Patchwork Paradise(69)

“You need to sit down or I’m shoving a Xanax down your throat.”

I glared at Cleo, walked into the hallway, peered through the frosted glass oval in my front door, saw nothing but pouring rain, and twisted around to face the tall mirror beside the coatrack. When Thomas had texted me this morning asking if the date was still on . . . Well. There had been squealing.

My hair was perfect, for once. I’d gone to my hairdresser right after work, and she had performed a miracle. She’d managed to make it smooth and soft on the sides, and swept my bangs back in some sort of bump that veered off the right. I looked stylish and fabulous, so of course it was raining like it hadn’t rained in weeks. I was wearing a new pair of tight, distressed jeans that hugged my ass lovingly; a crisp, gray, short-sleeved button-down; and a thick burgundy cardigan with large buttons. I’d taken it off for now because all the pacing was making me hot.

Cleo was right. I needed to sit down before I began to sweat. I glanced at the overnight bag I’d packed and suppressed the urge to run my hands through my hair. I didn’t know if we were still going to spend the night at his house, but I wanted to be prepared.

“He’s fifteen minutes late,” I told Cleo, who was lounging on my sofa, ready for babysitting duties. “What if he changed his mind? What if he’s not coming? What if he is coming and I’m such a disappointment he never wants to see me again?”

She sat up quickly and pointed at the other end of the couch. I hurried to go sit.

“Okay, here’s the thing: he’s been in love with you for so long, you could have a tiny dick, and he wouldn’t care.” I squawked, but she held up a hand. “By now we all know that’s not the case, thanks to Sam’s talented hands.” She gave me a stern look. “He has a baby, Ollie. A baby he’s been alone with for a week. People with babies are never on time.”

“Okay.”

“Aw, Ollie.” She scooted over and put her hand on my leg. “You’ll be fine.”

I covered her hand with mine. “I’m sorry. I’m being a total insensitive ass, aren’t I? How’s it going with you? Imran decided he didn’t want to babysit?”

She shrugged. “We broke up.”

“Oh no, Cleo . . .” I straightened, ready to hug her if she needed me to, but she looked surprisingly calm and collected.

“I’m okay with it, actually. I think . . . I have some things I need to work through. And I think I want to be single for a while. We were good together, but . . . I fell from one relationship into the next. I’ve never been alone, and I think I want to be.”

I knew what she meant. “When did you see him last?”

“He moved out on Sunday night. I haven’t seen him since. He calls every day though. The hardest thing will be giving up the apartment. I love that place, but I can’t pay for it by myself. I’ll have to give the landlord my month’s notice.”

“Oh, babe.” I put my arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. She might not need a hug, but I did. Everything was changing. “You know you can stay here for as long you need to if you can’t find anything better.”

“With you and Thomas and a baby?”

“Fingers crossed, right? I mean it. There’s plenty of room. And if things don’t work out with Thomas, I might need you here to console my inconsolable self.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Are you sure you’re done with Imran?”

“I’m not sure, no. But I don’t see how I can forgive him making me feel bad over what happened with Thomas while he has ‘commitment issues.’” She finger quoted the last bit. “It’s such a clusterf*ck, but I still love him.”

“You have to do what’s right for you though,” I told her and squeezed her tighter. “Even if it’s difficult right now.”

She nodded. “I know.”

The doorbell rang, and I sprang up so fast I nearly dumped Cleo on the floor. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She laughed, then stared at me. “Well?” She widened her eyes. “Are you going to let him stand out there in the rain?”

“Oh shit!” I sprinted to the door and yanked it open. “Hi,” I said breathlessly. Disappointment nearly strangled me when I saw that he didn’t have Milo with him. I stepped aside automatically to let him in. “Is . . . Are we changing plans?”

“A little bit,” Thomas gave me a dark look, and had opened his mouth to say something else when Cleo appeared in the hallway.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. Have a good time, boys.” She winked, pushed open the umbrella she’d left by the door, and disappeared into the rain.

I stared after her. “But . . .” I looked at Thomas. “Where’s Milo? Why is Cleo not babysitting him? Did you change your mind?”

Thomas crowded me against the front door, tilted my chin up, and kissed me. He nipped at my mouth and sucked on my tongue, bit the edge of my jawline, and licked the tendon stretching taut at the side of my neck.

He looked a little dazed when he came up for air. “What did you ask me?”

“Why Milo isn’t babysitting Cleo. Or . . . something along those lines.” I surreptitiously let the door take my weight because my knees felt like they were made from marshmallows.