t say I’m not a good guy. I didn’t say I am a good guy. I said I didn’t marry you out of kindness.”
Squinting at him, I gave him a rueful grin. “I don’t believe that.”
“You should.”
“Okay, well,”—I rolled my eyes to the ceiling—“fine. Whatever your reason, I’m allowed to be grateful for your help.”
“I don’t want your gratitude.” He stepped back, shaking his head adamantly as he folded his arms. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked frustrated. Or angry. Or both.
I didn’t understand him. “I’m not allowed to be grateful?”
“No.” He lifted his chin. “Being grateful is like giving me a participation ribbon when I’m after the goddamn gold medal.”
I winced at his voice’s volume and sharpness, but before I was able to ascertain Dan’s meaning, Quinn opened the door.
The big man stopped short, glancing between us for several seconds with his trademark lack of expression. Eventually, he strolled into the room and to the coffee. Selecting a cup, he claimed the seat he’d been sitting in earlier and pulled out his phone.
“Don’t mind me.”
“I—” I started, paused, looked to Quinn and then back to Dan. Dan hadn’t even looked at his friend. His eyes remained on me the whole time, his usually luscious lips an angry slash on his handsome face, his jaw rigid.
I worried for his dental work.
But at the same time, I wanted to shout at him. His unwillingness to accept my appreciation was infuriating.
Worried I would yell, I turned for the door, murmuring as I went, “I’ll go get more coffee,” and hurried out of the room.
I needed a minute to think about what he’d said and review our conversation. I needed to examine each of our words, but especially his last comment about gratitude.
What am I doing wrong? How am I messing this up so badly?
I’d made it three steps to the door when I felt a hand close over my arm, bringing me to a stop, and effectively turning me around.
I was given just a single second to recognize that the hand belonged to Dan before he tugged me forward, slid his arms around my waist, and captured my mouth.
I twined my arms around his neck, lifting to my toes and pressing my body to his as I sought his tongue with mine. He obliged, and though his kiss was hot and sweet and savoring, his fingers dug into my back and he held me tighter than necessary.
Melted and reformed, my new shape soft and pliable, heat seeking and greedy for him, I poured myself into the kiss, hoping it would succeed where my words had not.
Sliding his hands along my sides to my arms, he broke away. I opened my eyes, eager for his. But Dan released me and took a step back. His gaze was on the floor between us and he reached into his pocket, his large hands concealed the object he withdrew.
Dan reached for me, opened my fingers, placed the object there, and let me go.
I stared, not quite able to breathe, because a ring so beautiful that it defied comprehension lay in the center of my palm.
An exquisite colorless diamond cut into a shape that wasn’t quite a square and wasn’t quite a circle surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds in a filigree art deco platinum setting—maybe white gold?—sparkled back at me.
“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said, his voice rough but firm.
I lifted my gaze and blinked at him, at his chin’s determined tilt and the figurative barricade he’d erected between us with his stubbornness.
The last thing he wanted to hear was another thank you.
Okay. Fine. I understood, loud and clear.
Which meant I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing.
Chapter Thirteen
A Private Company: (Or privately held company) A business company owned either by non-governmental organizations or by a relatively small number of shareholders or company members which does not offer or trade its company stock (shares) to the general public on the stock market exchanges.
—Investopedia
**Kat**
The next several hours passed in a hectic blur.
Dan was absent when I returned with more coffee, two large thermoses full. I’d purchased them at the gift shop and filled the containers from the cafeteria machines. Quinn explained that Dan was off someplace taking calls, sending emails, and working with Quinn’s executive assistant to rearrange meetings and schedules for the following week.
We received a text from Fiona’s husband, Greg, not to tell us they were on their way, but rather to inform us they were already at the hospital. Fiona had gone into labor.
Sandra arrived just after 7:30 PM, bringing dinner from the cafeteria and possessing the forethought to order enough extra food in case more people showed up.
Quinn paced the room like a caged animal and deflected any and all attempts at conversation. Eventually, I gave up and stewed in my own anxious contemplations, glaring at the gorgeous rock on my finger, and endeavoring to untangle the lump of nerves in my stomach. However, Sandra had managed to pull a laugh out of Quinn with a few of her dirtiest jokes. Nico also would have made him laugh, but the comedian was stuck in New York filming his show.
Elizabeth poked her head out at intervals to give us the thumbs up, tease Quinn, and ask if we’d heard from Marie. No one could reach Marie, not even Alex with his super sneaky computery skills. Alex didn’t come to the hospital. He stayed behind at Cypher Systems to cover things there.
Ashley and Drew were on high alert in Tennessee, debating whether or not to drive up now or wait a week and visit once everyone was home.
Close to 9:00 PM, I left Quinn with Sandra to see if I could check on Fiona. I didn’t want to text Greg while he was obviously concentrating on more important things; instead, I found the nurses’ station and asked about her progress. Unsurprisingly, since I wasn’t an immediate family member, I was unable to discover any information.
I was just typing a text to the group, asking if I could bring anything back, when I heard Dan’s voice from behind me call, “Kat, wait up.”
Automatically, I glanced over my shoulder, my heart giving a leap. The first thing I noticed, gone was his sexy suit from the wedding. Which of course made me wonder if he was wearing the red boxer briefs I’d brought him. Which of course sent a delightful spike of alertness through me because I was picturing him in nothing but the red briefs. Which of course made my cheeks and neck red hot.
Right on cue, I felt a little ashamed of my objectifying thoughts.
“Hi.” I waved, sticking the phone in my back pocket. Forgetting about the half-written text, I turned to meet him while trying to swallow past the tension in my throat.
The way we’d left things earlier weighed heavy between us. He didn’t want my thanks, and I didn’t know how to get my point across without voicing my gratitude.
“Hey.” He drew closer, and though his momentum led me to believe he planned to greet me with a kiss, he stopped abrup
tly a few feet away. “Where you going?”
“Back to the waiting room.” I indicated with my thumb over my shoulder, my stomach now mildly unsettled for no reason. “Sandra brought food. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah . . .” He scratched his neck, contemplating me. Giving me the impression he’d just decided something, Dan took two steps forward. But then the buzzing of our cell phones interrupted us.
Anxiously, I leaned close to Dan to read the message on his screen.
Sandra: Where are you? I’m running out of jokes.
He sighed, tapping out a response.
Dan: I just found Kat. We’ll be right there.
Dan gave me a regretful smile and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
I slipped mine in his, my heart skipping, and stepped much closer to him than strictly necessary. His gaze moved over my face for a few short seconds, and then he sighed again, turning back toward the waiting room.
When we arrived, Dan and I sat next to each other, still holding hands. And that was very, very nice.
He distracted Quinn with talk of work while Sandra and I looked up jokes on her phone, adding the best ones to her notes app for later.
After another hour or so, I received a text from Greg.
Greg: Don’t tell Quinn, as I’m sure the poor bloke doesn’t need or want to think about anything else right now, but baby Archer entered the world a few minutes ago. She’s atrociously loud and has already asserted her dominance by pissing all over the doctor. We’re so proud.
I tried not to laugh, but I did show the text to Dan, who rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh.
The next few hours consisted of endless waiting. At one point, Dan left to use the bathroom. I made an excuse so I could intercept him in the hall again, hopefully to steal a few minutes to clear the air between us. But Sandra texted us again, foiling my efforts.
