The meeting about Samuel Delton didn’t start until one to allow James and Dean O’Connor to join. And it was— Pat touched his phone screen until the time lit— only seven. If he took an hour to shower and dress, that’d put him at eight. Breakfast— forty-five minutes maximum. Write a letter to River, part of his grand plan to win her back— one hour. So, that left three hours and fifteen minutes before the meeting.
He wanted to check out how their building was coming along, but he’d have to ask Bran if he could. Fuck, that grated, but again, he was only reaping the rewards of his stupidity. Throwing the covers off, he grabbed his toiletry bag, digging around until he found the electric razor. He shaved one side of his head on the second to the lowest setting before taking a quick shower. Patrick dressed in brown trousers and a fitted off-white, long-sleeved shirt. His white hair fell to one side. River said he looked like a Viking with his hair like that. Since she’d kissed him after saying it, Pat figured she must like the look, so he would be keeping it.
Only twenty minutes had passed. So much for wasting an hour on grooming.
Patrick was just considering the benefits of having a whiskey with breakfast when someone knocked on his door. As he moved to open it, he assumed it was Dad or Bran, or both come early. As the door swung wide, his body clenched so tight he felt close to shattering.
It was Raven and Rowan. For the barest moment, Patrick thought Rowan was River. That she’d come to him. Christ. What an idiot.
He must have stared overly long because Raven asked, “May we have a moment of your time, Patrick?”
Her voice startled him, jumpstarting his brain. Stepping back, he indicated that they should come in. “Sorry, of course. I didn’t... I didn’t expect you to come see me.” He felt his cheeks heat and sweat start to bead on his forehead. Casually, Patrick turned the air down a few degrees. “Would you like me to order tea?” He offered lamely.
The two women sat at the dining table that was set in front of the glass balcony doors, early morning light sending beams of warmth across the room. Dark shadows and chill would have been more welcome. This was not a casual call. With Rowan’s first question, hedefinitelyknew casual was not on the menu.
“Why did you do it?” Before he could come up with a reply— not that anything had automatically jumped into his head— Rowan continued. “You kissed another woman, had your hands all over her not thirty minutes before you had your tongue downmysister’s throat, confessing your undying love.” She stood then, shaking in her fury. Patrick was physically ill. He was shaking too. Not with fury but shame.
“I... I don’t—” He tried to get out that hehadn’t beenthinking. But Rowan wasn’t having it.
“She’s loved you since the moment she met you. Did you know that? Do you even care? You played with her, Patrick, like one of your easy club girls,” she choked on the last. Whirling to face her sister so Patrick wouldn’t see her tears, he guessed.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. There are no words to describe how crushed I am that I did that to River. Fuck,” he moaned, holding his head. Agony. “To your sister. Christ. I won’t ask for forgiveness because I don’t deserve it.” Patrick walked to the glass doors, looking out at the cool January Dublin morning.
“I would do anything, sacrifice everything, to rewind those minutes.” He turned then to face the sisters. Rowan stood behind Raven, watching him warily. Leaning his back against the cool glass, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting his head fall backward a moment before focusing on the sisters once again.
“The truth is,” his voice faltered. “Damn it, why is this so hard to say?”
“Just be honest, Patrick,” Raven said, watching him with uncomfortable intensity.
“I’ve loved River probably as long as she’s loved me. It just took me months too long to admit. When we talked on the phone or texted... I don’t know how to say... how to... to make you understand that... that it was the best part of my day. River was— is— the best part of every day.
“Friends, I could understand. I told myself that being friends was so much better than dating. Relationships were a joke. You— Raven, and Bran— confirmed being friends was safer. Helen and Dad.” Patrick would never call that woman Mother. Never.
“I remember, I couldn’t have been but a few years old. I was playing with a new monster truck Dad got me around the living room fireplace. I was jumping the truck off it and tripped, cutting my forearm on the sharp ledge,” he absently ran his thumb over the scar. “Dad was at work, and Bran was in school. My Nanny was... I’m not sure, actually. I ran to Helen’s room. I was bleeding and crying because it hurt. She screamed at me to get out before I stained her carpet.
“I remember, too, before she yelled at me that I thought she looked so beautiful. Her white hair reminded me of a fairytale princess. After she told me to get out and find Nanny, I heard her say what a waste of time it’d been to have two.” Patrick clenched his teeth at the memory but forced himself to finish. “She meant two children. It had been a waste to have two children. To have me.”
“Oh, Patrick,” Raven started, her eyes glossy.
“No, Raven, don’t. Don’t feel sorry for me. Helen did mess up some of how I felt about relationships, but it was me and me alone that hurt your sister. I knew I was pushing her away. I’m sure Helen’s rejection is the reason I’ve always run from commitment.” Listening to himself, he couldn’t believe how screwed up he was. “I guess I’m scared of being left. I’m more scared of not being good enough.”
Patrick looked at both women. He was laying it all out. It was a revelation. He felt— relief at admitting his deepest fears. He needed to get through the rest, though. The worst. “That night, at Wolves, I felt cornered, caged. After River and I... after we... we.”
Rowan cut in. “Had sex.”
“No. It was never just sex with River,” he corrected. “After we were together, I had this overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and beg her to marry me. That’s when I freaked out. I hid in the bathroom like a cowardly asshole. I let River think she didn’t matter when she’s theonlything that matters.
“You both know that I avoided her until New Year’s Eve. I watched her all night, thinking of ways I could apologize. I wondered if she would forgive me and, if she did forgive me, what that would mean. You all were dancing with each other. River was smiling and laughing. She was the most beautiful woman there.
“And then the first bad thing happened. Miranda, a wannabe socialite that I’d had sex with once about a year ago, was standing in front of me. I hadn’t noticed her because I was watching River. Miranda put her hands on my chest right as River looked at me. She looked hurt, and I was about to push the woman off me and go to River when she grabbed a random guy’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor with her.
“I was jealous. Furious. That kind of rejection was exactly what I expected from attempting an exclusive relationship. So, when Miranda asked me to go to the garden, I did. Before I stepped outside, I knew I was screwing up. When I sat on the bench, I was thinking I needed to go back inside and find River. I didn’t want to be out there with a woman I didn’t care about.
“All these thoughts were rushing in my head. Miranda was sitting on my lap and kissing me— and Ididkiss her back briefly. Out of habit, not desire. Cheating all the same. I stopped and told her I was in a relationship. That I wouldn’t be hooking up in bars anymore. Miranda was annoyed but didn’t really care either way. Any man would do, so she left to find someone more willing. I was disgusted thinking that I used to be that way.
“I had planned on telling River what I’d done. Itoldher I needed to tell her something. But then, we were dancing, and she was in my arms, and I confessed I loved her. I decided to tell her about what happened with Miranda once we were back in Dublin. I was afraid and wanted a few days of being a real couple. And then the pictures.” Patrick grimaced, recalling the moment River saw them.
“And you know the rest. She’s blocked me from everything. I understand, but how will I ever convince her to give me another chance?”
