It was a full house in Matt’s office. Shannon, Matt, Riley, and Lauren occupied the seats around the conference table, and the hungry vultures dug in the minute I put the plans down. Patrick nodded toward the small sofa on the other side of Matt’s office, and we sat there while they debated. I listened attentively for comments on my designs, and was pleased with the stray remarks.
Patrick’s knee bumped mine and he whispered, “Your phone.”
Grabbing it from my pocket, I glanced at the unopened text messages. I shot him a confused expression. He nodded toward my phone, his knee rubbing against my leg again. “Why are you texting me?”
“Because you don’t want them to hear what I have to say,” he replied with an irritable wave toward his siblings.
Growing up in a family firm, planning for his career trajectory was far different from someone who wasn’t an heir apparent. It was easy for him to dismiss my issues with making our relationship public. He never needed to defend his choices in interviews, and whether industry people talked about his personal life probably didn’t cross his mind.
My mind skipped ahead to June, and my licensing exams. Once my apprenticeship ended, things would be different—he’d still be running a firm and I’d still be a young architect, but maybe…could we make it work? Would I stay at Walsh Associates? Would they want me to stay? Would they want me to stay because I was with Patrick? Could we stay together if I moved to a competing firm? Were there competing firms that interested me?
Patrick’s knee firmly nudged me out of my thoughts, and he growled, “Andy.”
Questions about the future spiraled through my mind while I tried to focus on the screen of my phone.
18:05 Patrick:those pants make thinking very difficult for me.
18:06 Patrick:I’d very much like to get you out of them.
18:06 Patrick:can we arrange that?
Turning my head, I met Patrick’s smirk and narrowed my eyes in response. There was nothing exciting about my black wool wide-leg trousers.
18:19 Andy:I like these pants. I’m sorry you don’t care for them.
18:20 Patrick:trust me, i like them. so much that I want to take them off and get a better look.
18:20 Andy:at the pants?
18:21 Patrick:no. not even a little.
18:21 Patrick:are you coming to my place? I want to take you to bed.
18:22 Patrick:maybe you could wear those boots. The ones you wore to 21st. and nothing else.
18:23 Patrick:and maybe I could wrap your legs around my neck and lick your sweet pussy for an hour
18:24 Patrick:and maybe then I’d fuck you so hard and for so long that you can’t move a muscle without thinking about me tomorrow
18:25 Patrick:and maybe after you’ve come 16 times, you can suck my cock until I come in your mouth
“Hey.”
Startled and blushing a dark shade of crimson, I fumbled my phone. Patrick caught it before it bounced to the floor, a loosely restrained smirk on his lips. I smiled at Lauren as she dropped into an armchair beside us.
“What’s up, Laur?” Patrick asked. He pressed the phone into my palm, his fingers brushing slowly over my wrist.
“It sounds like aliens might be to blame,” Lauren laughed, looking over her shoulder at Shannon, Matt, and Riley as they argued and gestured wildly at the plans. “Up for a pedicure? Shannon and I usually go for pedis on Thursdays but she’s focused on this. We go to this great place that serves margaritas but I don’t like drinking alone. I mean, I will, but…I’d rather go with friends and not be that lonely drunk lady talking to herself.”
“Yeah, and someone needs to keep your drunk ass from tripping into oncoming traffic,” Matt called over his shoulder.
“Oh would you be quiet?” she said. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”
I laughed. “Margaritas and pedicures?”
“Yeah. It’s been forever since we talked, and I never get to see you when I swing by. I’d love to chat with you again.”
I looked at Patrick expectantly. Claiming to need me working on Wellesley would be believable—and keep me in pocket. Patrick’s eyes flashed with disappointment but he quickly schooled his expression.
