Girl Next Door - The Complete Series (22 page)

Satisfied with my decision, but anxious too, I clicked off the TV and headed to bed. I promised myself that I would allow one or two more days for wallowing and self-pity (even if my pitiful state was self-induced) and then I would move on. Huddled under my blankets, I blinked up at the dark ceiling, feeling truly alone for the first time in a long time. Sleeping in the bed by myself had never really bothered me before. I liked my space and I tended to sprawl. It was crazy how, in one short week, I’d gotten so used to Patrick being next to me, to hearing him breathe. I forced myself to close my eyes and take a deep breath. I lay there for a long time, eyes closed, breathing steadily, until after what felt like an eternity, I dropped into sleep.

When I woke the next morning, it was a repeat of the day before. Boiling hot shower, half a pot of coffee, and breakfast before I left for work. While at work, I added to my collection of bruises by continuing to be a complete klutz. I ignored the looks I received from co-workers and patients alike. I knew they realized today that yesterday wasn’t a fluke and that something was wrong, but I was also grateful no one bothered me about it.

At the end of my shift, I steeled myself and went to the grocery store. I bought a few ingredients to cook a couple of meals for Aidan and Nat, and I also bought flowers and a few votive candles. Nat had lots of pretty knick knacks around her house, so I knew I would be able to find votive holders. My first task completed, I steered my Camaro toward Nat’s house, dread pooling in my belly.

When I arrived and parked in front of the house, I quickly gathered the stuff and dashed inside. Being locked up in Nat’s house did little to relieve my tension. Patrick had a key, which he’d been using with alarming regularity the last week, so I couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t just pop in. I nursed the small hope that his ego would be bruised enough that he would avoid me. I mean, I had broken up with him, and a guy like Patrick was probably not used to being the dumpee. I imagined ninety-nine percent of the time, he was the dumper.

Faster than I ever remembered preparing a meal before, I cooked up a couple of dishes for Nat and Aidan. I made a lasagna to put in the freezer and stir-fry for them to warm up when they arrived home tomorrow. I imagined neither of them would feel like cooking or going out after a long day of travelling.

After I put the food away, I washed the dishes and gave the kitchen a quick once over. When I was finished, I did a sweep of the rest of the house. I dusted in the living room and master bedroom, cleaned the bathrooms, and just straightened up in general. I was sure Nat would come up with some joke about how the house cleaning fairy visited while she was on her honeymoon. Then, she would angle for another visit when she took her vacation. I loved my friend, but if she could take advantage, she would. Of course, she would also return the favor for me if I ever bothered to take a vacation without her.

It was well after eight when I finished all this and I was starting to run on fumes. I made a half a pot of coffee and drank it while I arranged flowers in vases and put candles all over the living room and master bedroom. I came down from the master bedroom and started going through the house, turning off most of the lights. I left a couple of lamps on to give the appearance that someone was there. When I entered the living room, I walked to the gorgeous Tiffany-style floor lamp in the corner, Nat did have good taste, and clicked it on. I turned around and yelped. My feet tangled and I almost went down but I managed to right myself before the humiliation could be complete.

Patrick sat in one of the oversized chairs, slouched down and leg crossed, ankle to knee. He held a bottle of beer in one hand while the other started to tap lightly on his leg.

“Hey, Cat.” He took a swallow of beer. “This looks nice. I imagine Nat will appreciate it.”

I was a little disturbed by how casual he seemed. The last time I spoke to him, he was pissed and hurt. Now, he was looking at me the same way he did all the months before Nat’s wedding. Friendly, a little mischievous, but a little distant. I had disliked him being angry with me, but I found I hated this even more. He was acting like the last two weeks had never happened. His quick recovery made me want to seethe, even though I knew I had no right. I’d kicked him to the curb. If he wasn’t moping around pining for me, there was nothing I could do about it. Except, the little voice in my head was whispering that we were moping and pining, why wasn’t he?

I gulped, all these thoughts racing around in my head for about ten seconds after he spoke. Finally, I was able to form a reply.

“Thanks, Patrick. I left some food in the fridge for them, please don’t eat it, okay? I figure neither of them will be in the mood for a restaurant or cooking when they get home tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I had a similar idea, but my offering wasn’t as fancy as yours, just steak and beer.”

I smiled a little. The Hart brothers really were decent guys. My chest got tight when I realized that I’d thrown my chance away. I sucked in a deep breath. I had to escape. I had to leave
now
. Quickly, I scooted across the living room and out into the hall, headed for the kitchen, where my purse was sitting on the counter. In my head, I counted to ten, then twenty, anything to keep the sob stuck in my chest from coming out.
You chose this, Cat. You chose this
. I was repeating that thought in my head like a mantra, trying to remind myself that I didn’t want to get involved. That the pain I was feeling right now could only get worse when things ended.

I was almost to my bag, when Patrick’s hand gripped my arm, turning me to face him. I knew my face would give me away, so I fixed my eyes on his neck. I cleared my throat, trying to keep that damn sob down.

“Sorry, Patrick. It’s late and I have some stuff to do before I go to bed.” My voice was soft but surprisingly steady.

I swear I could feel his eyes boring into the top of my head, digging into my brain and discovering exactly what I was thinking. His hand tightened on my bicep.

“I understand. First, I made Nat and Aidan a belated wedding present, and I wanted to get your opinion. I was planning to give it to them tomorrow, but, if you think Nat won’t like it, please be honest. I don’t want to give them something they won’t enjoy.”

I blinked. “Patrick, really, I went into work at six this morning and it’s almost ten. I really need to get home and take care of things so I can go to sleep.” The thing I was planning to take care of was the crying jag I felt lingering in the pit of my stomach. What in the hell happened to ESP Patrick, who read my mood like it was posted on a friggin’ billboard? I guessed he was drinking a beer and watching a ball game, because I saw no trace of him when I glared up into Patrick’s face.

“C’mon, Cat. Just two minutes. I’ll walk you next door, let you look at it, then put you in your car so you can go home. I don’t want to give Nat something that she’ll hate.”

I sighed and nodded. Apparently, my willpower sucked. Well, I guess I should have already known that since lack of willpower was how I’d gotten into this mess. If I could have resisted Patrick’s handsome face and smokin’ hot bod, I wouldn’t be feeling lower than a cockroach right now.

Patrick led me next door and into the kitchen, where he pressed a huge glass of white wine in my hand. Without thinking, I chugged it and poured a lot more. I would sip this glass so I would be able to drive home and not have to spend the night next door to Patrick, suffering. I followed him into the back of the house, where a little workshop sat in the yard. He opened the doors and turned on the light and I gasped. Sitting in the middle of the shop, taking up almost all the free space, was a king size four poster bed frame. The wood was glossy and stained a rich cherry color. There appeared to be hand-carved roses and vines on the headboard and winding up the posts. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and I could tell it had taken many long hours to make such a gorgeous piece of furniture.

He ran his hands along the foot board. “Well, do you think Nat will like it?”

Dumbfounded, I nodded. His face dropped a little when I didn’t speak, so I cleared my throat. He needed to know exactly how special this was and to be warned that Nat would probably blubber all over him.

“Patrick, Nat will adore this. It has to be one of the loveliest pieces of furniture I have ever seen. I do have to warn you though, that Nat’s a bit of a crybaby. You do something this sweet and thoughtful for her and she’s going to snot all over you.”

His eyes widened then he grinned. “So she won’t think it’s too prissy or froufrou? I wanted it to be special, but didn’t realize that she wasn’t exactly a…” he paused, looking for the correct, well, least offensive, word.

“Girlie girl,” I supplied.

He nodded. “So she won’t hate it?”

I shook my head and took a huge swallow of my wine. This was yet another facet of Patrick Hart that I liked. Actually, I realized with shock, it was a part of him that I loved. To put so much effort into a gift for his new sister-in-law, and to care so much that she would like it, was an incredible thing. It said a lot of things about Patrick’s heart, and all of them were good.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh
crap
. I downed the rest of my wine and prepared to make the fastest escape possible. Patrick was watching me closely again and I did everything I could to feign casualness. He shut off the lights and shut and locked the shop doors before leading me back into the house. As we walked I realized that I’d had a lot more to drink than I thought and that I’d drunk it all on an empty stomach. I’d never been able to hold my liquor, another running joke in my family. One glass of wine made me relax, two made me even clumsier, and three put me in a coma.

When we walked into the kitchen, I eyeballed the wine bottle and realized that I’d actually drunk half of it! I examined my glass. The thing was huge. No wonder I was feeling a strong buzz. I also knew I wouldn’t be driving home tonight. Double shit, damn, and hell. I was going to have to sleep next door at Nat’s.

Again, doing that annoying mind reading thing, Patrick spoke. “Cat, I think you’ve had too much wine. You shouldn’t drive home.”

As much as I wanted to argue, stomp my feet, and tell he couldn’t boss me around, he was right. I glanced at the half-empty bottle again and decided, in for a penny, in for a pound. I poured myself another healthy glass.

“I think you’re right. I’ll sleep at Nat’s tonight.”

For some reason, this statement made him smile. I decided I really didn’t want to know. I imagined whatever he was thinking would just freak me out. I followed him into the living room and sprawled on the couch. My buzz was getting stronger and I was beginning to feel light and relaxed. Patrick stretched out next to me, drinking his beer. In my alcohol-induced haze, I realized that he was way too close to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I liked being close to Patrick. I was sitting there, contemplating this thought, tracing circles on the microsuede couch, when Patrick spoke.

“Cat,” he said.

“Hmm?” I was so relaxed even the little hum in the back of my throat took effort. I took another drink of my wine. Wow, the glass was almost empty already. When had that happened?

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay,” I sighed. I was too blissfully inebriated to understand what was about to happen.

“You promise?” he asked.

“Sure, Patrick.” My voice was quiet and a little breathy. I sounded a little like Marilyn Monroe. The thought made me smile dreamily.

“Why did you break up with me?”

I choked on a mouthful of wine and managed to swallow it down, coughing a little.

“What?” My head was fuzzy, but not enough for me to forget that I really did not want to have this conversation.

He studied me. “You heard me, Cat. And you also promised to tell the truth.”

I glared at him. I didn’t have to tell him diddly-squat. I threw back the rest of my wine and stood up.

“I think it’s time for me to go back next door, Patrick.” This grand statement was ruined when I listed to the side and almost lost my balance. Whoa, this wine was going straight to my head.

“Tell me why you’re so scared, Cat.” He was being too persistent.

I turned my back on him and paced in front of the fireplace, arms wrapped around my middle with one hand holding my now empty wineglass.

“Tell me.” His voice was a whip, snapping straight into my soul. I felt the ball that had been lodged in my chest earlier break loose and work its way up my throat.

I swallowed. I would not cry. I would not let him see me cry.

“Tell me,” he roared.

I snapped. My wineglass somehow left my hand without my permission, flying into the empty fireplace and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. Tears filled my eyes and my throat closed up.

“You really want to know, Patrick? Do you really?” This question was rhetorical. He’d already released the storm inside me and now he was going to get it all.

I paced in front of the fireplace, arms wrapped tightly around my middle. “I broke things off with you, because I can’t trust you not to hurt me. You’re a good guy, no, a great fucking guy, and it was too easy to fall in love with you. The falling isn’t the problem, though. It’s what comes after.” My hands reached up and tugged at my hair in frustration.

“It always happens. I meet a decent guy, someone who actually knows how to treat a woman, and he gets tired of me. I’m sarcastic, snarky, and sometimes just downright bitchy as hell. The deep-down nice guys can’t take it. They leave. They can’t deal with me. I try to be what they want, but they can’t or won’t stick around, no matter how much I twist myself up. The ones who are faking it to get into my pants turn into complete assholes then they leave, too. Though I’m usually not sorry when they do. Still, it’s the fact that it
always fucking happens
!”

The tears were running down my face now, but I was too wrapped up in my angst to notice. “I’m pretty sure, Patrick, that you are the real deal. An honest-to-goodness nice guy. I think I like more about you than I have any other man in my life, hell, I think that I love almost everything about you, and that’s why I broke up with you. Someday, maybe soon, maybe a year or two from now, you’re going to realize that I’m a pain in the ass to live with. I don’t mean to be, I try to be considerate, but I will always be the girl who makes sarcastic cracks or swears like a sailor. When you come to this conclusion, you’ll end it. It’s what happens, always. I just got tired of waiting around for the men in my life to make that decision. It’s easier on both of us if I end things before they get too complicated.” On this aspect, I’d accomplished an epic fail.