I smirked and reached over, patting his knee. We were sitting on the poor excuse for his couch, which from what I could tell tripled as his dining room and sometimes bed too. A true bachelor pad. Most people didn't keep a pillow for a couch cushion at least. "I understand, though. But it can't happen again."
"I know. Tabby, my life's an open book to you now. I promise, no more secrets. I'm not saying something might not come up and bite me in the ass, I have a lot of crap in my past, but I promise, no more hiding anything."
Later, we formed our plan. Part of it was to move in together. It sounded weird, sharing a house but not a bed, considering we were engaged.
Mark and Sophie hadn't blinked when I told them, however. Instead, they merely shifted their office into their bedroom, leaving Patrick with a small but adequate place to sleep temporarily. I could’ve just stayed at Patrick’s place until we found our own, but I think we both silently agreed that Zion was leaps and bounds better. “Hey, it's bigger than my living room already," he said when Mark showed him the empty space. "I'm just glad you didn't stick me in the bell tower."
"Can't yet," Mark replied. "Don't trust you with the automatic weapons yet."
Patrick looked sideways at Mark, then just shook his head. It was the sort of thing you got used to around here. Instead, he merely used the paycheck that he wasn't spending from the city to buy a simple twin sized mattress and set it up on the floor. It wasn't much, but it sent the right message. He was willing to wait a long time if need be, but he didn't want to wait forever to be invited to my bed again.
The whirlwind nature, at least to the public, of me and Patrick was probably the biggest side effect we hadn't counted on. I knew I'd gotten in the newspaper a few times. Sure, there were the occasional comments, but I mean, I wasn't a celebrity or anything. I didn't go to red carpet events, I didn't try to get on TV or anything like that.
Still, somehow Patrick and I ended up on the front page of the society page and the local politics page more than once over the ensuing months. When we went to a Spartans home game again, there we were, in full color. When Mayor Joe had a fundraising event for one of his favorite charities, Patrick and I had attended not to gain attention, but because I actually liked Joe and his cause was worthwhile. The pledge was because I agreed with him. Yet somehow, it ended up getting more press than Joe's actual speech.
One morning, as the first light snows swirled around the trees that lined the driveway up to Mount Zion, I got in my car to drive to work, and Patrick tapped on my window. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to remind you I'm going to be late tonight," Patrick replied. "Council meeting. I probably won't be home until ten at least."
"I remember. I'll miss having you for dinner," I said. Patrick smiled, and leaned into the car, kissing me quickly. Now, you'd think that two people who had said they weren't going to have sex wouldn't be affectionate at all. Instead, we were more affectionate than ever. We kissed almost constantly, to the point that Sophie had instituted a rule with me that when Patrick and I used the gym at the same time, I had to remain on the other side of the room from him at all times.
After our kiss ended, I smiled up at him. "I look forward to dessert," I told him, rolling up the window and putting my car into gear.
I knew I was distracted as I drove into the city, but when the police flashing lights came on behind me, I was absolutely shocked. I'd never gotten a ticket, and a quick check of my speedometer told me that I was still two miles under the limit. Pulling over, I turned off my engine and waited for the officer.
The guy who came up was your typical police officer, white, clean cut if a bit militaristic in his grooming, and carrying about fifteen to twenty extra pounds under his body armor. "Good morning officer, how can I help you?"
"License, registration and proof of insurance please," the cop stonily replied.
"Of course," I said, "it's in my purse, is that okay?" I was worried he was going to think I had a gun in there or something, even though it was a small purse.
He nodded, and I took out my license and car insurance card. The registration was in a little document holder clipped to my sun shade, so I got that out too. "Here you are."
He leaned in, and sniffed the air. "Ma'am, I'm detecting the smell of alcohol in your vehicle. Have you been drinking?"
So it was going to be like that then. "No, officer. It's not even nine in the morning. I'll be happy to take a breath test if you like."