I was in no mood to argue with the man, and the grief in Patricio’s eyes guilted me into taking the same flight home with him versus the first flight out in the morning. Patricio still had family in town, back in L.A., and plans in the morning, so he couldn’t wait.
As for me, I needed to be home with people who cared about me. I was pregnant, and as I sat next to Patricio on the plane home, all I could think about was what a mistake I’d made with Max. Or maybe I hadn’t? Seeing Max nearly kill Patricio—probably similar to the first time when they were younger—and then walk away from me like that had shown me a side of him that was uglier than anything I’d ever seen before. Maybe I needed this to happen in order to close the doors on us—on him—once and forever, though that was not what I wanted.
Yeah, but you can’t pretend that that didn’t just happen. And Christ! I was going to have his baby. We’d be linked for life, one way or another.
“You will be okay, Lily.” From the seat next to me, Patricio patted my hand. He looked like hell and had bruises on his neck and face, but his green eyes were happy.
“Are you gloating?” I seethed.
He shrugged.
Eeesh. Men.
“I am not happy to see your heart broken, Lily, but I am happy that you now see the truth. Maxwell Cole is not a good man.”
Funny, Max had said the same thing about Patricio.
“Well, maybe he’s not, but that doesn’t change anything.” My heart hurt so much that it took everything I had not to cry. My mind kept replaying the image of Max walking away from me. “How can a man say he loves you and then just…turn his back like that?”
“I thought you met his mother?” Patricio said.
I waited for him to elaborate.
“She taught him to be exactly like her,” he said. “And he is. You can’t change him.”
I never believed I could. I had believed that he could.
I rubbed my face and tried to let it all go. I mean, Jesus. I was pregnant. And my life was a goddamned mess. I’d have to return to Chicago and go through a trial. A criminal trial.
When we landed, Patricio and I got in my car in silence, I paid the airport bill of nearly seven hundred dollars—ouch—and drove Patricio to his house. It was almost two in the morning, but his home was on the way.
Less than a block from his place, the streets quiet and tinged with an orange glow from the streetlamps, Patricio finally broke the silence.
“Lily, I think you should stay at my place tonight. It is a long drive to your apartment and it’s very late.”
Uh. No. I didn’t want to create any opportunities for mixed signals. “I’ll be fine.” What were two more hours?
“You might be, but what about your baby?”
I blinked for a moment, letting that sink in. Baby. Baby. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But dammit. He was right. I had to start changing the way I lived and ate and slept and…my entire life? I was not prepared for this. Truly I wasn’t.
“You can sleep in the guest room,” he offered.
“What about your family?” I asked.
“They’ve rented a beach house—too many to all stay with me. So you can have a bed all to yourself.”
“Sure. Okay. Thanks, Patricio.”
When we arrived at his house, a very adorable Mediterranean with three bedrooms and a pool, about ten miles east of Santa Monica pier, I felt ready to crash.
He came from his room and handed me an oversized T-shirt.
“Thank you, Patricio. And I’m sorry about everything.” The situation had turned into a dramatic cluster fuck.
He raised his hand to my cheek. “I would go to the ends of the earth for you, Lily. What’s a five-hour flight to Chicago and getting punched a few times?”
I smiled shallowly. “Thank you.”
He grinned, and I noticed him looking at my lips. I felt tired and heartbroken and would love nothing more than to be held, but it would be ridiculous to consider doing anything other than licking my wounds and sorting out my life. I had to send the right signal.
“Good night, Patricio. I’ll say goodbye before I leave in the morning.” I planned to get up, drive home, and…I didn’t know, really. I guess I’d open my shop and…
Sleep. You need sleep. Then you can figure it all out tomorrow.
“Good night.” He went his way, and I went into the bedroom and crashed the moment my head hit the pillow.
The next morning, I awoke to the strange sensation of someone watching me. Slowly, I opened my eyes and found a tiny, plump woman, with dark hair in a braid, staring down at me.
She smiled with a twinkle in her bright green eyes. “Leely!”
I sat up, wanting to ask who she was, but instead said, “Uhhhh…I’m going to throw up.”
I sprang from the bed and dashed the short distance to the bathroom down the hall. I barely made it. There wasn’t much in there, but my stomach didn’t seem to care.
The woman appeared with a cool washcloth and placed it on the back of my neck.
“I help you up,” she said with a thick Italian accent and grabbed my elbow.
Once to my feet, she guided me over to the sink and turned on the water so I could rinse my mouth and wash my face.
“Thank you.”