CHAPTER EIGHT
Patrick
Later the followingweek, Patrick finally found some time to meet with Dion. They met at a local café after he’d finished work.
Patrick reached for the ceramic sugar bowl from the center of the table and dumped a loaded spoonful into his mug. He sighed with pleasure as he took a tentative sip of the hot, milky drink, appreciating the sweet caffeine.
“You look like you needed that,” Dion said, doctoring his own mug with artificial sweetener.
Patrick couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “You can say that again. It was a late night last night.” He blushed at the memory of all the fooling around he and Simon had done. “In fact, the whole week has been busy.”
“Yeah? Becoming a social butterfly, are you?” Dion joked.
“Not likely.” Patrick snorted. “But I do have news since I saw you last.Reallygood news. Great even.”
Dion looked up from stirring his coffee and tilted his head as he studied Patrick. “It was only a week ago when I saw you last.”
“A lot can happen in a week.” Patrick sipped on his drink. Holy hell, a lot could definitely happen in seven days. He smiled at the thought of the changes in his life in such a short time.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s sure got you in a good mood,” Dion commented.
“The best.” Patrick couldn’t help grinning again. Even in the crowded coffee shop, surrounded by hordes of diners and listening to bad piped music from the eighties, he couldn’t get Simon out of his mind. Dion’s voice brought him back to the present.
“I’ve been in a great mood too. It was fabulous reconnecting last week.” Dion’s wide smile matched Patrick’s as he beamed over the rim of his mug, his dark eyes shining. “And I was so pleased when you called me to catch up again. I was so excited when your name displayed on my screen.”
“Yeah, it was lucky I was even able to call you.” Patrick chuckled. “My cell went missing for a couple of days earlier in the week. You don’t know how hard it is to live without a cell. Everything I need is in that thing—contact phone numbers, my calendar, all my passwords.”
Dion looked surprised. “Wow. That’s awful. You must have been happy to find it.”
“You bet. Turns out it was under the table in the hall. The funny thing was, I thought I’d checked there. Simon and I turned the whole house upside down looking for the damn thing. We spent hours and hours looking in and under everything, including the front hall because that’s usually where I dump my stuff when I first get home.”
“Well, I’m just lucky you got it back and called me. It was great to hear you wanted to plan to get together. I thought maybe you wanted to hang out at your place again. But coffee’s nice too. I’ve been looking forward to catching up for days.” Dion grinned again, reaching across the laminate to give Patrick’s hand a squeeze. His touch lingered a bit too long, and Patrick pulled away at the sudden sense of discomfort. He shook his head, all of a sudden feeling silly. Dion was just a touchy-feely kind of guy.
“Actually, although I did want to see you, that’s not what’s got me in such a good place.”
“No?” Dion’s tilted his head to the side, his tone uncertain.
“Nope.”
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to beg?” Dion wasn’t mirroring Patrick’s happiness any longer, so Patrick decided not to draw it out.
Patrick shook his head again and chuckled. “No begging needed. Simon and I moved in together. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
Something unreadable flashed across Dion’s expression. His features tightened before his expression cleared and he gave a sudden laugh. “Duh. You’ve been living with him since you moved out of our apartment.”
The conversation was suddenly reminiscent of the conversation he’d had with Simon. “Yeah, I guess so, but this was more significant. Much more important than just living under the same roof. We moved into the same bedroom together.”
“Oh.” Dion’s voice was flat. “That’s… great.”
Patrick tilted his head and studied his old roommate. “You don’t sound too sure.”
Dion added more sweetener to his coffee, stirring the drink rather than meeting Patrick’s gaze.
“Dion? What’s wrong?”
When Dion finally looked up, he looked resigned. Perhaps Patrick had imagined that strange expression. “I’m happy for you. I honestly am. It’s just that….”
Patrick reached across the table and stilled Dion’s hand. Dion put down the spoon, and played with the handle of the mug instead. “I guess I’m a bit envious, that’s all. But I am happy for you and Simon. It’s great, really.”
