Dating-ish (Knitting in the City Book 6)

by Penny Reid

  9:17 p.m. Alex: I can’t trace your cell phone if you turn it off. You better not be dead.

  10:51 p.m. Greg: Baby Archer #3 has arrived. Already screaming at the help and complaining about shoddy service. 7lbs 14oz of perfection.

  11:07 p.m. Nico: Elizabeth could really use your help with Quinn . . . please.

  11:11 p.m. Ashley (to Dan, Kat, and Marie): Drew is thinking about arranging a search party for y’all.

  11:14 p.m. Dan (to Ashley, Kat, and Marie): On our way.

  11:16 p.m. Dan (to Ashley, Kat, and Marie): Marie isn’t with us. I don’t know where she is.

  11:18 p.m. Dan (to Ashley, Kat, and Marie): Alex says her phone is off.

  11:21 p.m. Ashley (to Dan, Kat, and Marie): I’m giving Marie until 8 a.m., then I’m sending Drew after her.

  11:31 p.m. Dan (to Ashley, Kat, and Marie): Agree. I’ll help.

  4:13 a.m. Elizabeth (to Sandra, Ashley, Marie, Kat): Janie’s at 6cm. It’s been a long night. Marie is MIA. When you wake up, if someone could come hold Quinn’s hand, that’d be great.

  4:16 a.m. Kat (to Elizabeth, Sandra, Ashley, Marie): I’m on my way

  4:18 a.m. Elizabeth (to Sandra, Ashley, Marie, Kat): Thanks, Kat. And, Marie, when you read this—WE LOVE YOU!!!

  I had missed calls from everyone. Quinn, Elizabeth, Nico, Sandra, Alex, Alex, Alex, Ashley, Kat, Dan, Dan, Dan, and Greg. I’d finally finished catching up with the saga from the night before, and was just about to respond to the plethora of texts, when my phone rang. Alex’s name flashed on my screen.

  I fumbled to answer, bringing it to my ear in a rush. “Hello?”

  “You had your phone off.”

  “Yes. I did. Is everything okay? How’s Janie? And Fiona?”

  “Janie is still in labor. Fiona had her baby last night. I haven’t seen her yet. We have Grace and Jack with us. Are you okay?”

  I sat on the bed, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. “Yes. Sorry. I—”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Everyone was worried, so I checked the airlines. You’re in New York, right?”

  “Yes. That’s right. I had a trip for work. I feel so badly about not being there. Is Quinn okay?” I began pacing, calculating the time it would take for me to make it back to Chicago.

  “He’s . . . Quinn.” I thought I detected a hint of affection in Alex’s tone, but I couldn’t be sure. “I told him where you were. He’s sending his plane. Can you get to New Jersey in an hour? I already sent your information to Teterboro.”

  “Teterboro?”

  “Executive airport. Easier to fly in and out of than JFK or LaGuardia.”

  “Uh, yes. I think so. Let me map it.” I glanced at the clock by the bed. My commercial flight didn’t leave for another three and a half hours. Matt and I had to—

  Matt!

  “Wait. I have someone with me. Matt Simmons.”

  There was a pause on the other end, then Alex cleared his throat. “Okay. He can text me his passport number or driver’s license number—one or the other—or I can just look it up. We’ll add him. They’ll be expecting you both.”

  “Okay. But you know, I could have taken my scheduled flight. It’s not a huge time difference.”

  “It’s a three-hour difference in arrival time, Marie,” he said, like three hours might destroy or save the world. “See you soon.”

  “See you.”

  I hung up, needing a moment to catch my breath, then messaged Greg:

  5:05 a.m. Marie: Congratulations! So happy for you both. I can’t wait to see the baby <3 <3

  5:07 a.m. Greg: Thank you, gorgeous. Here’s a snap of Fiona with the babe taken last night. As you can see, the child is perfection, just like her mother.

  5:10 a.m. Marie: Why are you up? Shouldn’t you sleep while you can? Is Fiona up?

  5:11 a.m. Greg: Fi is asleep and so is the baby. But I can’t sleep when I’m this happy. It would be a waste of the moments that make life worth living.

  His last text made me smile.

  And then I sniffed, because it also made me want to cry.

  But then I blinked away the tears, straightening my back. A sense of rightness and resolve firming my bones. My person was out there, and I just needed to start looking for him again.

  The time had come to surrender my crutch. Because I wanted someone to feel about life with me the way Greg felt about life with Fiona. I didn’t want to waste the moments—my moments—that made life worth living.

  I texted Matt and gave him an overview of the events from the prior evening as well as a summary of the modification in our travel plans, informing him that I was on my way down to the concierge to call a taxi. He met me in the lobby just as the taxi pulled up, giving us no time to engage in an awkward greeting.

  He didn’t kiss me on the cheek, as I gave him no opportunity to do so.

  Also helpful, the distraction of my friends’ circumstances. The situation provided adequate fodder for discussion all the way to the executive airport and minimal eye contact. I filled him in on what had occurred while I surveyed the city beyond the taxi window.

  Everything went smoothly. We arrived, checked in, were escorted to Quinn’s plane, buckled in, and we were off. No waiting in lines, no time for idle chit-chat. I opened my laptop, figuring I’d use the flight to type up notes from the day before.

  “You’re working?” Matt hovered at the end of the aisle, glancing from me to my open laptop.

  Without looking up, I nodded. “I should get these notes transcribed while they’re still fresh.”

  I sensed Matt hesitate while I pulled on my headphones and scrolled through my phone for an appropriate playlist. For some reason, I felt like listening to angry girl music.

  So I did.

  I wrote while Matt sat in the seat across from mine—even though there were twenty-two other seats to choose from—and likewise worked on his laptop. Every so often I sensed his attention on me. I ignored it. I would be strong.

  I didn’t close my laptop or remove my headphones until after we’d landed, taxied to our hangar, and the flight attendant appeared to tell us we were welcome to depart when ready. With minimal conversation, we got into the car Quinn had sent to pick us up in and it took us straight to the hospital.

  Matt’s first priority was checking in on Fiona and family. Meanwhile, I hadn’t received any new texts about Janie’s condition and worried aloud regarding what I might find.

  I texted Dan as soon as we arrived to the hospital lot. He was waiting for me just inside the entrance. Other than tossing Matt a who-the-hell-are-you glare, he seemed to be singularly focused on getting me checked in.

  “What’s going on? Is Janie okay? Elizabeth hasn’t texted.”

  Both Matt and I handed our photo IDs to the receptionist so they could make us visitor badges for the day.

  “She’s still in labor. It’s been since seven last night, and Quinn hasn’t slept. Janie won’t let him in the room, says he’s making her nuts. Katherine is in there now. She and Mr. Sullivan arrived after 1:00 AM, then the plane turned around and picked you up once Alex figured out where you were.”

  I smirked a little because Dan called Quinn’s mother by her first name, but could never bring himself to call Quinn’s father by anything other than Mr. Sullivan.

  I knew Quinn’s mother, Katherine, rather well as she and I had organized Janie and Quinn’s wedding together a few years ago. Neither Janie nor Quinn had expressed any interest in planning the event and I loved that kind of stuff—and I loved to help—so I didn’t mind.

  Janie had chosen Katherine as her birth coach early on in the pregnancy when it became clear that Quinn’s tendencies to want to control everything—especially where Janie’s safety was concerned—wasn’t going to work during a vaginal birth.

  “Elizabeth says they won’t let Janie go past seven tonight, because of something having to do with her water breaking yesterday and after twenty-four hours there’s an increase in infection problems, or somethin
g like that. I don’t know.” Dan tugged his fingers through his hair, looking truly stressed.

  Matt and I accepted our visitor badges, placing the stickers on our shirts. I then placed a comforting hand on Dan’s shoulder.

  The three of us walked to the elevators while I smoothed gentle circles on Dan’s back. “Hey. Everything is going to be fine. Elizabeth won’t let anything happen to either of them.”

  Dan sighed, jabbing at the call button for the elevator and then rubbing at the swirly neck tattoos peeking out of his T-shirt collar. “I’m just glad you’re here. Kat’s exhausted. She’s been sitting with Quinn since early this morning. I want her to go rest, but she won’t listen to me. Mr. Sullivan is also there, but he’s mostly quiet other than telling Quinn to calm the fuck down and reminding him that women do this every goddamn day. In fact, it almost looks like he’s enjoying Quinn’s anxiousness, which I think is pissing Quinn off. And I can’t tell Quinn he’s overreacting because, what the hell do I know?”

  We boarded the elevator and Dan pressed the button for the fourth floor.

  “His pacing is driving me nuts. I asked Elizabeth if we can sedate him, and she said no.” Dan snorted, rolling his eyes. “But the good thing is they have Janie in this special room, bigger than the others, with its own waiting room outside. So he can pace all he likes without tripping over doctors and nurses trying to do their job. It’s the VIP suite, where I’m guessing the acronym stands for Very Irritating Patients’ Husbands.”

  “That would be VIPH,” Matt chimed in good-naturedly, saying something for the first time since we arrived.

  Dan’s eyes cut to Matt’s. “You think I don’t fucking know that? Who the fuck are you?”

  I had to struggle to keep from laughing at Dan’s surge of aggression; clearly, he’d reached the end of his patience.

  “This is Matt Simmons, Fiona and Greg’s next-door neighbor. He’s here to see them.”

  “Oh.” Dan continued to inspect Matt with suspicion. “Well, Fiona crossed the finish line last night. Three-hour labor, bing bang boom. I saw her and Greg this morning; it’s like night and day with those two and what Janie and Quinn are dealing with. Greg was whistling. Whistling! And giving their little gnome a bath. Cutest fucking baby I’ve ever seen. Meanwhile, Fiona is sitting up in bed, knitting. Knitting! She looks like she’s been on vacation, all well-rested, smiling and shit.” He shook his head again, like he couldn’t believe two pregnancies and deliveries could be so entirely different.

  The doors opened and we departed, Dan turning and pointing down the hall. “So that’s where Greg and Fiona are. They’ll scan your badge again and double-check whether you’re allowed in, if they want to see you before they open the security door.”

  “Thank you.” Matt nodded at Dan, then to me he asked, “Where will you be? I’ll call you after I’m done.”

  Dan’s glare of distrust returned and he answered before I could. “She’ll be here all day, taking care of her people. If you want to help, bring the woman some food, her knitting, or give her a back massage. Come on.”

  Dan took me by the arm and began leading me away, but Matt stopped our momentum by grabbing my wrist.

  Tugging me forward, he slipped his hand around my waist and captured my mouth with a kiss.

  It happened so fast, I didn’t have a moment to respond or react or enjoy the feel of his warm, soft lips moving over mine. Or the abrupt spike of aching pleasure that flooded my chest, spurring my heart into a reckless rhythm, and cinching my throat with emotion.

  What . . . what . . . WHAT?

  I’d just placed my hand on his torso to steady myself when he ended the kiss by brushing his lips over mine once more, and then stepped away. Our gazes locked and I blinked at the intensity I found there, especially since the remainder of his features appeared studiously devoid of emotion.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, making his words sound like an order.

  I nodded, certain my face betrayed how confused I was, and allowed myself to be pulled in the opposite direction by Dan.

  My friend glanced over his shoulder and back at Matt twice as we walked. Or rather, Dan walked, I stumbled, still caught in the moment Matt’s lips had captured mine.

  What was that?

  I lifted my fingertips to my mouth, wondering if I’d just imagined the last two minutes. I had no idea how to feel about it. I couldn’t even believe it had happened.

  What the hell was that?

  Once we were out of earshot, I sensed Dan’s gaze flicker over my profile.

  “Is that guy your boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  No. He’s not.

  He’s not.

  He’s not.

  “You like that guy, though.”

  Inspecting my friend, his pointed gaze targeting mine, I released a perplexed breath. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not interested in me that way.”

  Dan snort-laughed. “Oh, he’s interested in you that way. That kiss and the look he was sending me when I took your arm, I know that look.”

  I struggled how best to summarize the situation with Matt, just like I was struggling to wrap my mind around the kiss. “We’re friends. I think. I think we’re friends. I don’t know. I think he’d like to be friends with benefits. But that kind of arrangement doesn’t interest me.”

  Dan grunted noncommittally at that, apparently in deep thought, and we walked quietly for a while. He helped me navigate the security checkpoint that would lead us into the VIP labor and delivery suite, but pulled me to a stop just outside the door to the waiting room.

  “I’m gonna give you some unsolicited advice, okay?” Dan peered at me, as though making sure I knew to take his words seriously. “But it’s good advice, even though I’m tired as hell, so it might not make much sense.”

  “Sure. Go for it.” Even in my muddled state, I couldn’t help but smile at my friend.

  “You like that guy, you tell him flat out. You just lay what you want and everything out there. Don’t waste time not saying things that need to be said. He’ll always be in your mind, wrecking the possibility of things with other people, because your heart can’t move on until it knows for sure a door is closed.”

  I managed a reassuring smile. “Thanks for the ad—”

  “But then, if the door opens, make sure it’s the right door, not a different door. Because then you’ll be in the room, but it’s not the right room. And then you’re stuck in the room, you’ve committed to the room, and you’d be an asshole for trying a new door in the same house when you’re already in a room. And then your fucking heart won’t stop looking for a window.” He lifted his hand between us face up, shaking his head, clearly irritated about something, then let his palm fall to his leg with a smack.

  I stared at him, waiting patiently until he’d finished his tirade.

  Dan was right, he was tired. His words were slightly slurred with lack of sleep, but I thought I understood his meaning well enough.

  His peering persisted, like he wanted to make sure I understood his point, then he added, “I’m serious. Hearts are bastards that way, always looking for a goddamn window.”

  21

  Synthetic Environment for Analysis and Simulations (SEAS)

  A model of the real world used by Homeland Security and the United States Department of Defense that uses simulation and AI to predict and evaluate future events and courses of action.

  Source: United States Department of Defense

  Dan’s summary was entirely correct.

  Kat was exhausted.

  Desmond—Quinn’s dad—was amused by his son’s out-of-control worry.

  And Quinn was out of control with worry.

  As soon as Quinn saw me, he crossed to me in three steps and engulfed my body in a squeezing hug, catching me completely by surprise. We’d never hugged before. In fact, I’d never seen him hug or touch anyone but Janie.

  Peripherally, I heard Dan say to Kat, “Okay. Marie is here. I found a bed for
you, come with me.”

  Two sets of footsteps sounded behind me and a small hand covered my shoulder. I turned as Quinn relaxed his arms and found Kat, giving me a grateful smile. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “She’ll be back in a few hours,” Dan corrected, tugging on her hand and pulling her out of the room.

  I chuckled at his bossiness. Something had changed, but I was given no opportunity to figure out what the deal was because Desmond had stood and was waiting for a hug.

  “Good to see you.” Desmond gave me his version of a smile, which was similar to Quinn’s version of a smile, his hawkish blue eyes scrutinizing me as we separated.

  “You too.” My gaze cut to Quinn, and I grinned. “Ready to be a father?”

  He was not smiling. “She’s been in labor for almost twenty-four hours.”

  “I know.” I smoothed a hand up and then down his arm, smiling at the uncharacteristic wrinkles of worry on his forehead. “From what I understand, it’s not unusual for labor to take longer with the first baby.”

  “First?” he scoffed, shaking his head vehemently. “No. Last. We’re not doing this again.”

  Desmond’s lips twitched and he sent me a tired yet thoroughly amused look.

  Quinn gritted his teeth, his hands on his hips, clearly needing someone to rant to. “There’s no way in—”

  Quinn’s tirade was interrupted by the far door opening suddenly and Elizabeth poking her head out. “Okay, Daddy. It’s time. You have three minutes to suit up if you want to catch a baby.” She moved to close the door, paused, and grinned at me. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Yay,” she exclaimed with feeling, then shut the door.

  Quinn’s eyes swung to me, large and panicked. “What do I do?”

  I couldn’t help it, I laughed. So did Desmond.

  But I also gave him another quick hug, pulling back and holding his face in my palms like my father held mine when I was a girl. “You’re going to go in there and meet your child. And then you’re going to kiss your wife and tell her how amazing she is. And then you’re going to thank the doctors and nurses for doing such an excellent job. And then you’re not going to worry, because you’re just going to enjoy your family. Got it?”