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“My pleasure,” she says before hurrying off.
When I reach for my fork, Quinn grabs my wrist. “Marlow, there will be plenty of time to eat later. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”
“Fine.” I begrudgingly set my fork down. “Dylan came over on Friday morning to check on me when I didn’t show up at his place. He found me sick in bed and took the day off to clean my house and cook me soup. He also washed my hair because I was too weak to stand in the shower. Oh, did I mention that he tried to train Waffles?”
“He. Washed. Your. Hair? Oh my god, I’m swooning.” Quinn puts her hand to her forehead in a dramatic fashion. “Andi, please tell me you heard that.”
“I heard.” She laughs before taking a bite of her biscuits and gravy.
“That’s what you got out of my story? Did you not hear the part where he tried training Waffles? My dog is perfect just the way he is,” I declare.
“Except when he’s terrorizing the town while chasing a squirrel down Main Street,” Quinn pipes up between a bite of bacon.
“Or when he’s trespassing into your neighbor’s backyard,” Andi adds.
Leave it to my friends to give me their unsolicited opinions.
“Okay, I guess Waffles could use some training, but is Dylan the right person for the job?”
Something tells me he probably is because he’s good at everything else. I don’t know any other men who can braid hair, cook gourmet meals, or who take a day off from work to care for his daughter’s nanny when she’s sick. Although I’d like to think I mean more to him than that.
“Girl, if a man willingly cleaned my house, made me a home cooked meal, and washed my hair, I would gladly let him train my dog,” Quinn says with a mouthful of pancakes.
“Same,” Andi agrees.
I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Waffles learned to follow directions. I make a mental note to chat with Dylan about it when I see him in the morning.
“Does this mean you guys are an item now?” Quinn asks with an upbeat tone. “At least tell me you’re planning to get some action. Clearly that man is into you.”
“No. Right now, my focus is on Lola and my upcoming art exhibition.” I avoid Quinn’s gaze, staring down at my toast. I’d prefer not to hash out my overly complicated feelings for Dylan right now.
I pick up my fork, ready to dig in, only to be interrupted again.
“Enough about your non-relationship”—Andi uses air quotes for emphasis—“with Dylan. I want to know how your collection is coming along for The Artist. Gavin is doing a phenomenal job promoting it on social media, and I can’t wait to see how it turns out. I wish I could be there in person.”
Her nephew Charlie has a hockey game on the same day as my exhibition. While I would have liked for her to come, I would never ask her to choose me over her family obligations.
I groan as I throw my hands over my face. “It’s been slow going. I have three more pieces to finish and only a few days to do it.”
“Oh boy. Gavin won’t be happy if he has to chase down another delivery truck around Manhattan,” Quinn warns me.
“Yes, I’m very much aware.” I shoot her a playful scowl. “I’ve blocked out my schedule this week, so aside from watching Lola, I’ll be locked away in my studio until the collection is complete,” I state confidently. “I’m feeling more inspired, so I’m hopeful these final pieces will be less challenging than the others.”
Quinn smirks. “I wonder where your newfound inspiration came from.”
“Will you stop it,” I feel a blush rising to my cheeks.
“I didn’t do anything,” she says, feigning innocence.
“Uh-huh. In that case, I’m going to eat my breakfast now.” I finally take a bite of the avocado toast drizzled with olive oil and groan in satisfaction.
We spend the next hour eating our breakfast and catching up. Quinn shares her plans to expand the classes she offers at Brush & Palette, and Andi updates us on the changes happening at her law firm. She also fills us in on the recent shenanigans Charlie has gotten into with his pet chickens.
“Oh shoot,” Quinn mutters when she checks the time. “I’ve got to run. I canceled the Family Craft Corner class while I was out of town and rescheduled this week’s session for today.” She scrambles out of her side of the booth. “Should I tell Dylan hi for you?” she asks me with a smug expression.
I can’t believe she actually changed the class name because of him.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn her as she runs out of the coffee shop.
