Dating-ish (Knitting in the City Book 6)

by Penny Reid

  It was Tuesday evening and we’d all convened for our usual knit night gathering. But instead of knitting, we were cleaning Fiona and Greg’s apartment, making them dinner, and doing their laundry. Quinn and Janie were the only ones absent, but we’d made plans to clean their penthouse tomorrow.

  Drew and Ashley had driven up from Tennessee. They were only staying for three days, but it was wonderful to have them even for a short period of time.

  “The second bathroom is finished.” Kat walked in, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “I think we only have vacuuming left, but I want to wait until Fiona wakes up.”

  “Is Dan still re-organizing Grace’s toys?” Sandra tossed over her shoulder. “Who knew he’d be so into color-coding Barbie doll shoes and arranging dream house furniture.”

  Greg made a discontented face, but said nothing. I knew he didn’t like the fact that Grace owned Barbie dolls; he felt they perpetuated unrealistic and unhealthy ideas about female beauty.

  “He was helping me in the bathroom.” Kat reached for the solo cup with her name on it and filled it with the filtered water from the door of the fridge. “But, yes. Now I think he’s with Grace in her room, helping organize the toy bins. Elizabeth and Nico are in there, too.”

  Sandra and I shared a look, but said nothing. She’d also noticed the ring on Kat’s finger. We’d all noticed at this point, but neither Dan nor Kat were ready to fully discuss the situation.

  “Where is Drew?” Alex finished tying the two trash bags, addressing this question to Greg. “Is he back from the hardware store yet?”

  “Yes, now he and Ashley are in Jack’s room folding the laundry.” Kat refilled her cup.

  “Has anyone seen our neighbor?” Greg asked the room. “Or have you seen my phone?”

  “Who? The weirdo that tricked Marie into a date?” Sandra wrinkled her nose.

  I paused my work, my neck heating and my heart doing the twist and shout. I hadn’t yet told anyone about Matt and me. Everything was very new. And everyone was very busy. And it hadn’t come up.

  “Professor Simmons is a weirdo?” Jack glanced between his dad and Sandra.

  “Everyone in this room—you included—is a weirdo.” Greg shifted his infant daughter from one shoulder to the other. “He said something about stopping by today when I saw him yesterday morning, but I was too delirious to remember you were all coming over.”

  “Well then. I’ll just go over there and un-invite him.” Sandra placed a washed drawer on a towel next to the sink.

  Bracing myself, I faced the kitchen. “Don’t do that—”

  “Be nice.” Alex sent his wife a look as he hefted the two trash bags over his shoulder. “He’s cool.”

  Kat made a scoffing sound, crossing her arms. “I’m with Sandra. I still don’t like how he treated Marie.”

  I shut the fridge. “He didn’t—”

  “What did he do?” Jack’s eyes were now rounded with the interest of a nine-year-old finally allowed to take part in adult discussions.

  “It’s a long story.” Greg’s voice was grumbly and tired as he scratched his chin. “Why don’t you pick a backpack? How about this Madame Curie one?”

  I moved to the middle of the kitchen and summoned my courage. Why do I feel so nervous about this?

  “I want Minecraft.” Jack turned his attention back to the laptop.

  “Ada Lovelace, you say?” Greg closed the computer. “Minecraft wouldn’t even be possible without the mother of computer science. Take this into the other room and pick out a backpack that will make you proud twenty years from now. Go.”

  Jack dutifully grabbed the computer and left the kitchen.

  Twisting the rag I’d been using to clean the fridge, I gathered a deep breath and said, “Matt—Professor Simmons—and I are together.”

  Sandra and Kat stiffened, their eyes swinging to me, stunned shock written all over their features.

  “What?” Sandra breathed, turning off the water.

  “Oh?” Alex shared a look with Greg; if I wasn’t mistaken, they were both hiding smiles. “What a surprise.”

  Sandra’s gaze cut to her husband. “You knew?”

  He shrugged, glancing at Greg again.

  “You knew?” This came from Kat and was directed to Greg.

  “Who knew what?” Dan strolled into the kitchen and walked straight to Kat, stealing her solo cup and taking a long drink.

  “Marie and Matt—Fiona and Greg’s next-door neighbor, the guy at the hospital last week—are dating. They’re together.” Sandra sounded incredulous and wiped her hands on a towel with exaggerated movements.

  “Oh. Yeah. I knew that.” Dan nodded. “Nico told me.”

  “What?” Kat, Sandra, and I asked in unison.

  “How did Nico find out?” Sandra swung her eyes to me. “Did you tell Elizabeth?”

  I shook my head, but before I could answer, Dan said, “I think Drew told Nico.”

  “Oh my God.” I shook my head, so confused. “How did Drew find out?”

  “From Quinn,” Alex said as he strolled out of the kitchen. “Quinn told me, too.”

  “Well then, who told Quinn?” Kat rubbed her forehead.

  “I did.” Greg patted his daughter lightly on the bottom, soothing her.

  “Then who told you?” Sandra placed her hands on her hips.

  Greg kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Matt.”

  “Matt told you?” I stood straighter, feeling surprised and . . . touched. “When did he tell you?” I kinda liked that he’d told Greg. It made me feel warm and fuzzy.

  “Yes. Matt told me, yesterday morning after I remarked on his gleeful walk of shame.”

  “Walk of shame?” Sandra’s eyes darted to me, amusement and question written all over her features.

  “Yeah, he was wearing the same suit he’d been in Friday night.”

  “Go, Marie!” Dan stepped forward and offered me a high five, which I returned numbly, amazed at how quickly these men shared information with each other.

  And, by the way, why would any of them be interested in who I was dating? It didn’t make sense.

  Greg picked a piece of lint off his jeans, looking smug. “But I knew before he told me.”

  Kat glanced at me, then back to Greg. “How?”

  Greg smirked at Kat, then at Sandra. “It was written all over his face last week, for anyone who was looking. Fiona called it, too.” Then to me he said, “We’ve been gossiping about you two all week.”

  “You and Fiona?” I smiled, relieved that Fiona knew. I hadn’t been looking forward to telling her, not after she’d warned me away from him weeks ago.

  “She’s thrilled.” Greg returned my smile with a soft one of his own, seemingly reading my mind. “She had her reservations, but seeing you two together at the hospital was all the assurance needed. We couldn’t be happier for you both.”

  Standing in front of the kitchen sink, Sandra was shaking her head, her eyes unfocused. “Okay. I’m so confused. About so many things. First of all,” she pointed at me, “I need the whole story. When did this happen? I didn’t even know you liked him. And secondly,” she turned to Greg, “what is the deal with you guys and the efficiency of your man-gossip phone tree?”

  Greg gave her a droll look. “Don’t be a hater, Sandra. You ladies need to learn how to communicate more effectively.”

  Kat laughed, shaking her head. “This is nuts.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you told Quinn to begin with.” I turned back to the fridge, allowing my face to show how perplexed I was about Matt and me being a topic of conversation.

  “Are you kidding?” Greg stood and began swaying back and forth, shaking his head at me. “Marie. You saved my life last spring. You saved both Fiona and me. You organized Quinn and Janie’s entire wedding. If memory serves, you also threw a tequila bottle at those Boston guys who showed up to grab Janie a few years ago, spurring everyone into action and effectively saving every woman in this r
oom. Of course Quinn wants to know. And Alex, and Drew, and Nico, and—”

  “And me.” Dan moved to refill Kat’s solo cup, adding simply, “You’re a hero, Marie. We want to make sure this guy is good enough.”

  Inexplicably, emotion clogged my throat, robbing me of my ability to do anything but swallow for a few moments before I managed, “You’d do the same for me. You all would.”

  “Exactly.” Greg nodded once, sending me a soft smile that looked foreign on his typically sardonic features. “Which is why I told Quinn as soon as I found out. We’re looking out for you, kid. And don’t you forget it.” But then added, “And now you and Fiona have more in common.”

  I sniffled, prompting Kat to cross to me and place her arm around my shoulders. “How so?”

  “Now you’ve both seen Matt’s penis.”

  27

  Retrieval Robot

  A robot that is swallowed and used to collect dangerous objects ingested accidentally. The device is based on foldable robot technology, where the robots fold up, a bit like origami, into small structures less than a few millimeters in diameter so that they can be swallowed like tablets. Then, once inside the body, the capsules enclosing the robots dissolve, allowing the devices to unfold, and reconfigure themselves to retrieve the object.

  Source: Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT)

  An opportunity for Matt and me to prove our trust in—and good intentions for—each other arrived earlier than I’d anticipated.

  Once again, we were at my apartment. He said he liked it because it felt like a home. Whereas, other than a few of Grace and Jack’s drawings hanging on his walls, his place felt like a pit stop.

  Presently, he was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands in his hair as his mouth moved wordlessly, as though reading to himself from the computer screen. I was sitting on the floor by the couch, using the cushions as a surface for my storyboarding notes and biting on the end of my pen.

  The cuddling story was done and sent, as was the dry-humping piece. The OM appointment was set for two days from now.

  “You know, they have programs for that.”

  I glanced up from my papers. “For what?”

  “Storyboarding.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I know. But I like this better. I can see my notes, what I’ve written, and it reminds me of what I was thinking at the time.” I frowned at the paper in my hand. It was from a phone call a few weeks ago—just before my trip to New York—with my writing partner.

  Tommy had attended an OM session in San Francisco and had already sent me his notes. However, we’d decided to split up the last two paid services. He took the life coach and I was supposed to hire an escort.

  But, again, that was weeks ago, before everything had changed.

  “You look troubled.”

  I didn’t look up this time. “I’m . . . debating.”

  “Anything I can help with?” I heard his laptop close and the scrape of the kitchen chair on the floor as he stood.

  Taking a deep breath, I let the phone call notes fall to the floor and leveled Matt with a bracing stare. “I’m supposed to hire an escort to take me to David’s engagement party.”

  He stopped, mid-movement, his eyes widening to maximum diameter as he stared at me. “Come again?”

  “For my story about paid services. I’m supposed to hire a male escort.” Rubbing my eyes, I sat back on the carpet and sighed.

  “Well . . . okay. That’s interesting.”

  That made me laugh and I lifted my eyes to his, finding him smiling at me. “So, what am I going to do? I agreed to do this before things changed between us.”

  “Do you want to do this?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, I don’t know. I want to finish what I started. I want to finish writing these pieces. This whole series was my idea and it’s getting a lot of great feedback. I’m really proud of it.”

  He nodded all through this. “Okay. Then, you should do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “As long as you feel comfortable, then—if you’re asking about my feelings—I’m fine with it.”

  I gaped at him. “I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, honestly, if the roles were reversed, I would not be okay with it. I would absolutely not want you to hire a female escort for work, or research, or anything else.”

  Matt smirked at me. “Jealous?”

  “Hell. Yes. I don’t want anyone touching you but me. And if that makes me possessive, then so be it.”

  His smile widened. “You know you can trust me.”

  “I know. But it would still piss me off.” Recognizing this about myself, and being able to communicate as much to Matt without having to worry about upsetting him was . . . amazing. Truly revolutionary for me. I’d never had that with anyone. And I appreciated him so much for it. The trust between us was a gift.

  And so, I decided I wouldn’t hire an escort. If I couldn’t handle seeing him with a female escort—even for work—I felt it was unfair to ask that of him.

  He was laughing at me, at my freely admitted covetousness, crossing to where I sat, and lowered himself to the floor. “I have no plans to hire an escort.”

  “And no female companion robots, either.” I lifted my index finger and pointed at him. “None of that.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re going in a different direction. At least, I am. I’m focusing on a Compassion AI for foster kids. One that will be assigned to them as soon as they enter the system and stays with them through to adulthood.”

  I straightened, blinking at him, my heart emitting a burst of heat that traveled down my arms and up my neck. “Oh.”

  He met my gaze evenly, a small smile on his mouth. “I think that’s where I can do the most good.” He’d drawn his legs up, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “I’m sure you will.” Cupping his jaw, I kissed him on the mouth, then on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you. You are amazing.”

  “Oh? Tell me more.” He caught my hand before I pulled it away, holding it against his face. “Leave nothing out.”

  “Well, not many men would be cool with their girlfriends hiring an escort for research. But, it doesn’t matter, because I won’t be—”

  “I think it’ll be interesting. Besides, I have questions, too.”

  I stiffened. “Um, what?”

  “Yeah. Once Quinn and Alex thoroughly vet him, the three of us can go. We’ll just update our RSVP numbers with your ex.”

  A burst of laughter escaped my throat. “You want the three of us to go? To David’s engagement party?”

  “Yep.” He nodded once, his tone still even but a glint of devilry lit behind his eyes.

  “Matt.”

  “Oh wait.” His mouth fell open in a cartoonish movement. “You thought I’d be okay with you hiring a male escort and going out on your own?”

  I pushed his shoulder, wrinkling my nose at him.

  He caught my wrist. “Oh, no. No. That’s not going to happen. No way. Not unless you take one of my terminator robots.”

  Laughing again, I tackled him to the ground. He could have resisted, but he totally let me. “Listen to me! I will not be hiring a male escort. Not now, not ever.” I kissed him, nibbling on his delectable bottom lip, then lifting my head. “If I can’t handle the thought of you hiring a female escort for research, then I can’t ask you to be okay with it for me. That’s not fair, and that’s not right.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I was lying atop him now. He pushed a hand into my hair and used his other arm as a pillow. “So what are you going to do?”

  I rested my elbow on his chest and my chin on the palm of my hand, considering him. “I’ll have one of the other staff writers do it. It wouldn’t kill me to have another contributing writer. And I can re-interview the guy I was going to use—over the phone—and maybe a few of his colleagues.”

  He nodded, his eyes on where his fingers combed
through my hair. “If this compromise bothered you, you would tell me. Right?”

  “Right. But this doesn’t bother me. This feels right.”

  “Good.” He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, it sounded relieved. “I’m glad you changed your mind about that other thing.”

  “What other thing?” I kissed him again. I couldn’t help it. His lips were addictive, so close to that chin I loved.

  “The orgasm thing.”

  I stared at him, my body tensing. “What?”

  His eyes cut back to mine. “The orgasm meditation place.”

  “Um . . . ” I tilted my head to the side. “No. I’m definitely doing that.”

  “Excuse me?” His hand stilled in my hair and the wrinkle I found so adorable appeared between his eyebrows. “You’re not.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  After a protracted pause, he rolled me to the side, his fingers digging into my hip. “Marie. I’m definitely not okay with you going to an orgasm meditation place and getting fingered by some stranger.”

  “Matt—”

  “No. If you do this I will be really fucking pissed off.” His voice lifted with each word, and the way he was moving his jaw told me he was serious.

  Really fucking serious.

  I tried not to smile, but it was impossible. I loved how angry this made him. And what did that say about me? Clearly, I was still crazy Marie. Sick-in-the-head Marie. Loony Marie. The wearing-a-sweater-dress-in-mid-May, and running-after-my-hopes Marie.

  His eyes moved over my face and he clenched his teeth. “Is this funny?”

  “Listen, just listen to me—”

  Abruptly, he sat up, shaking his head. A flush had appeared high on his cheeks.

  Jeez, he’s really pissed.

  . . . Yay!

  “Matt.”

  He shoved his fingers into his hair, causing an accidental and haphazard Mohawk. “I can’t look at you right now.”

  I reached for his arm. “There’s no touching, Matt. No one is going to touch me. It’s all instructional. No one was ever going to touch me.”