“Okay,” Patterson finally says.
I release him and step back, putting the kitchen island between us. He straightens up, rubbing his neck, breathing hard.
Addison bursts into laughter, and we both heave and turn to glare at her.
She’s doubled over near the couch, shoulders shaking.
“This isn’t funny,” Patterson says.
“You’re right. This is hilarious.” She wipes her eyes. “You thought you’d be macho and got shown.”
Patterson doesn’t laugh. He’s looking at me now, and the anger shifts.
“We’ve been friends for ten years, Louis,” he says.
I don’t say anything.
“You had opportunities to be honest.” He shakes his head and bitterly laughs. “My sister isn’t your fucktoy.”
“Pat—” Addison steps forward.
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”
“No.” Her voice sharpens. “You’ll get to me right now.”
Patterson blinks.
“You want to be pissed? Fine. Be pissed. But don’t stand there acting like he’s the villain when I willingly pursued him.” She moves between us, arms crossed. “I went to Montclaire. I kissed him first. I made every single choice that led to this, so if you’re going to throw punches, at least know who you’re really mad at.”
“Addy—”
“I’m not done.” She steps closer to him. “You’re my brother, and I love you, but you don’t get to decide who I’m with. You don’t get to show up at my apartment and try to beat my boyfriend’s ass because your feelings are hurt.”
“My feelings aren’t hurt. I’m?—”
“You’re hurt. I can see it.” Her voice doesn’t lose its edge. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did. That was wrong. I should have told you myself, and I didn’t because I was preoccupied. Things happened fast and got out of control.” She gestures at the space between them. “But none of that makes violence okay.”
Patterson stares at her.
“You’re my favorite brother,” she continues. “And I need you to be okay with this because I’m not giving him up. Not for the press, not for the palace, and not for you. The only person who can end this is Louis.”
Patterson’s eyes move to me, then back to her.
“You pursued him? Why?” he asks.
“Because I wanted to. Louis was a perfect gentleman until I made it very clear I didn’t want him to be.”
I cough. “I’m standing right here.”
“Shut up,” they say in unison.
Patterson drags a hand down his face. When it drops, he looks exhausted.
“You could’ve told me,” he says, and it’s aimed at me.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Would you have been okay with it?”
“No.”
