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FORTY-FIVE
Cari
After Tess leaves, I throw my half-eaten piece ofpizza into the trash and wash the plate before drying it and putting it and its unused companion back where they belong. Afterward, I take a quick shower before settling into one of the huge leather club chairs with my sketchbook, positioning it in front of one of the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the Charles River.
I meant to sketch the view, but all I can do is draw his face, over and over, like some lovesick teenager. Next, I’ll be writing Mrs. Patrick Gilroy in my notebook and dotting my letter is with little hearts.
Finally, I give up and call him.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey,” he says, in that calm, soothing voice of his, immediately reminding me of what happened the last time we talked on the phone.
“Hi…” I clear my throat, wincing at how nervous I sound. “I’m sorry I didn’t call right away. Tess—”
“I understand,” he says, in the background, I can hear the creak of his office chair as he leans back. “I had a visit from Con this morning.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles softly. “It didn’t go well… How’s Tess.”
“She’s a mess,” I tell him, pulling my knees up to my chest to rest my chin. “I tried talking to her, but I don’t think anything I said made much of a difference.”
You should take your own advice.
Tess’s parting shot rings in my ears, so loud, it takes me a second to realize that Patrick is talking to me. “What was that?”
He laughs softly. “I said, how’d you sleep?”
“Not great,” I say, staring out the window. My comment is greeted by a long stretch of silence before he finally says something.
“About tonight...” He stops talking like he’s trying to figure out a way to say something I’m not going to want to hear. “I know I said I’d—”
“Will you have dinner with me?” I say before he can finish. I’m not sure I want to hear what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Tonight. I meant to ask you sooner but… I’m supposed to go with Chase and Miranda—they have some sort of news they want to give me, which makes me nervous and I don’t want to go alone, so I thought…” I’m rambling, I know I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop talking. “I’d like you to go with me. If you can. If you want.” I drop the phone away from my face for a second, trying to gather myself. Steel myself for a rejection. I raise the phone, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay to say no, Patrick. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“What time should I pick you up?
My eyes pop open. “Really?”
“Really.” Patrick laughs, the sound of it—of him—in my ear, reminds me of last night and I flush, from head to toe.
He said yes.
“Reservations are for nine,” I tell him, fighting the grin threatening to take over my face. “At Davino’s.”
He’s quiet. Quiet enough to dim the smile on my face. I open my mouth to ask him if something is wrong, but he beats me to it.
“Then I’ll be there to pick you up at eight.”
“Hey, Legs—open thedoor.”
I’m standing at the stove, about to flip my grilled cheese when Conner’s voice pushes its way through the intercom. He sounds irritated. Almost angry.
Remembering what Tess said—that he’s been driving her crazy all day long—and what Patrick said—that he drove all the way to their office in Seaport, looking to pick a fight with his brother—I debate whether or not I even want to deal with him right now.
Like he can read my mind, he pushes the intercom again. “The request was just a formality, Legs,” he says, sounding almost bored. “I can bypass this lock in about fifteen seconds, so just—”
I cut him off by pressing the lock release. Five seconds later, I can hear his work boots pounding up the stairs. I open the door for him before making my way back to the kitchen to tend to my lunch.
“You seen Tess?”