Unwrapped (28 page)

“It does make things easier, doesn't it?”

Patrick glanced over his shoulder to see the bum standing in the doorway.

“This way there are no messy good-byes.” The old guy moved farther into the room. “Your life can go back to the way it was.”

Patrick looked around the bedroom and, for the first time, realized what his life had been without Jacqueline—a cold room filled with only the bare necessities. No redhead in a flannel shirt. No laughter. No love. Just a sad construction worker who didn't know how to forgive. He glanced down at the letter, but he was having trouble seeing through the haze of pain that enveloped him.

“She just signed, ‘Jacqueline.'” His words came out in barely a whisper. “If she loves me, why didn't she write, ‘Love?'”

“Perhaps she didn't think that you wanted to hear it.”

Patrick shook his head. “It shouldn't matter whether I want to hear it or not. If you love someone, you should say it.”

There was a long pause before the bum's hand settled on Patrick's shoulder. It was amazing how warm the little guy was. The heat of his hand seemed to penetrate through Patrick's shirt and into his very skin.

“Then say it, Patrick,” he said in his kind voice. “Tell her what's in your heart.”

It was strange how such simple words could finally open a man's eyes and make him see what a fool he'd been. After all the years of allowing his brain to rule his life, Patrick finally allowed his heart to lead the way. It pointed him in one direction.

Jacqueline.

“When?” He turned to the bum and took his arms. “Do you know when she's leaving?”

The old guy glanced at his watch. A damned nice watch for a bum. “I'd say you've got just enough time to get to their hotel before they leave for the airport.”

Not even questioning how he knew that, Patrick headed for the door. But before he got there, the bum stopped him. “Not so fast, Patrick. I think you're forgetting something.” Patrick turned to find the white-bearded man holding out the kilt and grinning. “When you give someone a present, it's always best to have it wrapped.”

W
hat you need, Jac, is a good cry.” Gerald stopped packing long enough to toss Jac a box of tissues.

Due to the cast on her arm and her heavy heart, Jac made no move to catch it. Luckily, Bailey snagged it before it hit Jac right between the eyes. “Shut up, Gerald,” Bailey said.

“Why? It's true.” He went back to meticulously folding his fur-lined hoodie. “Both you and Jac could stand a good cry. It might help get rid of all that pain and anger you've carried around with you since childhood.”

“I don't have pain and anger,” Bailey snapped.

“And I'm not gay.” Gerald shot her a sugary smile. “I just like to sleep with men and decorate my apartment in subtle shades of pink and purple.”

Jac would've laughed if she hadn't felt so miserable. Gerald was right. She did need a good cry. It was too bad that all her tears seemed to be locked inside the hard knot lodged in her throat.

“Speaking of gay”—Bailey went back to packing her own suitcase—or more like haphazardly tossing her clothes in—“who was the mean-looking guy you were fawning all over at the emergency room?”

Gerald released a deep sigh. “Only the second love of my life. Unfortunately, the information I got turned out to be false. Barkley is as straight as Jennifer Aniston's hair. I would've known that if my gaydar hadn't short-circuited after the third mug of Aunt Wheezie's eggnog.” He shrugged. “Oh well, you never know until you try. So when does our flight leave?”

“In a few hours.” Bailey zipped her suitcase with a zing.

A few hours
?
The knot inside of Jac tightened. In just a few hours, she'd be on her way back to New York. Back to Gerald's small apartment. Back to Saturday movie nights and Sunday-morning coffee and pastry. Back to her old life. Except she didn't want to go back to her old life. She wanted to stay right here in her new life. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. Patrick no longer wanted her to stay here—with or without the baby. She could keep her tears in, but she couldn't seem to keep her bottom lip from quivering. It didn't go unnoticed by Bailey. With a look of concern, she sat down on the edge of the bed and took Jac's hand.

“We don't have to go, you know. We could stay right here until you and Patrick work things out.”

“No.” Jac shook her head. “there's no working it out. You heard him, Bay. He thinks I manipulated him. And he's right. I did manipulate him. So I understand perfectly why he wants a divorce.”

“So you weren't sleeping,” Bailey said. “I should've known. And since you were eavesdropping, you should know that Patrick didn't say
divorce
. I did.”

“But he didn't deny it. Nor did he say that he loved me.”

Gerald finished packing his skinny jeans and sat down on the opposite bed. “Patrick has never struck me as the type of man who's in touch with his emotions. Maybe he loves you, and he just doesn't know how to admit it.”

It was strange how the well-meaning words could strike such a chord in Jac. Probably because her mother had used the exact words every time one of her loser boyfriends had dumped her.
He loves me. He just doesn't know how to show it
.
But the sad truth was that not one of her mother's boyfriends had ever loved her. If they had, they would've stayed with her, regardless of her Irish temper and two bastard daughters.

True love conquers all.

Jac still believed that—would always believe that. If Patrick had loved her, he would never have let her go.

“No,” she said, “he doesn't love me. And I'll have to live with that.” Getting up from the bed, she started to pack. With one arm in a sling, it wasn't easy. But then again, neither was life. The knot in her throat was still there. In fact she didn't know if it would ever go away. Or if she would ever stop loving Patrick. But for now she had a baby to grow. A child to raise. And she intended to do a much better job than her mother had.

Bailey exchanged looks with Gerald before getting up from the bed. “So you want me to start the divorce papers?”

“Yes,” she said. “And while you're at it, you can inform Aunt Frances's lawyers. I already planned on giving Mr. Darby most of the money anyway. He turned out to be a very nice man with a very kind heart, and I'm thinking about volunteering for one of his low-income housing projects when we get back.” She expected some kind of reaction to the news. Instead there was a long stretch of silence that had her turning around. Bailey wore a half smile while Gerald's was much bigger.

“Well,” he said, “I guess we need to come up with another business plan. What do you think about a food service that delivers? We could call it the Gay Gourmet.”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “That's ridiculous.”

“It's not that bad, Bay,” Jac said. “After my hors d'oeuvres went over so well at Wheezie's Christmas Eve party, I think we have a chance with catering. We just need to stay away from weddings and do more casual cuisine. ‘Country Catering.' I think it could work.”

“And if it doesn't, I'm sure you two will think up something else,” Bailey said as she pulled them into a bear hug. “Now let's get to packing so we can check out.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on the elevator with their luggage and a very talkative bellboy.

“So you're leaving on Christmas day? That's a bummer. What? Did you get in a fight with your family? My dad got in a fight with my uncle one year when we went back to see my grandparents in Tennessee, and we left first thing Christmas morning. Pissed off my mom like you would not believe.”

Regardless of how upset she was, Jac couldn't let the boy's stab at conversation fall flat. “It's too bad that you had to work on Christmas.”

The teenager shrugged. “I don't mind. My family celebrates on Christmas Eve, and I get time and a half for working today. Besides, you get to see some strange shi—stuff on holidays.”

“Do tell,” Gerald said. “I love strange shit.”

The young man leaned closer. “Well, last Fourth of July, we had this country band staying here. And the groupies that follow them rented out a room on the fifth floor. They called because they'd run out of beer in the minibar, and when I brought more up, this one girl answered the door in nothin' but cowboy boots and a smile.”

“And what about the cowboys?” Gerald said. “Were they naked?”

The teenager looked confused. “Umm…I didn't notice. But the guy who showed up today was close to naked.”

“A cowboy?”

The kid shook his head. “No. I think he's Irish or something. Anyway, you'll get to see him when you leave. He's right out front and hasn't moved for the last half hour. Although how he's not freezing his ass—butt off, I don't know.”

Before Gerald could ask any more questions, the elevator stopped, and the doors pinged open. A huge Christmas tree with brightly wrapped packages beneath graced the sitting area in the lobby, and artificial boughs of greenery and ornaments hung along the front desk and above the revolving front door. They followed the bellboy to the set of doors to the right of the revolving door, and Gerald held one open so the bellboy could push the brass luggage cart through.

“So where is this naked guy?” Gerald asked once they were outside.

The bellboy nodded to the left. “I'd say he's in the middle of that crowd of people.” Jac followed his gaze to the people huddled around a horse and carriage, snapping pictures with their phone cameras.

“Come on, Jac.” Gerald took her arm. “Let's go take a look.”

Jac pulled back and shook her head. “You go on, Geri. I'll wait for the valet to bring around the car.”

“Come on.” He pulled her along. “Bailey can wait for the car. Being asexual, she won't be interested in a naked man anyway.” Having gotten their pictures, two young women ducked out of the crowd, giving Gerald an opening. Jac followed behind him, stepping on his heels when he stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” she asked as she tried to see around him. “And please don't tell me it's the third love of your life.”

“Umm…no,” Gerald said. “He's not the love of my life.” He turned with a very knowing and happy smile on his face. “I think you're about to get your fairy tale, Jac.” While she looked at him with confusion, he stepped to the side.

It took a moment for Jac to comprehend what she was seeing. Not the horse and carriage—she had seen the vehicles around downtown Denver—but the man who stood next to it. He wore nothing but scuffed work boots and a Scottish kilt that hugged his waist. His golden hair fluttered in the stiff wind, and snowflakes landed on his thick muscled arms before quickly melting into the heat of his skin. He paid little attention to the cold or the crowd that clicked its pictures. His gaze was focused on the revolving door of the hotel, his brow knotted, and his eyes intent.

“Did you bring your bagpipes?” a man asked. “Are you going to play Christmas music on your bagpipes?”

“Yeah, sweetie,” the woman next to him said, “show us your bagpipe.”

“Yes, do play your bagpipe,” another woman yelled from the back.

The comments might've gotten even raunchier if Gerald hadn't shouted, “Hey Patrick! She's over here.”

Green eyes swept over to Jac, and suddenly she forgot how to breathe. The feeling grew worse as he moved toward her. He stopped only inches away. So close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and take note of his red face. Since Jac had never seen him embarrassed before, it took her a moment to figure out the reason behind the color.

“Obviously, the bum has a few screws loose,” he said. “And I have a few loose for listening to him.” He seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes. “I guess I was willing to try anything to keep you from leaving.”

At one time that's all it would've taken to have Jac flinging herself into his arms. But now she needed more.

“Why do you want me to stay, Patrick?”

He swallowed. “Because I like what we have, Jacqueline. I like coming home and finding you there. I like playing pool with you, and watching movies, and going for runs. I like the way you cook, and care for my pets, and drool when you sleep.”

“I do not drool.”

“You drool.” He smiled, and it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds. Heat warmed her entire being from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as he took her hand and cradled it between his. “Come home with me, Jacqueline.”

It would've been so easy to agree. Her body was already leaning toward him. But despite all the beautiful things he'd said to her, there was one he'd left out. One that she needed to hear before she could ever completely give her heart and soul to a man. But she wasn't going to spell it out for him. If his love wasn't given freely, she didn't want it.

She leaned in and brushed a kiss over his lips. “Good-bye, Patrick.” She turned and walked through the crowd of people, who now watched her as much as they had Patrick. Bailey was tipping the valet when she looked up and saw Jac. Always able to read her sister, Bailey immediately grew concerned.

“What happened—”

“Jacqueline!” Patrick bellowed as loudly as his father as he pushed through the crowd. “You are not leaving,” he ordered, and then lowered his voice when she looked at him. “You can't leave me, Jac. Not when I love you—when I've loved you ever since you dropped into my life that Halloween night.”

The words had the lump in Jac's throat melting like the snowflakes on the concrete. Tears that she had held in submission for so long leaked from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. And she had no strength or desire to stop them.

“I love you too,” she sobbed. “And I have ever since you took a bite of me.”

In two strides Patrick had her in his arms. “Don't cry, baby. Please don't cry.” He cradled her chin and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs before he lowered his head and kissed her. At the first touch of his lips, the world ceased to exist. It was just her and Patrick floating in a bubble of happiness.

“Excuse me, sir?”

They pulled apart to find a man dressed in livery standing there.

“I'm sorry, but the hotel says I need to move.” The man opened the door of the carriage. “So if you're ready?”

Patrick looked at Jac in question and held out a hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. He helped her up into the carriage. On the seat were a fuzzy blanket and a pastry box. She glanced back at him, and he shrugged.

“I figured a chocolate croissant couldn't hurt.” He moved the box and picked up the blanket, waiting for her to take a seat before sitting next to her and tucking the blanket around them both. When she was cuddled in his arms, Gerald and Bailey stepped up to the carriage.

“I guess the Gay Gourmet will have to wait,” Gerald said.

Since the thought of her best friend leaving made her sad, she didn't reply. Fortunately, Patrick answered for her. “Not if you move to Denver. I think Jacqueline could use something to keep her out of the shopping malls.”

Gerald smiled. “You're right. And I hear that Denver's a great place to fall in love.”

“The best,” Jac said as she grinned up at her husband. He rewarded her with a kiss that made her sigh. Then he turned to Gerald and Bailey.

“I expect to see both of you back at my parents' house. Since Mom didn't get to throw her Christmas Eve party, she's gone all out on a Christmas wedding reception.”

Jac looked at him with surprise. “You and your family were pretty sure of the outcome. What if I hadn't agreed to stay?”

He flashed a smile that warmed her heart. “Then I would've chucked the romantic crap and kidnapped you. It's not like McPhersons haven't done it before.”