by Perez, Nina
My mother continued as if my father hadn’t entered the kitchen at all. “I think you should look at Chloe’s decision as an opportunity. She seems like a very smart girl. She knows better than us how prejudiced the world can be. You both have a chance to find love that’s less… complicated.”
My father was pouring himself a cup of coffee and started to say something, but I held up my hand. “What are you talking about, Ma?”
“She understood what I’d been trying to say. An interracial relationship will bring you both more hardship than it’s probably worth. I—”
“When did you talk to Chloe?”
She snapped her mouth shut and pinched her lips together. It was a mannerism Charlotte picked up when she was a kid and didn’t want to have a conversation. “Ma, when did you talk to Chloe?” This conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.
“I went to see her.” She brushed imaginary crumbs from the table before placing her hands in her lap. My father sighed and took a seat at the table.
“When? While I was in L.A.?”
She shifted in her chair. “Months ago. Before you left.”
“Oh, Theresa.” My father put his head into his hands and then looked at me apologetically.
“Why would you do that? What did you say to her?” My head swam with questions.
“Because our family was broken!” My father and I were both startled by her outburst. “I needed to hang on to what was left of it. Charlotte got involved with someone who brought her nothing but trouble, and in the end he cost Charlotte her life. What did we do? Nothing. We sat back and just watched it happen. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I told her it would be best if she let you go. Sent you home.” There were no tears, just a steely resolve I hadn’t seen in my mother in years.
“Ma, Chloe and me… and Charlotte… that’s not the same thing. You weren’t in any danger of losing me to her or to anyone. You had no right to go to her and say any of that.”
“I have every right. I’m your mother.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“And I’m not a child!”
I’d never raised my voice to my mother before. I began to apologize, but my father said, “He’s right. Did we fail Charlotte? Maybe. But she also failed herself.” My mother gasped, but he kept going. “You think I don’t feel guilty? She was my baby girl and I couldn’t protect her. But this family isn’t going to heal by trying to control the children we have left. And I’m not just talking about Patrick. Maggie’s marriage is over. You can’t fix that. She’s an adult and we will support her, but she needs to make her own decisions. Trying so hard to control everything is going to tear this family further apart.”
She didn’t argue, just cried as my father took her hand. I couldn’t believe what she’d done, and I was angry, but I also felt sorry for her. If there’s one thing I learned over the past few months it’s that everyone grieves differently. My mother’s way proved to be destructive, but her heart was in the right place. That’s the only reason I didn’t completely lose it with her at that moment.
I stood up and headed for the door.
“Patrick.” My mother sniffed and wiped the tears streaming down her face. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
***
I’d spent the last few months living in luxury, but stepping into my apartment felt more comforting than anything a five-star hotel offered. It looked very much as it had when I left, like four months hadn’t passed and I’d just come home from a day at the studio. I called for Chloe but didn’t get an answer. Her bedroom door was ajar and I could see that she wasn’t in there. I put my luggage into my bedroom and went back to the living room.
It was warm for early evening so I closed the windows and switched on the air conditioner unit. Then I went to the kitchen in search of something cold to drink while I waited for Chloe to get home. I considered calling her cell, but she had never answered any of my calls before and I had no reason to think that it would be any different now.
Knowing what my mother had done didn’t change that Chloe decided to end our relationship, but we needed to talk about it. I wasn’t sure if hoping it had some influence on her decision was just wishful thinking on my part, but I had to know.
I was in the kitchen, two swigs into a beer, when there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Tucci.
“Hey, hey, Hollywood heartthrob.”
“Hi, Mr. Tucci.” I tried to keep the frustration off my face. Mr. Tucci was a nice guy and it wasn’t his fault that I was a walking ball of nerves at the thought of seeing Chloe again.
“I thought I heard someone come in. I was hoping to leave this with Chloe, but your copy is in here too so even better.”
He handed me a manila envelope. “What is it?”
“Your new leases. I told Chloe you guys could each go month-to-month until you were ready to renew for a full year, or not.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Do you, uh, know if you’re going to be renewing for a full year?”
I’d fully intended to before I left. Now it depended on how things went when Chloe got home. “Uh, sure. I believe so. This is really cool of you though,” I said, holding the envelope. “We’ll get these back to you as soon as possible. Do you know where Chloe is, by any chance?”
“Sure don’t. Hey, also, when is your character coming back from that deserted island?”
I smirked. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Shining Moments, Mr. Tucci.”
“Well, uh, I figured you being a tenant and all, it was the least I could do.” He suddenly looked in a hurry to leave, which was fine with me.
“I can’t say too much, but I can tell you I’ll be back on the show by the end of the year. Thanks again for dropping this off.” I closed the door before he could say anything else.
Unpacking seemed fruitless since I’d be flying out early in the morning. My mind was playing out the possible scenarios upon seeing Chloe again. I decided I’d have another drink and was on my way to the kitchen when I heard the door unlock. As I approached the entryway, Chloe entered the apartment with another man.
Chapter Seven
Reunited
Chloe
The moment was shocking, awkward and, for some reason, extremely hilarious. I thought I was seeing things: Wishful thinking. Wine delusions. Anything but the fact that Patrick was truly home and standing in our living room.
“I didn’t know you were—”
“Home? Yes, I’m home. Been here for a few days at my parents’. I go back tomorrow.”
I nodded in the absence of having anything to say. We hadn’t taken our eyes off of each other. Michael cleared his throat. I’d forgotten he was even there.
“Oh, Michael. This is Patrick, my roommate. He’s in been in Los Angeles filming a movie. He’s an actor.” I was babbling and knew it.
Michael extended a hand for Patrick to shake. For a brief moment I thought he was going to ignore him, but he finally reached out and shook Michael’s hands, his eyes on mine the entire time. Then he looked at Michael.
“And you are?”
“Michael’s a friend of the family,” I said much too quickly. “We’re working together to help Crystal make changes to the restaurant. She runs it now.”
“Did… is everything okay with Uncle Troy?” Patrick pulled his gaze away from Michael, worry on his face.
“Yes. He’s fine. He’s retired now. If something had happened I would have called you.” I was sure no one missed the hurt in my voice.
“Would you?” Our eyes locked once again.
“Michael, thanks for seeing me home. I feel much better now.” It was true. I had sobered right the hell up the moment I saw Patrick. It was better than any nap or cup of coffee could have done. “Patrick and I have some things to discuss.”
Michael searched my face. “Is everything okay?”
I wasn’t looking at Patrick, but I heard him blow out a breath. “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll talk to you soon.”<
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For one horrifying second I thought Michael was going to lean in and kiss me. Thankfully he took the squeeze on the arm I gave him and kept it moving. Once he was gone I took a moment before turning to face Patrick.
“Are you sick?”
“What?”
“You said you were feeling better.”
“Oh, I had too much to drink before going out. I haven’t eaten.” I glanced at the coffee table where the near empty wine bottle sat, mocking me.
“Do you want to go grab something?”
“No. I’ll be okay.”
My stomach chose that exact moment to make a liar out of me. Patrick smiled that cocky half smile that I loved so much and said, “I’ll make you something.” I watched him walk to the kitchen. He seemed leaner, more fit, and slightly tanned. He looked amazing.
“When was the last time you went grocery shopping?” He called from the kitchen.
“I’ve been busy,” I called out in response.
“With Michael?”
I decided to ignore that and went to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and dried it with a towel. I checked my breath. It smelled like a liquor store, so I brushed my teeth. Twice. I thought about changing out of my dress, but that would have been pushing it. Everything about the situation reminded me of when we first kissed and things were weird—except now, so much more than a kiss had passed between us.
By the time I summoned the courage to enter the kitchen, Patrick had prepared a grilled cheese sandwich and a simple salad of lettuce and tomato. He shrugged. “This was the best I could do with what we have.”
He’d said we. Like the things in the apartment still belonged to us both. “Thanks,” I said and sat down to eat. Despite the fact that brushing my teeth gave the food an odd taste, I managed to eat a few bites of the sandwich and forkfuls of the salad. I knew we had a lot to talk about and I wanted to make sure I was up for it. I took a bottle of water from the fridge and took a sip before diving in.
“So, why did you come here?”
He looked offended. “Because I live here.”
“You do, but I meant… you’ve been in New York for a few days and you leave tomorrow. Why come here now?”
“My mother told me what she did, coming here and telling you to break up with me. I’m sorry she did that to you.”
I hadn’t expected his mother to ever admit what she’d done. It took me a few seconds to recover from the news. “It’s not your place to apologize. And honestly, she doesn’t owe me an apology either. She’d just lost her daughter. She was doing what she thought was best.” My mother’s words had an effect after all. I still didn’t like what she’d done, but I now understood why Theresa Murphy had done it. “Sometimes doing the wrong thing feels like it’s for the best… at the time.”
“Does that go for you breaking us up as well?” There was anger in his voice. I could feel it more than hear it.
I stood up and put my plate on the counter. “It wasn’t just me who broke us up. Do you really still think it was okay to lie about us? You can’t see where I might have a problem with that?”
He approached me at the counter and stood way too close. I was once again taken back to our first kiss and was just as aroused and nervous as I was then. The way he stared at my lips as he spoke told me he felt it, too.
“Chloe, I am sorry about that. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I don’t blame you for being upset. Not one bit. But make no mistake: You broke us up. And while I was gone, you wouldn’t take my calls or return my texts. You made it impossible for us to work through it. How was that for the best?”
“It felt like the right thing to do. Things had moved too fast. Obviously you felt it too, or else you wouldn’t have been so willing to just move on so quickly.” I walked out of the kitchen and headed for the living room. Maybe I wasn’t up for this after all. It was easy to stand by my decision and hurt feelings, even when I doubted them, when I didn’t have to look into those hazel eyes.
“You’re talking about Kelly,” Patrick said, entering the living room behind me.
“Thanks for not pretending like you didn’t know what I was talking about.” I turned to face him and waited for an explanation.
“You know what? I’m not doing this with you all night.” He was across the room in three quick strides. He reached out to touch me, but seemed to think better of it. Instead he kept his hands at his side, flexing his hands open and closed. “I told you before, there is nothing between me and Kelly. There hasn’t been for a very long time. I have not even looked at another woman since I met you. You think I haven’t had opportunities? You don’t know what it’s like out there, on set. I could have been with several someone elses and you’d have never known, even after you dumped me. But all I’ve been able to think about is you. Do you know how I felt when you walked in here with that guy?”
The lump in my throat kept me from doing anything more than shaking my head.
“I was torn between ripping his head off and crying.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’m a grown man and I felt like crying seeing you with someone else. The look on his face... The thought of him touching you—”
I found my voice. “It’s not like that.”
“Then how is it?” His eyes traveled from my eyes to my mouth, and even lower. “Is it like this?” He put his hands on my hips and pulled me close. I felt his erection and it made me feel sexy and powerful.
“No,” I whispered.
“How about this?” Both hands moved to caress my back. He dipped his face into the curve of my neck. His breath against my skin made me quiver. Patrick left the softest kiss there before placing several more along my jaw, stopping at my mouth. “Well, is it?”
“No.” I said again.
“Good.” And then he kissed me hungrily. My lips parted and I moaned when his tongue entered my mouth. He tasted sweet. He tasted as I remembered. When we finally stopped to breathe, our eyes met. What I saw in his made my hands shake.
“Let me make love to you, Chloe.” His look made me feel both loved and desired.
I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. He pressed against me from behind as we walked, his hands roaming over the front of my body. Once in my room, I kicked off my sandals and pushed him onto my bed. He was on his back, raised up on his elbows, never taking his eyes off of me. That was just how I wanted it.
I reached down slowly, maintaining eye contact, and gripped the hem of my dress. I took my time pulling it up, revealing my thighs, my stomach, and finally my breasts. I gave a silent thank you to the universe that I’d worn a matching pale blue bra and panty set. I lifted the dress over my head and tossed it aside.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice was thick with desire and my legs went weak in anticipation. I watched as his gaze followed my hands as they worked the front-clasp of the bra. I slowly pulled it away, allowing him a brief look at my breasts before I cupped them with both hands. “Chloe, come here.”
I stepped out of my panties before granting his wish and slowly making my way to the bed. I leaned forward and undid the button of his jeans. He lifted his hips and helped me slide them and his underwear off. He was still at attention, ready for me. I straddled him and watched as he removed his shirt. His chest, like the rest of him, was newly tanned, but other than that it was still chiseled and perfect. I ran my hands down it, letting my fingers trail lightly along his abs.
I raised my body and positioned myself to receive him. As he slid into me, our eyes locked. He took it slow at first and I could feel myself opening to receive him inch by inch. Finding our rhythm again was easy.
“Damn. You’re so warm,” he said, and then kissed his way to my breasts.
I put my hands on the bed on either side of us and arched my back. He took control of my hips with his hands and guided me to meet every thrust. “Patrick, don’t stop.”
When I felt the throb of his release, I wrapped myself aroun
d him, holding him tight with every part of me. Later we lay together, legs entwined, his arms holding me close. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to stay quiet in his arms and forget the last four months had happened. That moment, too, wasn’t meant to last.
“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Patrick asked as he stroked my hair.
I was grateful that he couldn’t see my face and couldn’t see the pain and confusion I felt. I answered as honestly as I could.
“I don’t know.”
***
The next morning I woke alone. Patrick was gone. On the pillow next to me were his signed lease and a note.
Don’t give up on us. – P.