Girl Next Door - The Complete Series (21 page)

Apparently Anya knew she’d screwed the pooch royally, because she strolled to the front door, exited, and shut the door behind her with a quiet click. I shook my head, incredibly confused. I wasn’t sure what the hell just happened other than the fact that Anya had shown her true nature as an effing gold digger.

I looked up at Patrick. “That was completely and utterly fucked up.”

He smirked at me. “Yes, it was.”

I tilted my head and continued to look up at him. “Why in the hell did she come here anyway? It’s not like you asked me to marry you.”

“You’re a threat to her plans, Cat. She knew that I wouldn’t let you out of my life any time soon. I just can’t believe I ever thought she was meek and afraid of confrontation. I’m beginning to think I’m a fucking idiot.”

Let me out of his life? As if he could control me. Please. That was going into my Address this Problem Later file. Right now, I wanted to understand how I ended up involved in this mess. This was a Patrick and Anya problem and Cat did not figure anywhere into the equation.

“Whatever, Patrick. We both know you’re not an idiot. Obnoxious maybe, but not stupid. She played you, she played your family, even me, from the moment she met you. I still don’t understand any of this.”

He stared at me for a second. “I guess Anya was smarter than I thought. She could see something you can’t.”

Okay, now I was offended. “Do not compare me to that witch. Besides, you weren’t too bright if you didn’t catch on to her greedy little designs on your bank account the entire two years you were together.”

Amazingly, he laughed at my catty comment. “Good point. Now, we’re done wasting any more time on her. If you still don’t understand why she would warn you off, you will later.” He kissed my forehead. “So, what are you making me for dinner?”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Arsenic chicken and strychnine salad. Oh, and about your bank account, exactly how rich are you? I mean, I’ve been holding back when we go out, but, now that I know you have money, I’m going to order lobster and champagne form now on.”

For a moment, Patrick stared at me blankly, then, he burst out laughing right before he laid a hot and heavy kiss on me. Yeah, he definitely liked my snarky comments.

Almost a week later, just a few days before Aidan and Nat were due home, the freak-out I’d put on hold caught up with me. I really wished Nat wasn’t on her honeymoon. I needed one of our margarita fests, or maybe a mojito fest, to help me figure out all the crazy thoughts in my head. Nat was the only girl I knew who could distill a problem down to the fundamental dilemma. She would wade through all the bullshit, all the excuses, and misconceptions and point out the seed that had caused it all. I guess that’s why she was such a good accountant. The girl didn’t miss a single detail. Sometimes it was frightening.

I didn’t know what to do about Patrick. The man was practically attached to my hip, and I flippin’ loved it. Even all the ex-boyfriends, even my ex-fiance, had never been as much fun. I enjoyed their company, but it hadn’t been the same. After a few hours with them, I was ready for some alone time. I liked my solitude. I liked to read without somebody bugging the crap out of me. The last few days with Patrick had been pretty cool. When we weren’t having sex, well, we were usually sleeping, but the rare occasions we were vertical in a non-sexual way, it was cool. We would watch TV, make dinner, or just do our own thing. I really liked it, probably too much.

I needed Nat’s advice. She’d been there when Jeremy had torn me down to almost nothing. I knew better than to think all men were cut from the same cloth as my ex, but I also didn’t want to ever give a man that much power over me again. He’d cut me off from everyone but Nat, and that was because the stubborn bitch wouldn’t back down from him. Nat would show up and drag me out for girlie stuff, ignoring his pouting and rudeness. Even though I knew he would be ten times worse when I got home, I would go anyway. She was and continued to be my closest friend, practically a sister.

Jeremy never laid a hand on me, but he still managed to break me, with his words and his anger. The worst part was that I let him. Beyond that, I gave everything to him. He would destroy each part of me and I would happily give him another.
That
was what I wanted to avoid. Patrick might never be verbally abusive, but I’d give him everything and he could leave it behind him, crushed to dust. If Nat had been around I could have talked to her about all this. Left to my own devices, I was afraid I’d make decisions with my hormones rather than my brain.

It was my day off, and I’d spent most of it brooding. Thankfully, Patrick was working a big job and had been pulling fourteen hour days. For the last couple of nights, he’d come home, eaten, showered, screwed my brains out, and lapsed into unconsciousness. It gave me time to regroup. It also gave me too much time to think and make bad decisions.

Sometime around four in the afternoon I realized that I was getting in way too deep, way too fast. The current was moving me along so quickly I was about to go under and never come up. I was going to drown. In the throes of my massive nervous breakdown, I decided that Patrick and I were finished. I could feel my will to protect myself draining away when I was with him. I was ready to cut and run. I couldn’t do this. Eventually he would understand why I had to break things off. He had been with Anya, he would get it. I would get to be too much for him to deal with and he would end things. I’d been through this process a few times and I knew what path our future would take.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on pins and needles. To keep busy, I cleaned Nat’s house, since she and Aidan would be home in a few days. Then, I did laundry, went swimming, and tried to read a book on my e-reader. None of it really worked. When I heard Patrick come through the door at nine, I jumped. Holy crap. Okay, I needed to be quick. I was standing in the living room, hands twisted in front of me, waiting for him.

His face grew wary when he spotted me. Patrick stopped in the doorway and leaned against it.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

I swallowed hard. “We need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous.” He smiled, trying to keep things light.

I took a deep breath and decided to get it all out quickly.

“I can’t see you any more, Patrick. I’m not comfortable with how fast things are going.”

He stood and silently stared at me. I could feel his mood getting dark and knew this wasn’t going to go well. Who was I kidding, I knew he wouldn’t take me cutting things off well. Patrick was an easy-going guy on the surface, but, underneath, he was pure alpha male. I was beginning to realize that he was getting invested in our relationship, maybe not as deeply as I was, but he wouldn’t like what I had to say.

Patrick stalked closer and sprawled on the couch. He looked tired and angry, and I really, really wanted to go sit next to him and kiss him. I didn’t do either of those things, though. Patrick was still quiet, and I wasn’t sure what else I could say.

Finally, he spoke. “Fine.”

I stilled. Okay, he didn’t sound happy, but he also didn’t sound heartbroken. He definitely wasn’t reacting like I expected. I figured he’d be angry at first, then I thought he’d just leave. He did neither of those things. Instead, Patrick pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubbed. Then he dropped his hands and stared at me. Shit, he was doing that ESP thing again. I could swear he was seeing every single secret I’d ever had. I fidgeted under the weight of his eyes.

“Before I leave, I want to ask you one thing.”

I nodded. He stood up and came closer. He twirled a piece of my hair around one of his fingers. The gesture was sweet and almost brought tears to my eyes. Shit, shit, shit. I would not cry. He tugged my hair gently before letting it drop.

“Why are you such a fucking coward?”

I flinched. His voice was rough and I could hear the anger he was barely controlling. I wanted to deny it, but I knew he was right. I was a coward, but I wouldn’t risk the alternative.

Instead of speaking, I just bit my lip and kept silent.

“Fuck.” Patrick spat the word out as he spun away from me. His hands tore through his short hair and I had a feeling he was struggling with the urge to throttle me. He turned back to me. Green eyes speared me, pinning me where I was.

“Figures,” he muttered. “I finally get rid of a woman I didn’t really want, find one I want more than any other, and she’s too damn scared to even try.” He laughed, but it contained no humor.

With that he strode to the door, and without a backward glance, he went out and slammed it behind him.

The next morning I woke up in my own bed in my condo. Still half asleep, I rolled over, reaching for a warm, muscular body that wasn’t there. When my hand encountered empty mattress and cold sheets, my eyes flew wide open. I clenched them shut immediately. It was over. Patrick and I were finished, done, kaput.

I sighed and threw back the blankets. It was a work day, and I needed to get going. A superhot shower, half a pot of coffee, and I would be able to face the day. I took my shower, drank my coffee, even ate breakfast. I headed to work and struggled to focus the entire day.

I didn’t necessarily succeed. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d tripped over invisible bumps in the floor, or smacked into the door frame because I didn’t realize how close I was to it. Most of my patients thought it was pretty funny, but several of my coworkers were giving me strange looks. I’d always been clumsy, but never to this extent. By the end of the day, I was exhausted, sore, and, though I hadn’t checked, likely covered in bruises.

I drove myself home and took a long, hot bubble bath. I wasn’t sure if it was the bath that improved my mood or the half a bottle of wine I consumed while soaking in the bubbles. I was too tired to eat, so I sprawled out on my sofa to watch television.

It wasn’t long before my slightly inebriated brain started thinking about Patrick. I remembered the expression on his face last night when I ended things so abruptly. He’d looked at me with a heart-wrenching mix of disappointment, anger, and hurt. I wasn’t sure which bothered me the most, because it made my stomach knot up to think that I’d both disappointed him and caused him pain. I doubted he would understand that it was self-preservation, just like I doubted he’d ever felt so thoroughly quashed as I had after Jeremy broke our engagement. It had taken months for me to recover, and that was mostly because Nat wouldn’t let me wallow. She’d drag me from my house, pale and heavy-eyed, and take me to the movies or shopping. Slowly but surely, I came back. I was patched up and glued back together, but I would never heal completely.

So, deep in my gut, I knew that Patrick’s disappointment and hurt would bother me, but it wasn’t worth what it would cost me to fix it. The end result would be the same. Patrick and I apart, only it would be me who was hurt and likely a lot more deeply than Patrick had been last night.

I ignored the echo of his voice in my head, calling me a coward. I’d made a decision based on experience and thought, not out of blind and abject fear.

I punched a pillow into shape on the sofa and stretched out over it. As I lay on my side, staring unseeingly at the TV, I remembered that Nat and Aidan were coming home in two days. I shoved my face into the pillow and groaned loudly. When that didn’t make me feel better, I pressed my mouth against it and gave a short scream. I would have to go back over to the house. I had planned to clean everything up, put out some flowers and new scented candles, and maybe put a couple of pre-made meals in their fridge. Now, I wanted to avoid the house like the plague. I didn’t want to see Patrick. I couldn’t handle it yet. In a couple of weeks, I’d be ok, but right now, I was not. I punched the pillow again, this time in frustration. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to get involved with him in the first place.

When Aidan and Nat got back, with Patrick living next door, I’d probably see him a lot. Likely every time Nat had a pool party in the summer or game night in the winter. Now I’d have to sit with him at poker night, remembering all the sinful things we’d done, and how much I liked him, almost loved him. I realized I still had my faced pressed into the cushion and that I wasn’t breathing. I pulled my face away and took in a deep breath. I decided that I would go tomorrow, take care of what needed to be done at Nat and Aidan’s as quickly as possible and get back to my condo.