by Penny Reid
Searching my brain, I sought to recall the last time I’d been embraced, the last time I’d allowed it to happen without overthinking and forcing myself to relax. Or, the last time I hadn’t automatically stiffened and felt suffocated.
When he’d greeted me prior to lunch the day before.
And knit night.
The ladies always hugged each other. I’d hugged Sandra last week as part of a group embrace. A few weeks before that, Sandra and I had cuddled under a blanket on Elizabeth’s couch. Sandra loved to cuddle and her enjoyment of it had rubbed off on me over the years, but only with them.
I only enjoyed cuddling with my friends.
My boss had initiated a hug last winter break. After giving me an effusive speech about how valuable I was and handing over my bonus check, she’d hugged me and I’d turned into a statue. When she’d backed off and apologized, I made some excuse about having menstrual cramps, heartburn, gas, and diarrhea. That’s right, all four.
One of the architects at work had tried to give me a hug. I’d made him and his wife soup and a loaf of bread while they were sick with the flu, and I’d watched their two kids so they could sleep on a Saturday afternoon. He was overwhelmed with gratitude upon returning to work. I stuck out my hand hurriedly as he opened his arms for an embrace, leading to a full minute of the awkward do-we-shake-or-do-we-hug tango, a close relative of the which-side-of-the-sidewalk-are-you-walking-on polka.
Dan wasn’t holding me tight, and his hand rested on my shoulder. His other hand fiddled with my fingers where they lay on my leg in a way that felt absentminded and therefore natural.
Embracing wasn’t something I did lightly. Hugs required a level of trust, and it placed a person in a physical position of weakness. Yet here we were, cuddling, and for some magical reason, I let it happen.
“We’re here, and it looks like—” Dan shifted beneath me and I felt his muscles tense. “What the—”
I lifted my head to look at him. He was staring out the window, frowning. The hand that had been fiddling with my fingers was on the door handle, like he was ready to jump out of the SUV as soon as it came to a complete stop.
Following his gaze, I tilted my head to the side to see out the glass. Janie and Quinn were standing just outside the front door of the building along with Lawrence, the concierge, and Charles, the doorman. Quinn had his arm around her, like he was helping support her weight, and she was holding her belly. Even from this distance, I could see her forehead was knotted, as though she were uncomfortable or in pain. Charles and Lawrence appeared agitated, looking at her and then away toward the underground parking garage exit. Quinn’s eyes were trained on our car as we pulled up.
As soon as we stopped, Dan gave my knee a quick squeeze and then was out the door, jogging to our friends. I jumped out after him, having to settle for a power walk instead of a jog due to the height of my heels.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dan stepped next to Janie, his arm coming around her like he planned to pick her up.
“No. Don’t. She wants to stand.” Quinn’s tone was even, but I knew the calm was deceptive. His eyes were wide and rimmed with worry, his gaze sweeping over Dan, moving to me, narrowing. “She’s in labor. Her water broke.”
“Okay. Okay. What can we do?” Now Dan’s face contorted, like he was also in pain. “Should we call an ambulance?”
I inserted myself between Dan and Janie, but I didn’t touch her. She’d complained early in her second trimester about people feeling entitled to touch her just because she was pregnant.
“What can I do?” I asked, a pang of worry slicing through me.
She reached for my hand, her grip tight, her forehead clearing as her eyes met mine. “Sorry. Contraction. Call Elizabeth. Let her know we’re on our way. And can you get my bag? And the baby’s? Quinn didn’t want to wait for me to finish packing.”
“Now is not the time to pack.” His voice was cold, remote. But I knew him well enough by now to recognize this was how he handled fear.
“He’s just upset I didn’t tell him when my water broke,” she explained, giving me a little smile. “Only about fifteen percent of women have their water break before they go into labor, and the number is even less for first pregnancies.”
Quinn slid a glare to his wife, but spoke to Dan. “Nicolas is bringing a car.”
“When did your water break?” Feeling helpless, I held her hand in both of mine, wanting to transfer all my love and good vibes to her through the contact.
“An hour ago. Most doctors agree that, after your water breaks, both the baby and the mother are at an increased risk of infection due to organisms that can enter the amniotic sac. Of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean it’s automatically unsafe to labor longer than twenty-four hours after one’s water breaks, though most medical professionals will recommend antibiotics to prevent infection if a woman labors longer than twenty-four hours, which makes sense to me. I was packing the baby’s bag when it happened, so I stopped and made a sandwich.”
“Your water broke so you made yourself a sandwich?”
“Yes. And some lemonade. I’ve been told they won’t let me eat at the hospital during labor.” Her grin widened and she started to laugh. “You should have seen Quinn’s face when he figured it out. I tried to cover the wet spot in the baby’s room with a towel but I couldn’t bend down to pick it up.”
Ignoring Janie, Quinn lifted his chin toward the SUV we’d just evacuated, to where Stan looked on anxiously, hovering just outside of the driver’s side door. “We’ll have Stan drive us since your car is already here. Kat will bring the bags and follow with Nicolas.”
“Yeah, makes sense. Okay.” Dan moved around me, forcing me to release Janie’s hand, and slipped his arm behind her back once again. He then helped Quinn walk her to the car.
“I can walk, you know.” I couldn’t see her expression, but her voice sounded amused. “It only hurts when I have a contraction, and not even that bad.”
Quinn said nothing, stubbornly keeping his arm in place.
When they reached the car and Quinn moved to help her in, she said, “I can also get in the—”
He cut her off, grabbing her face and fastening his mouth to hers. And then he kissed her like they were alone, like maybe this was their last time kissing, like she was the love of his life and he hungered for her more than life itself.
I glanced at Dan. He glanced at me. We shared a wide-eyed look.
Janie groaned, breaking the kiss to suck in a breath, her hands coming to his wrists.
Quinn leaned away and touched his nose to hers. “Please stop fighting me and let me help.” It was the first time a note of something other than calm entered his voice.
“Fine.” The wrinkles reappeared on her forehead and she spoke as though words were difficult. “But if you hover and boss me around in the delivery room, I will send you on a snipe hunt.”
Chapter Twelve
Trade Secret: A formula, practice, process, design, instrument, pattern, commercial method, or compilation of information not generally known or reasonably ascertainable by others by which a business can obtain an economic advantage over competitors or customers.
—Wex Legal Dictionary
**Kat**
Stan drove Janie, Quinn, and Dan. I was relieved Stan was driving. Both Quinn and Dan looked like they were incapable of steering a remote control car.
Charles escorted me to Janie and Quinn’s penthouse while I texted Elizabeth to give her a heads-up. The baby’s bag sat on top of the changing table, open and half packed. I checked it, filling it with all the necessary items, plus a few unnecessary items—three changes of clothes, blankets, diapers, wipes, pacifier, burp cloth, hat, mittens, socks, etcetera. Once satisfied, I went to the master bedroom and easily found Janie’s bag in the closet, all packed and ready to go.
Catching my reflection in the bedroom mirror, I realized I was still wearing my pretty dress, which reminded me that Dan was still wearing his g
orgeous suit.
His suit brought to mind our wedding at the Clerk’s office and everything after, especially how natural it had felt to be held by him. This, of course, had me wondering if everything between us would be just as natural and easy. I hoped so.
God, I hope so.
Perhaps Dan would be my lucky charm, my get-out-of-jail-free card. Maybe he would be the answer to my inability-to-enjoy-physical-intimacy-without-alcohol problem, and all this fretting and therapy was just to prepare me for this moment and—
Wait. Wait a minute. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Blowing out a breath, I pushed those thoughts away. Daydreaming about Dan and his magical talent to distract me and make me feel comfortable even while turning me on would have to wait until later. Janie was in labor. I needed to change, get to the hospital, and support my friends.
“Hey, Charles.” I wheeled Janie’s bag to the living room, searching for the doorman.
“Yeah?” Charles already had the baby’s bag over his shoulder and reached for Janie’s rolling suitcase as soon as I drew near.
“Will you let me into Dan’s apartment? I want to take him a change of clothes.”
“Sure thing.” His gaze flickered over me, landing on my left hand before he turned and crossed to the door. “You don’t have a key?”
Caught off guard, I covered my ring finger. “No. Not yet.”
“It’s okay. I have one.”
I followed him out and down the hall, feeling a tad puerile for some reason. “Thank you.”
“It’s all good,” Charles called over his shoulder, arriving at the elevator and pressing the down arrow. “Nice people should marry nice people, that’s what my mom says.”
I gave him a grateful smile and was about to thank him as we boarded the lift, but he wasn’t finished.
“Does his mom know? About you two getting married?”
The elevator doors closed and I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say, I don’t know. The admission felt like revealing too much: Dan and I hadn’t yet discussed his family, we’d married in a hurry, so many things were unresolved and confusing between us.
Charles reached into his pocket and withdrew a key, handing it out to me. “Don’t lose this, it’ll get you into all the doors on this floor. I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re done.”
“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.
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.”