Deception (Infidelity #3)(8)

“Well, you’ve got the too-big clothes going for you, plus the red blotchy thing and puffy eyes. A little snot as you sniffle. Little cousin, you’re dazzling.”

I sighed. “Can I just stay here for a day or two and figure things out?”

“You know you can. I don’t even need to ask Cy. You’re always welcome, but what about your apartment?”

My shoulders moved up and down. “I told Chelsea she could stay there. She’s flying from California at the end of this week. I hate to get all settled only to have her displace me. Besides, I feel like I’d be on display there.”

“Display?”

“It’s a security thing. I’m kind of over it.”

Pat leaned back against the couch. “I had a good feeling seeing you with Lennox. Besides, you have that whole one-week history…” He fingered the rim of his wine glass, and I tried to ignore how it reminded me of my martini glass only hours before. “I’m sure you can work through this.”

“He has my number.”

“If these were normal circumstances, I’d tell you to forget all about him. I mean, who needs someone like Lennox Demetri? I can only imagine it’d be awful to have a boyfriend who redecorates a room for you, practically weeks after you move in. One who cares enough about your dreams to pay for your education and buy you whatever you want or need, one who gives you the ability to tell Uncle Alton and Aunt Adelaide to stick their conditions up their tight asses. And girl, his looks. Damn, nobody wants to put up with those sexy blue eyes. I mean the way they light up when you walk into a room and he looks at you like he’d eat you whole. I can see how that would get old fast.” He took a drink of his wine. “Honestly, I’m not sure how you managed to stay for this long.” He shrugged. “There’s always good ole Bryce.”

I sat forward, put my wine glass on the coffee table, and after placing my elbows on my knees, cradled my head. “I don’t need Bryce. Why do I need a man?”

“If you don’t know the answer to that question, my opinion of Lennox Demetri has just plummeted. I mean, I’m sure you have a vibrator.”

I sighed. The thought of the purple shaft tore at my heart. I looked up. “Pat, I should get some sleep. I have class early in the morning, and I’m sure you’ve got work.”

Setting his wine glass next to mine, he reached for my hand and turned it over. With his other hand, he gently touched my wrist. Unknowingly, I gasped and sucked my upper lip between my teeth as his fingers caressed my tender skin.

Suddenly all playfulness was gone from his expression. “Did he hurt you?”

I pulled my hand free. “No.”

“Alex, this is something totally different. I mean, the agreement has one out, and if your wrist is bruised.” He stood. “If that bastard—”

“Stop, Pat. Nox didn’t hurt me.”

“You what…” he asked incredulously, “…ran into a wall? Maybe you tripped?”

“No. None of those things. You’re wrong.”

He shook his head. “When you first got here, I thought you were mad. You weren’t mad. You were scared. You’re scared of him, aren’t you?”

Am I?

“No,” I said sitting taller. “I’m not. He didn’t hurt me, not physically. It’s about trust.” I stood, picked up my wine glass, took a long sip, and paced to the windows. With my back toward him, I asked, “How much does Cy know about you?”

I almost heard him shrug. “He knows me better than anyone.”

I turned. “Does he know what the girls said about you at academy?”

“That I’m great in bed?” he asked with a smirk.

“That you used them. All you wanted to do was get in their pants and move on.”

“It doesn’t take your friend Chelsea with a psychology degree to figure out that I was in denial.”

“That’s what I mean. Does Cy know about you?”

“We’ve talked. He’s older. It was tough for him to come out too.” Patrick shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but he was married, to a woman,” he added.

“Did they have children?”

“No. It didn’t last very long. You don’t know what it’s like…”

My chest grew tight, listening to him discuss his own struggles both as a teenager and a young adult. We were pretty close in our young teens, yet I didn’t know. It was but another shadow that lurked the hallways of Montague Manor, dancing in the darkness around the Fitzgeralds. Despite Patrick’s insecurities, he always appeared the opposite: cocky and self-assured.

I settled back onto the sofa.

When he was done, he asked, “Did you never suspect?”

I nodded. “I did. I remember hating the things other girls said about you. With our age difference, I usually heard secondhand rumors, but it never seemed like the Patrick Richardson they described was my Pat.”

He smiled a weary smile. “I always loved you.”

“Past tense?”

“No. I mean when it was just the two of us, I didn’t feel the need to overcompensate. We existed in our own world whether at Montague Manor or at my house.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t as if our parents gave a rat’s ass what we did, as long as we didn’t interrupt whatever they were doing.” A smile grew on his face, causing his cheeks to rise. “The only one who knew what we were up to was Jane.”