Will & Patrick Wake Up Married (8 page)

Patrick stares at him. “What are you saying exactly?”

“Nothing. I’m just being stupid and weak.” Will’s chin wobbles.

God, Patrick has no patience for this kind of thing. Except he does apparently, because he waits for more words to spill out. He’s pretty sure he’d wait even if he wasn’t trapped on this airplane.

“It’s just—” Will begins. “Ryan. You know, I can’t… How can I make this right?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t. I’m also pretty sure he dumped you. So, why does it matter? He’s free; you’re free. Get over it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean, you don’t seem to have real feelings at all. You probably don’t even know what love is.”

Patrick sits back in his seat, keeping his gaze away from the sun glinting on the clouds outside Will’s window. “Did you think saying that would hurt me? You’d be wrong.”

Will leans forward again and presses his forehead into his hands. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you did.”

“No, it’s just—he’ll never love me again. Not after—” Will motions at Patrick.

“Not after I polluted you.”

Will shrugs again like that’s mostly accurate, but then he says, “It’s my fault, though. I let you—”

Patrick snorts. “Let me? You begged me. Listen, Will. I don’t know this guy, but everything you told me last night and now this? Come on, he’s a jerk. Get some self-esteem. You’re worth more. And I test drove the goods. For hours. So I know what I’m talking about.”

“Test drove?” Will’s voice is still wavering. “You bought the car.”

“Exactly. And I’m not an idiot. Usually. But if I bought the car then it was something special. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Someone besides your precious Ryan is gonna wanna take you out for a spin.”

Will doesn’t look comforted by that. “I don’t want to be taken for a spin. I want Ryan back.”

“
In vino veritas
, Will. And last night? You didn’t want Ryan.”

Will presses his hands to his eyes like he can block it all out by force.

Patrick tries again. “I’ve known you less than forty-eight hours, and so far you’ve managed to get a sworn bachelor to marry you and then screw your brains out. In that order, which is unthinkable in this day and age. You’ve talked him into flying across the country with you instead of insisting on an immediate divorce. And now you have him trying to cheer you up. I get the impression you get what you want. If this asshole Ryan means that much to you, I’m sure you’ll get him back too.”

“You really think so?”

Patrick rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “You know, whatever. He’s a piece of crap. If that’s what you like in a guy, maybe you deserve each other.”

“Gee, thanks, Dr. McCloud. Now I feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“Whatever.” He turns his attention to his journal again.

“Maybe I won’t even have to tell him. Maybe we can get this all taken care of before he ever knows. But no. If it’s ever going to work between us, I have to be honest. I have to tell him the truth.”

Patrick doesn’t really care one way or another so he says nothing.

“What was I thinking? I’d been working my steps, staying sober. I’m so tired of relapsing; so tired of starting over. I screwed everything up. Again.”

Patrick remembers his father sitting at the cracked, old wooden table in the kitchen of the apartment he lived in for the first fifteen years of his life. He remembers the rough texture of his dad’s hand as it curled around the back of his neck, still damp from holding a bottle of beer. He shivers against the sick roll in the pit of his stomach.

“Why?” Will whispers to himself.

“You experienced an extreme stressor. Your brain secreted CRH, a hormone which releases corticotropin. Long story short: the chances of an addict relapsing or having a slip go up exponentially in the presence of corticotropin.”

Will clears his throat and looks his way. “In English?”

“You couldn’t help yourself.”

“Do you know a lot about addiction?”

“Some.” He can almost smell his father’s beery vomit spreading over the sofa cushion. “I studied it from the neurobiological point of view, mainly.”

“Are you—I mean, do you have personal experience with alcoholism?”

“I don’t drink often. I prefer to be sober for a lot of reasons, including being on call a lot.”

“Oh.” Will’s eyelashes fan down against his cheeks.

The note of shame in his voice keeps Patrick from saying more. It won’t do any good for him to hear about Patrick’s father. There’s no joy in that tale and there’s nothing good to come from telling it.

“I guess it is my fault we got married,” Will says. “If I wasn’t an alcoholic—”

“Beating yourself up for your disease won’t solve anything. It’s as much my fault as it is yours. The truth is I advocated strongly for our marriage last night.”

“Yeah?” Will turns to him, the sun lighting up his blond stubble and golden lashes.

“Yeah.”

Will smiles. He’s damn gorgeous in that moment—tears, blotchy skin, and all. Patrick forces his attention back to his journal. He can’t process a single word.
 

Chapter Four
 

“Swanky,” Patrick notes.

Will glances around the Tallgrass Hotel lobby. There’s a tasteful Christmas tree in the corner next to a baby grand piano and lots of greenery lining the oak doorways. The Meadowlands restaurant is off to the right and features one of the best menus in town. The bar is to the left, and Will hopes he forgets it’s even there. Down the hallway are the elevators that go up to the four floors of rooms and down to the basement exercise facility and indoor swimming pool.

Everything is top-notch. It’s new after all, recently built to lure doctors and travel nurses to staff the expansion of Healing Regional. The success of the hospital depends on it. The town has plenty of old motels, some of them nicer than others, but they needed a long-term facility with an air of class to make things easier on medical staff who might decide the balmy beaches of South Florida are a better fit than the freezing cold plains of Healing.

“I suppose it is,” Will agrees.

“Why are we here anyway? Don’t you have your own place?”

“I can’t go back there. Can we talk about it later?” He’s exhausted and really doesn’t want to deal with anything more than getting them checked in right now. Especially not with an audience, even if it is just an audience of one.

Patrick shrugs and wanders over to the piano, inspecting it closely and then running his fingers over the keys lightly. He shudders like he’s cold and returns to the front desk to stand beside Will.

“What time is it, Beth?” The hotel clerk on duty is a young, blond woman Will’s known forever. He used to babysit her younger siblings sometimes when he was in high school.

“Almost nine.” Beth gives him a significant look and adds, “Congratulations on your marriage. It’s certainly a surprise!”

“You can say that again,” Will mutters.

“I mean, a Vegas wedding. To someone who isn’t Ryan. Wow.”

Will nods. It’s Healing. Everyone knows everyone’s business, and when he’d called to book the room, he’d made sure to do it as a couple, just in case the Molinaros are looking in on him. He needs to keep up appearances, but it’s still embarrassing that Beth, and soon everyone else, will find out about Patrick.

She leans forward, blond hair falling in her face. “Does Ryan know?”

“No.”

He will soon.

This gossip will spread like wildfire. Will’s got to tell his family first thing in the morning before they find out from anyone else. As for Ryan, well, what can he say to him? He doesn’t even know if he can look at him right now. What he wants most is for Ryan to take him into his arms, hold him close, and tell him everything will be all right. But Ryan hasn’t done something like that in a long time, and he sure as hell won’t do that now.

Beth doesn’t seem too worried about the fact that Will’s married a stranger and brought him home, or that it’s over between him and Ryan. “Was it love at first sight?” she asks.

“No,” Will answers just as Patrick leans against the counter and says, “Yes.”

“Did you know each other
at all
?”

Will rubs his face. “Listen, Beth, I’m sorry, but we’re really tired.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry. You should hit the sack.” She winks at him and then smiles brightly again. “But surely after your husband, uh…I didn’t catch his name?”

“Patrick.”

Patrick stops rifling through the small bowl of red and white striped peppermints. “You can call me Dr. McCloud. I reserve Patrick for friends.”

Will sighs.

Beth is obviously perplexed, but, after a pause, she grins again. “Sure. Of course, Dr. McCloud.” A sappy romantic bloom returns to her cheeks as she rattles on. “Falling in love in Vegas? It’s like a story. Or a movie. Or a made-for-TV miniseries.”

“More like an Adam Sandler film,” Patrick interjects.

Beth finishes entering Will’s information into the computer and hands back his credit card. “You have to tell me everything soon, okay? How you met! What you were wearing! What he was wearing too! What you thought when you first saw each other!”

“Sure,” Will says.
Shoot me now.

“What we were
wearing
?” Patrick scrunches up his face.

“Elopement is so dreamy. And kinda hot.”

“So’s the sex.” Patrick wraps his arm around Will’s shoulders. “How much longer, Will, honey? I’d like to get back to that, actually.”

Beth eyes go wide and bright, like Patrick just gave her the world on a platter. She gives Will the plastic keys to their room. “I’ve signed you up for the honeymoon breakfast. It’ll be delivered to your door at eight-thirty, unless you put out the Do Not Disturb sign.” She winks and then giggles. “In that case, they’ll bring it up whenever you want. Chocolate sauce for strawberries, heart-shaped muffins, and wonderful warm rolls with a custard filling.” She holds up her bare left hand. “Not that I’ve been lucky enough to eat it myself. I’m trying to talk Cody Elk Eagle into buying me a ring, though.”

“You’re still young,” Will says. “Don’t rush it.”

She breaks into a gale of laughter. “You’re one to talk!”

The reminder of his new ring makes Will touch it with his thumb, spinning it, a surge of weird emotions coursing through him. He’d always thought it’d be Ryan’s ring residing there.

“Chocolate sauce?” Patrick asks. “I can think of other things to dip in that.”

Beth blushes as red as the Christmas bows lining the edge of the front desk.

“
Patrick
,” Will grits out. He elbows him and turns on his heel, leading the way.

Patrick’s thankfully silent on the ride up in the elevator, but as soon as they walk into the room, he starts up again.

“You sprang for a suite.” He looks around at the large, fluffy bed, and the sofa and chairs surrounding a low coffee table across from a massive TV. “Is there a Jacuzzi tub? Are the sheets silk? Shall we pop open some fizzy water for a toast before we christen the room?”

“What’s your problem?” Will asks, swinging around to glare at Patrick. He doesn’t understand why Patrick’s being such a dick now. On the plane, he’d been sweet. Or as close to sweet as Patrick apparently gets without being drunk. “I’m exhausted. I’m in pain. My ass is
still
sore from last night and I just rode two hours on a plane. I’m married to
you
of all people. To say I’m on the brink of
losing it
isn’t that far off. I’ve had a
very
bad day. So back off.”

Patrick taps his fingers against his pant leg, but he says nothing for a few moments. When he does speak, it’s in a softer voice. “Fair enough.” After another few seconds of silence, he goes on. “Do you want to tell me why we’re staying in a hotel instead of going back to your place?”

Will’s trembling with exhaustion and the flash of anger. He sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and presses his face into his hands, taking some deep, focusing breaths. “Because I lived with Ryan, okay? I have off and on since he moved with me to Healing after we graduated from college.”

“Before you left for Vegas, you were ‘on,’ I take it.”

“I’d been living there again for a few months.”

“I see. Where do you live when you’re ‘off’?”

“With my mom.”

“I guess you can’t show up at your mommy’s place with a surprise husband.”

“Not this late at night, no. It’d be too much to explain, especially with my little sisters and brother around. But I guess I can’t keep this from her either. Not if this is going to work.” He swallows thickly. “Patrick, everyone’s going to know.”

“Yep.”