25. Kai
Twenty-Five
Kai
I'm still sitting in a conference room at Volkov Towers at ten o'clock at night.
Which means my day has officially gone to shit.
Not because I'm working.
I don't mind work.
Hell, I like work.
I understand work.
Work makes sense.
People try to kill you? You stop them.
People threaten your clients? You protect them.
Simple.
Women?
Women have never made much sense to me.
Until Mary.
And now I'm discovering I don't particularly enjoy anything that keeps me away from her.
Especially after the weekend we just had.
Mary's an old-fashioned woman, which I find ridiculously adorable.
She won't stay over unless her mother is out of town.
Apparently Mrs. Donahue worries about appearances and Mary respects that.
I should think it's silly.
Instead, I think it's sweet.
And really, I think her mother likes me. Or at the very least, she doesn’t seem to mind leaving her daughter with me.
First, Mrs. Donahue went to Atlantic City for the weekend with her knitting group. Then it was a vineyard tour somewhere in North Jersey.
This past weekend? They’re touring flea markets in Amish Country.
The woman is busier than half the operators at Sigma.
And honestly? I'm glad she's happy.
I know I am.
Because when Mrs. Donahue goes away?
Mary stays with me.
And I'm finding myself addicted.
Not to the sex.
Okay, fine. The sex is incredible.
But that's not it.
It's waking up with her curled against my side.
It's hearing her sleepy little noises in the morning.
It's watching her wander around my kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts and fuzzy socks while she makes coffee.
It's the way she steals my bacon and pretends she didn't.
It's how she says grace before breakfast and then threatens bodily harm if I tease her about it.
It's seeing my toothbrush sitting beside hers in my bathroom.
Jesus Christ.
A toothbrush.
I'm old enough to know better, and yet I'm getting emotional over dental hygiene.
What the hell happened to me?
Because before Mary?
Women didn't stay.
Neither did I.
One night.
Maybe two.
Wham bam, thank you ma'am.
No complications.
No attachments.
No expectations.
No making plans or leaving clothes in my apartment.
Hell, I used to pride myself on being able to walk away.
Now? Now I'm annoyed she took her favorite shampoo home because I liked seeing it in my shower.
Who gets sentimental over shampoo?
Apparently, me—Kai Montego, former man-whore, and current lovesick idiot.
The realization is deeply unsettling.
Because somewhere between fake dating and listening to her tell me stories about her first graders, I stopped thinking of Mary as temporary.
Somewhere between Bingo Night and Thai food and waking up tangled together in my bed, I stopped looking for the exit.
Hell, I started looking for forever.
I know exactly when it happened, too.
One Sunday morning.
She'd been asleep.
Curled against me.
One hand resting over my heart like she'd put it there for safekeeping.
Sunlight spilling through the windows.
And she'd sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer.
That was it.
That was the moment.
The exact second I realized I was fucked.
Because instead of wondering when she'd leave—I found myself wondering what kind of ring she'd like.
Jesus. Christ.
I actually sat there thinking about engagement rings.
Me.
The guy who once broke up with a woman because she bought matching Christmas pajamas.
And now?
Now I know exactly how many bedrooms I'd want in a house.
Because Mary needs space for her books—God can that woman read.
And I’m not talking about biographies or histories—that woman’s collection of romance could start fires, but I’ll get in to that another time.
Mary deserves her own library.
And an oversized bathroom with one of those giant tubs women like for some reason.
And there should probably be a playroom someday.
Whoa.
Playroom?
Kids?
I rub a hand down my face.
Holy shit.
I'm becoming my brother.
Worse.
I'm becoming my mother.
Because I can already hear Mom asking when she's getting grandchildren.
And the terrifying part?
The thought doesn't make me run.
It makes me smile.
Which is how I know this thing has gone way beyond serious.
I'm not dating Mary Donahue anymore.
Not in my head.
In my head she's already mine.
Not like a piece of property.
More like she’s a part of me now.
Mine in the forever sense.
The wife sense.
The old-and-gray-on-the-front-porch sense.
The woman I'll spend the rest of my life with.
And somehow—somewhere between the fake dating and falling asleep with her in my arms—I became absolutely certain of one thing.
I'm going to marry this woman.
“Earth to Kai? Care to share with the class?” Noel Kane interrupts my train of thought.
“I’m gonna marry her!”