She swats my arm as the knocking at the door grows more insistent.
Her smile is small, showing nerves she doesn’t bother to hide, and I get the sense that I’m still on duty today.
Like a bodyguard.
Except for emotional threats.
And if that’s the case, I’ve got a job to do.
She opens her palm, waiting for me to take it.
And I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
But I do.
She nods, her shoulders relaxing.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PATTY
Idon’t know what I expected from the Williams homestead, but it’s not this stampede of children rushing Lou in Christmas pajamas.
“I haven’t seen this many blonds since I was in Sweden,” I mutter.
Lou tilts her head. “When were you in Sweden?” She barely gets the question out before the kids crash into her, screaming her name.
Stupid, Patrick.
I expect her to drop it, thronged as she is, but she holds my eye even as the little streaks of mayhem beg her to hold them.
“Twelve or thirteen years ago.” I try to leave it at that, but her eyes spark, so I add, “For that band I worked with.”
She narrows her eyes, looking me over before turning her head to dole out kiss after kiss.
I try to count their heads, but they’re little blurs of mayhem, like human chickens. Are there four? Five?
“Auntie Lou!” one little girl squeals as Lou scoops her up. Then another bigger girl and a younger boy bang on her legs, waiting for her to grab them too.
“Sadie! Eloise! Atticus! My babies!”
Two older children—a girl of maybe eleven and a boy a year or two younger—hold back, like they’re trying to be cool but wish they didn’t have to be.
I wave at them, and they wave back. Then the younger ones run into the house, screaming that Auntie Lou is home. Lou bounces over to the older kids and wraps them into huge hugs, every bit as affectionate as the ones for the younger kids.
“Gracie, Wyatt, you are way too tall! How are you, my little geniuses?”
They give their answers—they’re both good, both happy to see her—and then she links their hands and points at me.
“This is my friend, Patty.”
Wyatt laughs and then instantly stops himself, as if he knows it’s bad manners to laugh at someone’s name. Which it is.
“Patrick,” I correct with a small shake of my head at Lou. “Good to meet you, Wyatt and Gracie.EspeciallyGracie.”
