Carsen

Patrick McLoughlin has got dark and brooding down.

He was gone before I got up this morning, which is probably good because I might’ve said something that could have got me fired. Like, ‘what the hell is going on with you,’ or, ‘just talk to me and let’s get things on the table,’ or the least savory, ‘maybe if you strip my clothes off and do me you’ll relax and feel better.’

Now that Maeve is down for her nap, all I have time to do is paint and stew about the way Patrick has been acting since the night we stayed up and watched the sexy movie. Don’t get me wrong, he is a reserved man who tends to lean toward quiet contemplation, but he’s taking that to another level. When he’s around me now, he’s tense and seems as if he doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me. I wish he’d just talk to me. If he was like this with Maggie, I can see how it’d be frustrating to be with someone so closed off.

After my conversation with Lettie and the way Patrick has been acting, my curiosity is at an all-time high. Setting my paintbrush down because I’m getting nowhere, I tiptoe up the stairs toward Patrick’s room. The door is ajar, like it always is. I don’t expect him to come home anytime soon. Should I do it? Boundaries and respect tell me to walk away, but my intense desire to understand this man propels me forward into his bedroom.

It’s a large room with pale gray walls and matching chevron curtains. The bed is king-sized with a fluffy gray comforter. The décor is tasteful, probably put together by the interior designer. I open his nightstand drawer and find a couple of old birthday and Valentine’s Day cards, a few condoms, and some books, one Stephen King novel and one Dan Brown. Nothing out of the ordinary, although who knows what I thought I’d find in there. In the other nightstand, Maggie’s, I find a tube of lubricant and a small notebook. It could be a journal. If it’s a journal, I shouldn’t open it. That’s just wrong. Can I really do this? My stomach sinks just thinking about it. I’ve never invaded anyone’s privacy like this; it’s incomprehensible, but she’s gone and such a mystery. What if there are answers to her whereabouts? Hesitantly, I check myself and my conscience and open it.

Flipping through the pages, I go to the back. Her handwriting is thin and neat, easy to read.

Maeve is two months old now. Patrick is a great dad. He doesn’t mind feeding or changing her. I wonder if I’ll be a good mother. Patrick has been patient with me. I’m afraid to be intimate with him, even though the OB cleared me. He’s an amazing lover. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt, not to mention the fact that my stomach looks like pizza dough. He wants me, but I can’t even touch him right now. We had a healthy sex life. I wonder if we’ll ever get back there.

I feel icky and dirty reading this but some deep internal force pushes me forward, turning the pages toward older entries.

Being pregnant is easier than I thought it would be. Patrick makes me feel sexy. His eyes smolder for me and I want to yank off my clothes day or night. My hormones are going crazy. I’m like a sex-crazed teenager.

My phone ringing next to me scares me and I throw the journal off my lap. It’s Patrick. Shit. Does he know I’m in his room snooping around? I tuck the journal safely back in the drawer and vow to myself to never look at it again. Leaving Patrick’s room, I scurry over to my own and sit on the bed.

“Hello.” My voice comes out winded and breathy.

“Everything okay?” Patrick asks.

“Yeah, sorry. I was away from my phone. I had to run to grab it,” I lie and I hate myself for it.

“Okay. I was calling to ask if I could take you to lunch.”

Huh, really? He avoided me like the plague last night and today he wants me to go eat with him. Of course I can’t say no. “Sure, but I just put the baby down for a nap thirty minutes ago.”

“Can you call Tillie and ask her to come sit for you for an hour? She’s my elderly neighbor next door. She loves Maeve and has short play dates with her from time to time. She helps me out every time I call her. I’ll message you her contact information.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“If she’s available, I’ll meet you at the deli in thirty minutes. If not, give me a call back,” Patrick says. His tone is light, a nice change from the past couple of days.

A quick call to Tillie and she’s on board and will be over in a couple of minutes. I change out of my comfy clothes and into khaki shorts and a cute ruffled V-neck top. I brush my hair out and put on some mascara. Ready as I’ll ever be, I tell Tillie I’ll be back in an hour and head out the door.

When I pull up outside the deli, Patrick’s pick-up is already there. A little drumbeat starts up in my chest. The sound of his voice this morning was such a welcome sound after the past couple of days. I can only hope that he’s gotten whatever was bothering him out of his system. Patrick is a complex man. He’s gone through so much with his wife leaving and suddenly being a single dad. It overwhelms me, the desire to fix him and help make him whole again. I know it’s a foolish thing to want that. But yet I still do.

In the middle of the deli, Patrick is sitting at a table. He hasn’t noticed me yet. I take advantage of the moment to check him out. His features are more relaxed today, not the tight forehead and lips drawn into a thin line like last night. The planes and angles of his face are absolutely gorgeous. A memory from reading Maggie’s journal comes to mind about the fact that Patrick is an amazing lover. These aren’t the thoughts I need to be having about my boss, but damn he’s sexy and my nipples harden at the mere thought of his hands on me.

Walking up to the table, he’s got a sub sitting in front of him and two bottles of water. His eyes find mine and they immediately warm and a slow smile builds across his face, lighting it up. “Hey, thanks for meeting me.” He stands and comes to me before I can sit. His arms come around me and I’m immediately consumed by him, his warmth, and his clean sandalwood cologne. My heartbeat kicks up a notch being pressed into him and he lets go far too soon. “I got a turkey and provolone sub. Do you want half or if you’d like something else, I can go get it for you?”

“No, turkey sounds good. Thank you.” Taking my seat across from him, I open the water bottle in front of me and take a cooling sip.

Placing half of the sub on a paper plate, he sets it in front of me and says, “The first thing I want to say to you is I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

My eyes must be popping out of my head. This isn’t the first thing I thought I’d hear out of his mouth today. “Okay.”

“I know I’ve been off.” He wipes the palms of his hands on his jeans over and over again. “This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but you should know what’s going on with me. My life has been turned upside down and at times it’s hard for me to navigate.”

He’s got my full attention. “I understand.”

Patrick’s deep blues search mine, flaring with intensity. “I’m not sure if you do. That’s why I want to tell you that it’s been almost six months since my wife, Maggie, left me. Left us, Maeve and me. It was terrible and unexpected. I was completely blindsided. And to this day, I still haven’t heard from her.” He’s looking down now at his wedding band and he twists it around his finger.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say in a quiet, consoling tone.

He nods and bites on his bottom lip, but doesn’t look at me. Instead he stares off somewhere past me. “I was good to her. All I ever wanted was to live my life with her and have a family. I guess that isn’t what she wanted.”

We’re both quiet for a moment. I’m not sure what to say. It’s a terrible thing that happened to him. I haven’t known him long, but what I do know is he loves his daughter fiercely, he takes pride in his work and seems to love it, his family means everything to him, he’s incredibly handsome, and according to Maggie’s journal, he’s an amazing lover. What more could she want? Was she not fulfilled in some way? I’m sure these are the questions he keeps asking himself. It’s got to be maddening. But what can I say to him? Instead of words, I reach across the table and take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze.

Patrick looks down at our hands and then back up at me, a tight grin forming on his lips. “It’s been a rollercoaster for me. Some days I’m up and others I’m down. But you have my word that from here on out I won’t take you on the ride with me. I felt like an asshole, being short with you. It isn’t fair.” He runs his thumb over the top of my hand and that small gesture warms my entire body. “You’ve been nothing but amazing to Maeve and me, and I am grateful for that. I can’t thank you enough.” He runs his free hand through his hair and it’s almost as if I’m looking at a GQ model, he’s so damn hot.

“Thank you for sharing with me what you’ve been going through. I can’t imagine how difficult things have been for you. I’m glad I’m here and able to help you. And I’ve been told that I’m a good listener, so feel free to talk to me whenever you’d like,” I say.

Over Patrick’s shoulder, I can’t believe who walks in the door. My mouth goes dry and a pit forms in my stomach. My ex, Cole, just walked in. I’ve been avoiding his texts and phone calls and was hoping that I could avoid seeing him for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Patrick’s voice brings me back to the here and now. I don’t think Cole has seen me. How can I get out of here without him noticing me? “Oh, nothing. I’m fine. Just need to get home and take an ibuprofen, my head is starting to ache.”

“Of course.” He picks my sub up and wraps it back in the paper. I’ve barely touched it. “Here, you can take this home and eat it for dinner. Don’t bother cooking for me. I’ve got a late meeting.”

I take the sub from him, doing my best to control my shaking hands, and stand maneuvering around the table in an awkward way, attempting to stay out of sight of Cole. “Thank you for the talk and if you want to chat later, I’ll be awake when you get home.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” Patrick stands and I walk near him, hoping he acts as a shield.

He must think I’m acting crazy the way I’m walking perfectly in line with him like we’re in some kind of a parade. Whatever works. Once we’re out of the deli, it appears that Cole never saw me.

We’re parked next to each other. Patrick walks me to my car and opens my door, such a gentleman. “See you tonight.”

“Goodbye.” I look up at his face; he’s wearing a gorgeous easy smile. It’s so nice to see.

Back at home, I spend the rest of the day with the baby. I don’t think I was great company, replaying everything that went down this afternoon. It was amazing to have Patrick open up to me. He seemed lighter after he shared his past with me. But seeing Cole again brought me back to when he and I started dating.

Cole Michaels loves to party. At first, two years ago, when we all went out, it was normal for everyone to have a few beers. He was funny and charming, winning me over with his fun personality. But as time went on, he’d always want to drink. With breakfast and all day until after the parties were over into the wee hours of the morning. Once he went past the point of being just buzzed, he’d get jealous and angry. He started skipping his college classes and his grades showed it. When I would ask him to take it easy and take a day off from drinking, he’d get so mad at me. I held on as long as I could. The final straw was one night at a party when we were leaving, he wouldn’t give me his keys even though I was sober and he wasn’t. He left me in a field in the middle of nowhere because I wouldn’t ride with him drunk. My brother had to come get me. Cole didn’t take the break-up well. It’s been two months and he’s still calling, texting, and showing up at my mother’s house. I keep hoping it’ll fizzle out and he’ll leave me alone. Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow to remind him that we’re done for good and he’s wasting his time trying to get me back.

I’m in the living room reading a book when I hear the back door click. Patrick is home. My belly does a flip flop. Sitting up straighter, I watch for him to approach the living room. The house is barely lit, with the exception of the dim lighting in the living room. The figure walking toward me is shorter, with lighter hair. Shooting up off the couch, I back away as Cole walks toward me.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” My voice is panicked and I press my lips together to stop them from trembling.

“Hi, Carsen. It’s good to see you, too.” His gait is off as he walks toward me and his speech is slurred. No surprise that he’s had a few too many.

“What do you want?” I’m almost in tears now. I don’t trust him when he’s drunk. Who knows what he might do? He’s a loose cannon.

Stumbling closer to me, I back myself into another chair and have to stop. “You won’t take my calls, so I thought I’d pop in for a visit.”

Chills crawl up my spine at the tone of his voice and his proximity. How did he even know where to find me? He must’ve followed me after the deli and I didn’t even notice him. How could I be this careless? My job now is to appease him and get him out of here before he does something stupid. Taking a few calming breaths, I say, “Okay, what’s up?”

“Who are you dating now?” he asks.

“Nobody. I’m single.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re staying at this house now. I’ve stopped by your mom’s and you’re never there. And you two were holding hands. He looks quite a bit older than you.” A look of disgust crosses his features.

“I’m his nanny. That’s why I’m staying here. I needed a job to save money for school. You know that. What you saw today was me comforting him; he’s been going through quite a bit lately. I was being his friend.”

Shaking his head at me, as if to disregard everything I just said, he says, “That guy has feelings for you. I could see it in the way he was looking at you. You’re blind if you don’t notice it.” His voice is getting louder now.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have feelings for anyone. I want to be alone.” There’s no way I’m telling him the truth.

He stumbles closer to me and I can smell stale beer on his breath. I want to get away, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s got me cornered now. “I think you’re lying to me. Why can’t you see that we are perfect for each other? ” His hands come toward me, so I push him off. His eyes narrow and he presses the bulk of his weight on me and grabs the hem of my tank top, trying to pull it up and off.

“No,” I cry. “Don’t touch me.”