Chance swallowed, dropping his eyes to the table. Sophia hadn’t needed to raise a fist. The punch to his gut was harder than anything physical she could have thrown.
Those lines had always had particular meaning to them. Because he’d known when he heard the song the first time, then spent the time learning it, he’d known the lyrics would have major significance with them. He’d known even then Patrick would have to figure some things out. Known that, eventually, things would get rough with his family. And Chance would have to have the patience to wait.
I’ll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find
His heart started pounding in his chest. “I—I… fuck, Sophia. What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to him. He’s convinced himself that he has fucked up beyond any chance.”
Chance stared at the fake wood-grain table, swallowing as he tried to hold himself together. He’d fallen apart very few times since it happened, all of which had been in the shower, so he could convince himself he hadn’t. He wasn’t about to do that now.
But his body wanted him to. The pressure in his chest that’d been his constant companion the last few weeks built again. His stomach turned. His breathing turned erratic. He looked up at Sophia, and something in his face must have softened her.
“Aww, darlin’. Don’t you see? You could be happy together again. You really could. He’s lost, so lost. He just wants to be with you, wants to make it better, he just doesn’t think you want to hear from him.”
Chance looked back at the beer bottle and pulled the last bit of label off. “I’ll… I’ll think about it, okay?” He fought his breathing, tried desperately to get himself under control.
“Don’t think too long or you will lose him for good.”
Patrick slid down onto the seat, refusing to look out the window as the cab pulled away. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing, on not letting his emotions out again. He certainly wasn’t interested in letting this stranger see him freak out.
Besides, he was tired of freaking out. It was time for him to accept he wasn’t going to ever have Chance again and find a way to let it go. He needed to bring his son home, needed to start living again.
He knew it wouldn’t be that simple, but he had to do something. He couldn’t keep going like this. Living on the edge of losing it was beyond getting to him. People broke up every day. He needed to figure out how to stop wallowing in the pain and grief.
When they got into Burbank, Patrick gave the cabbie directions to his apartment. He knew what he’d see when they took the last turn onto his street. He stuffed a couple of bills in the small cash slot in the divider, threw a thanks at the front seat, then climbed out to face Rhys.
“Hi,” he said, cheeks turning red.
Rhys leaned against the Z, arms crossed, and considered him for a long moment before stepping up to him. “You look like shit. I give it about ten minutes.”
Patrick scowled. “Fuck that. I’m tired of this shit.”
“Yeah, not tired enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patrick asked.
“Do you even want him back?”
Patrick swallowed, dropping his eyes. “You know I do.”
“If he was willing to talk to you, would you?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Fuck that,” Rhys said, echoing his own words. “Forget should or shouldn’t. Stop fucking making Chance’s choices for him. If he was willing to talk to you, would you?”
Patrick looked up at Rhys, frowning. “Why are you so convinced I’m not total shit for him?”
Rhys sighed. “Let’s go inside.”
Patrick pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door. They didn’t speak until they were in the apartment. Rhys sat on the couch next to Patrick and handed him a beer. Patrick set it down and picked up the picture on the coffee table, running his fingers over Chance’s face.
“I watched you together before you broke up.”
Patrick looked up at Rhys and frowned.
Rhys nodded. “Was kind of hard not to, you know….”
“I’m—”
Rhys held up a hand. “Anyway. One of the reasons I started backing away was that I have never seen anyone more in love in my life than Chance is with you.”
Patrick sighed. “Just because he’s in love with me….” He shrugged helplessly.
“People will do a lot, take a lot, to be with the one they love. Wouldn’t you do the same to be with him? If his family hadn’t accepted him, would you have walked away?”
“Hell no.”
Rhys stared at him without speaking, and Patrick closed his eyes. “God, I’ve been such a fucking asshole.”
“Well, yes. But it’s fixable.”
Patrick opened his eyes again and looked at Rhys. He felt the despair welling up again, and he fought it. “Except that he still doesn’t want me back, Rhys. I’ve hurt him too much.”
Rhys sighed. “Here’s the thing. I think you’re not as positive of that as you think you are. And I think that, one way or the other, you need to talk to him, ask him, to be absolutely sure. If he really does say no, then you do the last of your grieving and move on. If he doesn’t?”
Patrick looked back at the picture in his hand. Was there a chance? Could he, maybe, fix this?
Chance shifted from foot to foot, watching the action on the set, annoyed with himself. He was nervous. More nervous than the first time he’d talked to Patrick on set after they’d spent the evening at Benny’s and Pablo’s. More nervous than picking Patrick and Avery up from the airport when they’d returned from Hawai’i. And more nervous than the first time they’d been together. Worse than all of that put together.
Which was, in a word, preposterous. He had nothing to be nervous about; he told himself that. If Sophia had been right last night—and Chance didn’t doubt her, now that he was thinking a bit more clearly—Patrick wanted to talk to him.
But this was the third time he’d tried to see Patrick that day. Patrick had taken to disappearing between scenes and at meals. And every single break, he had someone with him, either Rhys, Angelo or Sebastian. Sometimes it was Chrissy.
He was never alone.
Chance knew he was going to have to just walk up to Patrick, even with someone else there. But the thought of trying to talk to him was bad enough. The idea of doing it in front of someone else had him wanting to run straight for the hills.
He sighed at himself and watched Patrick give his lines, then step into Rhys arms. He buried the instinctive jealousy and waited, determined to talk to Patrick this time. He never used to have problems approaching Patrick on set. But that was when they were together and he knew without a doubt Patrick wanted to see him. Well, his brain knew Patrick wanted to talk to him. His pounding heart and sweaty palms were telling him something else.
Despite them, when the scene ended, he started forward, but Jack called Patrick over, and Chance growled in frustration. It was probably for the best, anyway, as he was supposed to be getting water for Selia. He turned and headed to the crafty and stopped long enough to open up a bottle for himself. As he stood there drinking it, he started thinking about the times he’d brought Patrick water or granola bars or other things from the crafty.
He stared at Zach for the longest moment. “Oh my God.”
Zach blinked at him. “Some of the talent calls me that in the morning when they get their coffee, but really, I’m not God.”
Chance chuckled. Then gave a short laugh. Then started laughing fully.
“Are you okay?”
Chance grinned. “Better than I’ve been in weeks.”
Patrick trudged into the studio, half-awake. He’d been alone the night before and had spent the better part of it not sleeping. He’d found himself annoyed to no end that he’d gotten used to having Rhys there to talk to when he woke at two in the morning. But he’d convinced Rhys to go home after dinner and spent the night listening to Chance’s CD. It was no
wonder he couldn’t sleep.
He sighed at himself and opened the door to his dressing room. He yawned as he pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the couch. Then he turned to get the costume Thom had left out.
And stopped dead.
He stared for a solid two minutes. Then he rubbed his eyes, convinced he was seeing things. But no, they were quite clear.
So he pinched himself. And winced when it hurt. Okay, not dreaming.
He took a tentative step toward the counter, then another. When he was within arm’s reach, he swallowed as his heart started pounding. It couldn’t be.
But no, there was no mistaking it. Right there, on the counter, sat a cup of coffee, a glazed donut…
…and a small Post-it with the letter C.
Patrick’s heart pounded harder as he reached out, running his fingers over the Post-it. Did he dare to believe it? If it was true, if it was what he thought…. He swallowed as his mother’s face flashed into his mind.
But then Tutu’s words came back, echoed by Sophia. No one can live my life for me. No one gets to live my life but me.
What did he regret more? What did he miss more? What was better for his life?
He didn’t have to think about it, not even a little bit. The answer to those questions flashed into his mind in less than a second, and he knew, right then, it was the right one.
With shaking hands he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed without looking away from the cup and donut.
“What the hell are you doing calling me at this ungodly hour?”
“Did you talk to him?” Patrick asked, ignoring the question.
Apparently, he’d gotten her attention. He heard rustling on the other end of the phone and guessed she was sitting up. He tried not to imagine a naked Tom/Sophia. “Yes, I did.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Why?”
Patrick swallowed and touched the coffee cup. “Because I’m looking at a cup of coffee, a donut, and a Post-it note with the letter C on it. There’s only one person who would do that.”
“Well, I’ll be. It’s about damned time.” Patrick heard her sigh. “I kicked his ass. Figuratively. I can fight in heels, but I prefer not to mess up my dress.”
Patrick chuckled, still not quite able to believe it. “So, uh… how did you do it?”
“Well, I said a lot of things. I’m not sure if it was the threat of punching him, the one about pulling my hair out, or if it was the low blow I dealt him over your song.”
Patrick looked up at himself in the mirror. “My song?”
“Yeah, that sappy one he sang every damn week you were there. The one about not giving up?”
He grinned. “Sophia, you are a fucking genius.”
“Yeah, I know. Now can I get my beauty sleep? Makeup only covers so much.”
Patrick laughed. “In a minute. I need a favor.”
Chapter 30
Patrick stood in the wings, more nervous than he’d ever been before for any performance or audition in his life. Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in his stomach. He couldn’t seem to keep his palms from sweating no matter how much he tried. And if his heart pounded any harder, he was fairly certain they’d have to cart him away in an ambulance.
He took a deep breath as he waited, then pulled out his phone. He hit the little “f” icon and clicked through the menus. He knew, this time, where he was going, and in very short order, he hit the “relationship” link, then made the selection he wanted, hit “done,” then typed in Chance’s name, leaving the “anniversary” for later. He made sure the update would be public, then hit “save.”
“Are you ready?” Sophia asked, coming up behind him.
Patrick took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. Avery’s okay?”
“He’s fine, waiting with Marcy for the moment. She’s trying to fix his little bow tie, but it doesn’t want to stay put. How many people did you call? The house is packed.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “Not that many. And, uh, most of them aren’t even in the audience.” He hurried over to the curtain and peered around. She was right—the place was packed, every table on both the floor and balcony full. “Holy shit.”
“Well, someone knew what was up and told,” Sophia said, peeking over him. “Come on. We need to test your mic.”
Patrick took the headset she handed him and fitted it over his ear, then settled it in place. Sophia threaded the cable under his jacket in the back and attached the transmitter pack onto his belt. “Hmm. You do have a nice ass,” she commented.
Patrick snickered. “Thanks. Though I’m not sure Andy would appreciate you saying so.”
“Honey, I’m committed to Andy. I’m not dead.”
Patrick laughed and fiddled a little more with the headphone while Sophia messed with wires. When it was all connected and he had the earpiece positioned correctly, he spoke. “Test one, two?”
“Test is good,” Selia said over the earpiece.
“Thank you. And Selia?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being here.”
“Thanks for getting your head out of your ass. Maybe my sound tech will be able to do his job now.”
Patrick laughed. “Maybe.”
“Kick ass,” she said.
Patrick chuckled. “Well, I’d prefer not to kick it. I rather like his ass unbruised.”
Selia laughed. “Good answer.”
Patrick turned back to Sophia. She wore subdued black tonight, with matching satin shoes. “You look very nice tonight, but isn’t this a little low key for you?”
Sophia grinned. “I just didn’t want to outshine you.”
He decided a little kissing up to her was owed. “Sophia, you’d outshine anyone if all you wore was a garbage bag.”
She laughed. “I’ll take that kind of ass-kissing anytime, darlin’.”
Patrick grinned. “Hey, uh… thanks for letting me bring people in. Selia, you know, and….” He shrugged. “I know you have your own—”
“Nonsense. This is a big deal. Of course you want your own people around you.” She shook her head. “Come here—your tie is crooked.” He waited patiently while she straightened it, then fussed with the knot and stepped back. “Take a deep breath and relax. You’ve got this.”
“As long as he doesn’t kick me off the stage.” Patrick nodded.
She laughed. “He won’t.”
“Thanks. Again, Sophia.”
She leaned in and left a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re welcome. I love a happy ending. Now, I gotta get back to the baby.”
He wiped his palms on his pants, wondered if he might not have been better using a hand-held mic, then reminded himself he’d need his hands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Chance started the last song of the set out onstage.
The last five days had been a whirlwind of activity. He’d made so many phone calls, his cell phone provider checked with him to make sure his phone hadn’t been stolen. He’d spent so much money on his credit card, he had to verify the activity with his bank. He’d had to organize a small army of help.
Despite all of his friends who had stepped up to help him the last few weeks, he’d been surprised. He’d barely gotten his request out when Angelo and Sebastian agreed. Selia’s only complaint was having to keep the whole thing from Chance, who’d been moping worse than ever since he hadn’t heard anything after his donut gift.
Rhys had truly amazed Patrick. He’d helped Patrick do some shopping, insisting Patrick get a new suit, then proceeded to pick it out and even get it tailored to make sure it fit properly. Patrick had tried to argue that he didn’t need a new Italian suit, but he had to admit, when he stood in front of the mirror at Armani, he’d really liked what he saw. He’d still waffled a bit on it until Rhys reminded him that he was, for better or worse, something of a celebrity now, and it would reflect better on Chance if he looked better. Then Rhys pointed out he’d look good for Chance for the evening, and that’s
what decided it for him. He also made a mental note to drag Chance down, assuming it worked out, and get him fitted too.
Rhys also spent a good deal of time coordinating things with Sophia. He’d even convinced Jack to rearrange the shooting schedule so Patrick could be off that day, since Patrick had ended up needing to drive quite a distance to pick something up that had only been ready that day.
But if everything worked out the way he hoped, it would be so worth it.
He turned away from Chance’s opening chords and paced, trying to get a handle on his nerves.
“I don’t know what you have to be nervous about. The man won’t know what hit him,” Rhys said, stepping out of the shadows.
Patrick glanced up at him and paused. Rhys also wore a suit, looking pretty damned impeccable in it, in fact. If Patrick wasn’t already in love with Chance, he’d be drooling. Patrick shook his head and continued to pace. “Seriously? How many times have you done something like this?”
“None,” Rhys admitted. “Though I did think about it.”
Patrick stopped and raised his eyebrows. Rhys tried to look away, but Patrick put a hand on his friend’s arm. “Um, I’m going to fuck this up, so bear with me.” He took a deep breath. “You have been an amazing friend. I… am still… astounded by everything you’ve done for me over the last weeks. I am sorry. I….” He blew out a breath and looked up into Rhys’s dark eyes. “I don’t know if this’ll be good or make things worse, but… if I hadn’t been in love with Chance… I could have fallen. In love. With you.”
Rhys smiled. “I think I knew that.” When Patrick raised his eyebrows, Rhys nodded. “Yeah. It was the way you answered me after we’d ma… uh, been together that time.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I meant what I said a while back. I’ve put it away. But… that does make me feel good. Chance is a lucky man.”
Patrick swallowed. “I’m sorry that things worked out the way they did. I mean, I wish… I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”
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