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Before I can hit send, he answers me.
Patrick: Okay. See you in an hour.
“Cari…” Buzz “Cari… shit.”
Buzzz Buzz Buzzz
“Cari, I don’t have my key.”
Patrick’s voice booms through the open spaces of the apartment, the sound of it pulling me upright. I look at my phone. It’s 6:10.
Jumping off the bed, I run down the hall, my socks sliding across the slick, polished wood. The sudden movement sends me spinning, reminding me that I killed an entire mag of Dom on my own at Anton’s. If possible, I’m drunker now than I was when I closed my eyes an hour ago.
On the wall, next to the laundry room door is an intercom system. It looks complicated. Rolling the dice, I press the blue button marked with a white I. “I fell asleep.” I yell. “I’m sorry—I fell asleep.” I can hear street noise through the speaker but nothing else. “Patrick, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” It sounds like he’s laughing. “Open the door.”
I look at the control panel. There’s at least a dozen of them. “How—”
More laughing. “Green button marked D.”
I press it and hear another buzzing, this one far off, followed by the slam of a door. I step into the laundry room and open the door leading to the stairs. When I do, I find Patrick mounting them, juggling a half-dozen grocery bags. He’s on the landing before I can offer to help and I step back, pressing myself against the door frame to make room for him to pass through. Instead, he stops in front of me.
“Hi,” he says softly, and I have that feeling again. The one I had at Benny’s when he was unbuttoning my coat. He wants to kiss me. He wants to but he won’t.
I’m enough.
I raise myself on my toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. When I pull back, I return his smile. “Hi,” I say, pulling one of the bags from his arms. “You’re late.”
“I was on time.” He shakes his head, laughing. “You had me standing in the street, buzzing and yelling like a lunatic.” He moves away from me, stepping into the kitchen, leaving me to follow. He sets the grocery bags on the U-shaped island and starts unloading them.
“I fell asleep,” I say again, setting my bag down next to his.
He flicks me a quick, assessing glance, followed by a dimpled grin that makes me feel like the room is spinning again. “You sure passed out isn’t the term you’re looking for?”
“I might’ve had a glass of champagne—or five.” My hand flies to my hair, the other rubbing at my face. Jesus, I probably look terrible. As soon as I escaped dress-fitting hell, I changed back into the yoga pants and top I was wearing the first time Patrick showed up today. I feel my face crumple into a grumpy frown. “Don’t judge me—I was shanghaied.”
“Me? Judge?” Patrick laughs and shakes his head. “Have you met my family?” He reaches into the bag in front of him and pulls out a package wrapped in white butcher paper. “More than one of us would down a bottle of Jameson, run naked through the streets and call it Tuesday.”
I laugh because that actually happened once.
Reaching into the bag again, he pulls out a bottle of red wine. A nice one by the look of the label. I don’t know why, but something about it pulls at my brain. Makes me uneasy.
“So… shanghaied?” he says. Making short work of the cork, he sets it aside to breathe.
Next out are a few staples—milk, eggs, bread, butter. Blueberry yogurt. My unease passes.
I tell him about going to the garage to see Tess. Jessica showing up and dragging me to dress-fitting. The more I tell him, the tighter his shoulders get. “Jess’s been after her since we were kids—sometimes I think marrying Declan is more about torturing Tess than it is about the money.”
“You don’t think Jessica loves him?” I say, digging a bag of pre-prepped veggies out of one of the sacks.
“Hell no.” Patrick laughs, taking the veggies from me and setting them on the counter. “And he doesn’t love her either.”
“Then why would he marry her?” I don’t have to ask why a girl like Jessica would want to marry Declan. He’s wealthy, gorgeous, successful… the old me understands perfectly.
“He told me once that he’s marrying Jessica because he deserves her.” He shrugs. “Marrying her is a self-imposed punishment.”
“For what he did to Tess?” I still don’t even know what happened between them. All I know is it was bad.