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“Enough questions. Drink up.” He tapped the apple juice on the counter. “The nurse told me we’re not leaving until this is all gone.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I muttered.
“Are you trying to tell me something, Christina? Because if it pushes the right buttons to call me Daddy, I’ll go there.”
“Don’t frighten me.” I took a sip of apple juice. Then I stretched out my arm and tipped the plastic jug over the sink.
A hand clamped my wrist before I could spill it out. “No.”
“This is way too much. I’m switching to water.”
“Drink your yummy apple juice.”
“I don’t want my yummy apple juice.”
Patrick leaned back. A smile played over his lips. “You’re a whiner.”
“I’m really not.” I drank some juice. “Believe me, when I was a kid, my parents cured me of that pretty fast. You know that thing parents do where they talk about you like you’re not in the room?” My voice dropped to imitate my dad’s booming baritone. “‘Is Christina saying something, Carla? I’m not sure.’” I went higher-pitched to match my mom’s voice. “‘If she is, Michael, then I can’t understand her.’” Patrick looked at me blankly. “Okay, I guess you don’t.” He shook his head, mute. “And of course they always talked about how Alexis had such a sunny attitude. Who’re Nick and Eddie? Your little brothers?”
He cracked his knuckles. Reluctantly, he nodded.
According to Jess Janicek, Nick was about to graduate from high school. He’d be the older boy in the photo, the cocky one with a curled lip and afuck-youexpression. Eddie would be the slender, shy younger one who was hanging onto Patrick.
Something was wrong in Patrick’s family, and it ran deeper than the pressure my parents put on me.
I wondered about the phone call that had interrupted us last night and caused him to drive off into the darkness.
“And who’s Jess?” I asked quickly.
“You met her. You saw for yourself. What the hell was that about being a big fan of her articles?”
I flushed and bit off a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. “Just making nice. Everyone needs a groupie.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t want a cute girl who thinks the sun rises and sets on your ass? I thought that’s what you’re…” I lowered my voice, though it was already raspy. “Paying me for.”
Setting my empty plate on the counter, I looked around for the tissues. Patrick handed me a box, his expression cool again. I stared into his frosty eyes.
“I meant, who is Jess to you? She knew you.”
He twisted a lock of my hair around his finger and gave it a tug. As crappy as I felt, the sensation rolled through my body. “She used to know me.”
“She seemed really sweet.”
“She is. She’s a very nice girl.”
“When did you stop being into nice?” Silence. “She’s your ex, isn’t she? I can tell these things.” Patrick regarded me, then turned his attention to my hair, threading his fingers through the waves. I bent my head to let him untie the red bow. The ribbon dropped in my lap. “What happened in Rome?” Dammit, his silence was going to drive me over the edge. I leaned forward, my sandwich finished, and grasped his knees. My hair fell around my face. “Did a switch flip while you were there? Or did you always secretly want things ‘your way?’ Did you and Jess make the sweetest, cutest, tenderest love while you fantasized about pushing her face in the mattress and making her cry?”
Patrick’s blue eyes turned molten. I’d hit a nerve. He wrapped my hair around his hand and squeezed. It felt good. Too good.
“What was that the nurse said about saving your strength?”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
“She said to keep an eye on you. I think you should give it a rest.” His voice was soft, but it definitely wasn’t gentle like it had been with Jess.
“Make me.”
