Seamless

by Griffin, R. L.

  They’d been at the house for two days, side-stepping anything related to Jamie and what happened. Stella had been throwing up constantly and Patrick was afraid to press her. She’d actually gotten in the water while Patrick was gone buying food—whatever the air temperature, the water was fucking freezing, even colder than she expected, and she had to pull Patrick’s hoodie on over her bathing suit and sit under a blanket until she’d warmed up.

  Stella plodded back to the house and sat on the kitchen counter, watching as Patrick pulled food out of bags and set them out for her inspection. Her stomach had been in knots since Jamie; she’d hardly eaten anything. Patrick left an hour ago to get takeout and came back with chicken fingers and fries from one restaurant, pizza from another, and a salad from a third.

  “Patrick,” she said, kicking him with her bare foot, “you didn’t have to stop at three different places.”

  Cooper sat at Stella’s feet waiting for a bite of whatever they didn’t eat.

  “I just didn’t know what you wanted.” He shrugged and pulled paper plates out.

  “So I got a text from Millie,” Stella said hesitantly. “I thought things were going so well with you guys. I definitely didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Yeah, me either.” Patrick stuffed a fry in his mouth. “She was right, though. She can do better.”

  “Patrick,” Stella put her hand on her best friend’s shoulder, “you are better. Why would you think she could do better than you?” Stella turned her nose up at the salad and pizza, opting for the fries, which she poured onto her plate. “Mmm…these are good. Thanks.”

  Patrick pulled out his iPad to check his emails, then turned on music. “What did the message from Millie say?” he asked, not looking at Stella.

  “That she moved out.” Stella popped another fry in her mouth, then threw one at Cooper, who caught it with ease. “What’s going on?” She examined Patrick’s smooth features, his eyes betraying his cool façade. Stella knew he was hurting. “I know you’re so used to protecting me, but let me help,” she cajoled, “please.”

  Patrick shook his head, put a piece of pizza on his plate, and walked over to the couch, turning on the TV. Stella looked at him, then his iPad, still playing music, and eased down from the counter. Her head was still killing her. She didn’t know which was worse, her head or her stomach.

  Stella tried a different tactic with Patrick as she walked over to the couch. “I spoke with Harris today and said I just needed to clear my head and not be hounded by the media. I told him where I was and he could call my cell instead of Greg. He gave me a week to come back for our follow-up interview.”

  “Fuck him,” Patrick said in between bites of pizza, not looking at her.

  “Patrick, talk to me,” she pleaded gently, wanting him to talk to her about Millie. She knew he loved her. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I just want to help.”

  Patrick shook his head and looked at her, her black bikini mostly covered by his unzipped hoodie, her hair, messy and wavy from the salt air, grazing her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot and she hadn’t put on any makeup since Friday morning.

  Stella shrugged, giving up her attempt at conversation, and walked back to her plate of fries in the kitchen. “Did you get me—”

  Stella didn’t get a chance to finish her question because Patrick was behind her, his body pushing her into the counter, his arms pinning her on either side. Stella gasped in surprise at his sudden touch. Shock coursed through her body. She tried to turn around, but Patrick wouldn’t let her.

  He leaned down and kissed her neck. Stella, stunned, tried even harder to look at him. “Patrick?” Her voice was full of trepidation. What the fuck was he doing?

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear.

  Stella squirmed and tried to turn to face him, but he held her tight against the counter.

  “I can’t look at you when I say this, El. Please let me say this.”

  Stella stilled at the urgency in his voice.

  “Millie left me because she knew I was in love with you, El,” Patrick admitted.

  Stella closed her eyes. No. No. No. “Don’t.”

  “You know she’s right.” His lips grazed her ear and Stella’s body felt electric from his touch.

  No. Fuck no. A buzz traveled through her and settled in between her legs. What’s wrong with me? I love George. This was Patrick, her Patrick. He was like her brother. Not…

  “El, I’ve loved you for a long time and I’m just going to lay it out here,” he said, his voice hoarse and full of emotion. “If you don’t love me back, its fine. I just need to taste you once, kiss you once, make love to you once…”

  She froze. Stella couldn’t believe she was hearing this from Patrick, her best friend. “But you’re my best friend,” she barely whispered. He was all she had left; she couldn’t lose him too. “My person.”

  His lips were at her ear again. “I’ll always be your person. I’ll always be your best friend. Always, El.” He sighed, his breath like silk on her hair. “I’ve been patient. I’ve waited for you. I’ve loved you while you loved George. Watching you not be with me has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  Stella couldn’t speak with his lips so close. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t see his eyes, didn’t know how to respond. “Pa—” she started.

  “I’ll always be your person. You believe that, don’t you?” He was so close. He felt like comfort, like the calm she needed. He felt like home and she hated herself for it.

  She nodded; she did believe him. In less than a second, Patrick had flipped her around and lifted her up on the counter, holding her legs around his waist. He used his right hand to pull her hair back, forcing her to expose her neck to him. She gasped again; she couldn’t wrap her brain around what was happening.

  Patrick ran his tongue from her collarbone to her earlobe and Stella’s legs fell open around him, letting him get closer to her.

  No. I can’t do this. “No. Patrick,” she gasped, “we can’t.”

  His lips crushed against hers, silencing her protests. The second time his lips met hers he stared into her eyes. He separated himself from her and pulled his hoodie down her arms to puddle behind her. “I promise I’ll always be your best friend, El. I promise.” He crashed his mouth into hers again and released the ties on her bikini top at the same time. Her top fell away, revealing her hard nipples, and he used the pad of his tongue on both of them.

  Stella was having difficulty breathing, thinking. Her body was betraying her mind; she loved George. George.

  Patrick separated himself from her for a breath and took her bikini bottoms off, leaving Stella completely bared to him. He got down on his knees and all thoughts left her head.

  Stella woke up with thoughts of the night before, of Patrick carrying her to the stairs without separating his mouth from hers. Their bodies tangled with each other all night and she was exhausted. Nausea woke her up, though, and she stumbled to the bathroom to throw up. Lowering her face to the faucet, she took a big drink of water and splashed some on her face as well. The evidence of their night was crumpled in the trashcan. She was shocked that Patrick had even had condoms.

  Stella examined herself in the mirror, taking stock of herself, and saw what she always knew—she wasn’t good enough for George.

  She’d had sex with her best friend when she loved George.

  She’d had sex with her best friend’s ex-boyfriend.

  Emotions crept up her body like spiders and made her close her eyes. Millie loved Patrick and Stella loved George, right? What have we done?

  When she opened her eyes, Patrick was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “You look like your dog just died.” He cocked his head and smiled. “That does nothing for my ego, El.”

  “What’re we doing?” Stella turned to look at him in all his beautiful naked glory; sleek, sinewy muscles etched in his chest and abs, skin tight and silken. His steely blue eyes pierced her.

  “I
’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m doing what I always do, loving and protecting you. Now come on, let’s go back to bed.”

  When she hesitated, he came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her body so she knew what he wanted. He stared into her eyes in the mirror until she smiled weakly at him. He picked her up and carried her back to bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Not How I Thought

  Everything hurt—her stomach, her brain, and especially her heart. Stella hadn’t made her mind up as to what she was doing yet, but she’d been clinging to Patrick like she was standing on the edge of a cliff and one motion could send her tumbling down. She finally allowed herself to really think about what’d happened to Jamie and wondered if she’d come back from this. Dunking herself in the freezing ocean helped her make her feel things other than pain. Patrick was making her feel things other than pain.

  She felt like she’d been fighting for years and she was exhausted. She didn’t know if she could make it another round. Stella used up her last bit of fight trying to get the FBI to arrest Jamie; she didn’t know if she could face another bout of media attention plus criminal investigations and keep her shit together at the same time. She wondered what the end felt like—is this what the end feels like? Is this it? It was humbling knowing this might be it even though she wasn’t sure she wanted this to be the end. Every muscle in her body felt depleted, especially her heart.

  Patrick sat next to her on the beach, staring out at the water as Cooper chased the seagulls, who taunted him by diving down at him and then flying up before he could reach them. Stella would usually smile at Cooper when he played with the gulls, but she didn’t know if she would ever smile again. Her emotions were all over the place; she was devastated from losing George and Jamie and possibly Patrick. She’d made him tell her they were okay over and over again, until she started to believe it. Patrick was her rock; she needed him. Something told her that they were meant to be together, but she wasn’t sure Patrick felt the same. He started this whole thing and he wasn’t fighting the connection, but, on the other hand, it was like he just wanted to get her out of his system. They’d always be friends, so maybe she could just forget about this and chalk it up to an emotional breakdown.

  “So, I guess I really fucked everything up.” She shook her head, looking down at the sand.

  “El, you’ll be okay.” Patrick laid back in the sand, propping himself up on his elbows, and took a sip of his beer.

  “I didn’t know it would be like this…” she started. “He would’ve killed me.” She drew a circle in the sand. The wind blew her hair in her face and the reality of what happened washed over her.

  “Yes, he would’ve,” Patrick confirmed and pushed her hair back.

  “This was the only way,” she repeated, her fingers drawing a line through the circle.

  Patrick took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “You know that it was.”

  Stella squeezed her eyes tight; she could still see red. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” She craved the numbness she had when Jamie “died” the first time. She was raw this time; it was like pouring alcohol on open wounds. She was an open wound.

  “We did what we needed to do to protect you.” Patrick’s sunglasses blocked his eyes so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Jesse’s still on board?” Stella asked, looking back at the water.

  “Oh yeah, we went to a party together in Atlanta. I was all over Twitter and Facebook, partying with him.”

  “Okay, good. I don’t want this on you. If shit goes down, I’ll take the blame.”

  “El. He was forcing you to leave with him; no one will ever believe you were behind this.” Patrick sat up and dragged her to sit in between his legs, facing him. “This was the only way. You know that. You’ve got to handle your shit, El. You can’t fall apart on me. I did this for you.”

  “I know.” Her voice broke off and buried itself in the sand. This was all her fault. Patrick and Jesse had done this for her; they had done this horrible, terrible, evil thing to protect her. She didn’t know if she could live with what they’d done; what she’d done. “Anyone see you at the airport?”

  “No. Jesse had a change of clothes for me in someone’s car he borrowed and your dad drove me to the plane in Atlanta. The car I left at National was still there and no one was the wiser. When I finished, I flew back to Atlanta and your dad was waiting. Jesse’s plane just sat there and waited on me. It’d be awesome to be rich like that.”

  She brushed the sand with her foot. “How did you know he’d take that bait?”

  Patrick rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “Because I would’ve.”

  “Patrick,” Stella blew her bangs out of her eyes, “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” And Jesse. And her father. Good God, her father helped. How will I ever thank them?

  “Sure you can, El.” Patrick took off his sunglasses and looked into her eyes, his cold blue eyes losing their edge, softening as he leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “You have to.”

  “How?” She could never repay him. She’d never forgive herself for dragging him into this. Her insides started to curl and fester. She hung her head and sighed, wiping away the circle she’d drawn in the sand.

  Patrick must’ve been able to see her shutting down. “Don’t,” he said, pulling her hand in his. “Come back with me. Let him go. That’s why we did all this—so you can move on, El.”

  She looked out as the waves crashed and Cooper dove into the surf. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

  “Fuck, El,” Patrick swore, exasperated, throwing her hand down as if it were on fire. “If it’s George you want, go back to George. Just live your fucking life. If you don’t, all of this was for nothing. That, I won’t forgive you for.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Can’t

  Stella was driving back to Old Town after staying one extra night in North Carolina without Patrick. He’d left her at the house yesterday, telling her to come back to him, assuring her that he’d be waiting. He had pulled her into him and whispered in her ear, “You’re my person.” She’d kissed him tenderly; he’d urged her mouth open and what she’d intended to be a soft goodbye kiss turned hotter and full of need. He’d left her panting and stalked off to his car without another word.

  She pulled her phone out and tapped her dad’s number.

  “Dad?”

  “Baby?” His voice was full of concern. “Are you okay?”

  “For now. I’m headed back to DC; I’ve gotta go to the FBI office for additional interviews.” She pulled out onto 95 North and headed toward a big decision. “Dad,” she sighed audibly, “I’m really confused.”

  “About what?”

  “The better question would be what am I not confused about…” She chuckled. “But I was wondering if you can be in love with two people.”

  “I don’t know, Stella. Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “Why?”

  “I was just asking,” she lied. Liar.

  “Did something happen with Patrick?” Her dad read her like a book.

  “Oh, Dad!” she sobbed. “He told me he loved me! During all this shit, he told me he loved me.”

  “Well, I’m not too surprised by that, are you?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, but matter of fact.

  “Yes!” She shook her head. “Completely.”

  “Well, then you’re pretty good at ignoring the obvious.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stella, men don’t do what he did for just any woman…”

  “But he’s my best friend,” she interrupted.

  “That’s a pretty good foundation for love.”

  “Ugh, Dad. You’re confusing me even more.” She pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “After he told me all that, he said that we could still be friends and if I wanted to go back to George, it would be fine. I don’t know what to think about anything. Millie broke up with him and he talked to me honestly for one day, t
hen it was like he pretended it never happened.”

  “Well, I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I do know he may have thought it didn’t matter what he said or did, that you’d go back to George regardless. Is that what you’re planning on doing?”

  “I don’t know, Dad.” She gazed at the lines on the road. “I think I love them both.”

  “Well, I’ll impart this little bit of advice. If you do go back to George, never tell him what happened, Stella. Never. It won’t end well.”

  “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

  She kept telling herself she was making the right decision. Thoughts of the past week reverberated in her head, nonstop. Emotions swirled through her, around her, tangled like a kite’s string in a blistering wind. Patrick assured her he was fine with her going back to George; he basically convinced her to go back to George. Did that mean Patrick didn’t want her? How was she supposed to respond to that?

  The day he left, she and Cooper had stayed on the beach all day, trying to make a decision, to convince herself one way or the other. There was never any doubt in her mind before Patrick had confessed his love to her, but now she had to consider what that meant to her. On one hand, she couldn’t believe they’d actually slept together, but on the other, it wasn’t a huge surprise. Their bodies were naturally in tune with one another. There was no awkwardness it was as if they’d been together for years. She sighed. You only see what you want to see, and for years she’d wanted to see a supportive best friend that was willing to do anything for her. A constant slideshow of the last several years played in her head. George had been there for her and his love never wavered, but Patrick was her person, her solid. He was her rock, the one she always turned to no matter what happened. That was love, too.

  She turned up the radio and hummed along with The Band Perry, letting her mind drift to a fantasy where everything worked out for her. She casually stroked the fur on Cooper’s back as she thought of this dream world where everything was perfect and sunshine, rainbows and unicorns. She wanted unicorns.