The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (17 page)

Yes, I assured myself, stability and reliability were important. Reid was risky, uncertain, and everything I didn’t need in my life.

Besides, Reid and I were only roomies. Nothing more. I poured myself a cup and silently cursed my ridiculous nature to read way more into a situation than there was. That was my entire problem. I was so busy overthinking everything when I should just let it be. Like Kat would say, I should go with the flow and just enjoy the moment.
 

That’s exactly what I needed. A little reality check from Kat. So, as soon as I got in the car, I turned on my Bluetooth and dialed her number.
 

“Hey, beautiful,” she said when she answered. “To what do I owe this early morning call? You’re lucky I’m already in the office.”

“Where else would you be?” Kat loved her work, which was a good thing because it meant she didn’t mind the crazy hours.
 

“I might have been lounging in the arms of some super-hot guy, after having some equally hot morning sex.”

I tried not to laugh, because she was right, it was just as likely a scenario. “But you’re not,” I said.
 

“Sadly, no.” Her tone changed and she asked, “What’s up? Are you on your way to that boring job?”
 

“It’s not boring. It’s a fabulous job.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my car out of the driveway.

“Right,” she said. “It’s the boyfriend who’s boring.”

I ignored her, and said, “I’m just calling to talk. I woke up this morning and felt like I needed a little more Kat in my life.”

She laughed and I could picture her spinning in her office chair. “You could always use more Kat in your life,” she agreed. “Is everything okay? You sound weird.”

“I feel weird.” There was no point denying it. “It’s just this whole roommate thing.”

“It’s not working? Kick him out,” she said. “Tell Grams he’s a loser or—”

“No, it’s not that. Reid’s great.” I tried to focus on the road as I merged into traffic. “He makes coffee every morning and he’s a fabulous cook and—”

“Hot? Is he hot?”
 

My face burned with the immediate blush which was stupid since she couldn’t see me. But Kat knew me better than anyone. “He’s…well, he’s—”

“Hot,” Kat finished for me. “That much is obvious. So he makes coffee, he cooks meals, and he’s hot. Hmm, seems like a terrible roommate.” I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Seriously, Whit. What’s the problem? If I—that’s it!” She jumped to the conclusion I knew she would, and I didn’t bother denying it when she said, “You like him.”

“Well, yes. He’s a good—”

“No, no. You like him, like him,” Kat said. “That’s it isn’t it?”

I sighed, grateful for the slow-moving traffic. All of a sudden, I wasn’t in a hurry to get to the school. “I’m with William,” I said. I actually cringed as the words passed my lips.

“And that’s the whole problem. Dump him.” Kat solved the problem so matter-of-factly that for a moment it sounded like the right thing to do. Maybe calling Kat wasn’t the best choice.

I didn’t say anything, focusing instead on the road. Kat hadn’t said anything I didn’t already know.
 

“Grams is dying,” I blurted out.
 

There was a choking sound, and a cough and finally Kat said, “What? Oh, Whitney. No.”

Hot tears welled up in my eyes, but when I had finished filling Kat in on Grams’ situation, I could no longer be sure what had caused them in the first place.

Patty -September 1988

Patty

September 1988

Patty lifted the sheet and tried to slide from the bed without waking him, but before she could get even one foot on the floor, Stan’s arm reached out. His hand wrapped around her waist, and pulled her back down to the bed where he cuddled her close.
 

“Don’t go,” he whispered into her hair.
 

His skin was warm against her naked back and when he snuggled close against her, his body fit perfectly around her own. For a moment, Patty was tempted to give in and break her own rule. It wouldn’t hurt to spend one night with him. Besides, it was technically daytime anyway. By the time she’d finished her shift at the Lady and Stan had finished the cash-out, the sun was almost coming up. But despite her aching feet and the exhaustion that flooded her body, when he’d nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobe the way he did, she couldn’t turn him down, and she’d happily gone back to his apartment, where they definitely hadn’t been doing any sleeping.

“You know I have to go,” she said. Patty closed her eyes for a moment, trying to build up enough strength to push back the quilt and leave Stan’s warm bed. Her eyes opened, and before she lost her willpower, she deftly slid out of his embrace. “You know my rules, Stan.” She looked down at the bed where Stan had flipped to his back, his hands interlaced under his head.
 

“I know them,” he said, “but I certainly don’t understand them.” She could feel his eyes on her while she walked around the room, retrieving her clothes. “You can’t tell me Bridgette’s couch is more comfortable than my bed?”
 

“You know it’s not about that.” Patty tugged her tank top overhead, not bothering with her bra. “It’s my rule. I don’t spend the night with anyone.”

Stan sat up, his body propped up by his arms behind him. “You mean there’re others you don’t spend the night with? Not just me?” He was trying to joke, but Patty could tell he was seriously wondering. They’d never discussed if they were in an exclusive relationship or even if it was a relationship they were in. They were just together. It worked. As much as any relationship Patty ever had, it worked.

She tugged on her jeans and turned to look at him. “Stop it. I don’t want to do this now.” Patty turned away and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. Working nights for just over a year, hadn’t been kind to her. Or maybe it was the job. It didn’t matter either way. It’s not like anything would change. Patty ignored her reflection and tugged her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Do what?” Stan was asking. “We’re not doing anything, Patty. That’s the whole problem. We need to move forward, don’t you think? It’s been over a year we’ve been doing this, whatever it is. And that’s why…well…I think you should move in with me.”

Patty froze, her body still, but her mind spinning. He couldn’t have said what she thought he’d said because people didn’t say things like that to her. And not just people, but boys…men. Men didn’t say things like that to her. They left instead. Like Whitney’s dad. Whitney.
 

“Whitney,” Patty said. The name came out barely a whisper and Patty turned again to look at herself in the mirror.
 

It had been over a year since her mom had made good on her threat and had kicked Patty out. She still saw Whitney, not as much as she should, she knew that, but enough.
 

“This isn’t about your baby.” His voice shocked her out of her thoughts and Patty spun around to see Stan standing only inches away from her. “This isn’t about her,” he said again. “You living here has nothing to do with your mom giving you your baby back.” He didn’t say it unkindly, and Patty knew he only meant it for what it was, the truth. Stan reached out and touched her arm. “This is about us,” he said softly, running his fingers down her arm.

Patty shook her head. “No. I’m not doing this.” She pulled away and grabbed her jean jacket off the floor. Stan was the first guy to ever care about her. Or at least she thought he cared. But who could be sure? She steeled herself, and said, “I have rules for a reason, Stan.” She turned to look at him and the hurt written on his face was almost too much. Patty shook her head. “I have to go. You should get some sleep. Don’t you work the afternoon shift today?”

“Patty—”

“I told you.” She shrugged into her jacket. “I have to go.”

“Will I see you later? Can we talk?”
 

Patty slung her fringed leather purse over her shoulder and reached for the door handle. “I’m not working tonight. I have a date.”

She knew her words would hurt him. That was the point. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a date with a man, but a certain little girl who was celebrating her second birthday.
 

“Patty, don’t—”

She didn’t turn around to see the look on Stan’s face. The hurt in his voice was enough. It doesn’t matter, she told herself as she walked out of his studio apartment, leaving him standing, still naked, in the middle of the room. It doesn’t matter, as long as I leave first.

***

It was only after returning to Bridgette’s apartment, quickly showering and sweet talking her roommate into letting her borrow her car, that Patty let herself think about Stan’s offer. Really think about it. She liked him. A lot. But she couldn’t really think that there was a future with him. He worked in the strip club that she danced in. She took another quick breath. It was too hot in the car. Too hot to think. She unrolled the window and the unseasonable heat hit her like a wall.
 

“Isn’t summer supposed to be over?” She tried in vain to cool off as the hot air flowed into the car. “Is it too damn much to ask for air conditioning?” She banged her fist on the steering wheel of Bridgette’s little hatchback and even as she did it, she knew she was being a brat. Bridgette never complained when she borrowed her car. Except, of course, when she smoked in it.
 

Patty lit a cigarette with the dashboard lighter and exhaled out the window. She hadn’t meant to start smoking. It was a stinky habit, at least that’s what she used to say to her friends in high school who’d pretended to be cool out in the parking lot between classes.
 

Ha, she thought. If they could see me now.
 

It was probably better if they didn’t see her, though. Most of her friends had stopped talking to her when Whitney was born. It wasn’t much fun to hang around someone who was lactating instead of partying. And the few friends who did stay true, well, Patty hadn’t bothered calling them since she left home. They would be shocked to know what she did for a living now. And she had enough judgement in her life right now without them.
 

She pulled up in front of her mother’s house and took a deep drag on her cigarette before tossing it out the window. What she really wanted was a drink, but that was probably bad form at a two-year-old’s birthday party, especially if she was your daughter.
 

Patty hauled herself out of the car and grabbed the present from the back seat. She took a moment to straight up, ignoring the tightening in her throat. How long had it been since she’d seen Whitney? Only a week, she mentally counted backwards. Okay, maybe ten days. She could never be sure if her own child would recognize her when she came to visit. She usually did, though. Or at least, that’s what Patty told herself.
 

Holding the box, wrapped in bright pink paper, Patty slowly made her way to the front door and knocked. She probably could have walked in. But ever since she’d left, the house felt strange. Like maybe it wasn’t her home anymore.
 

Her mother opened the door with a smile on her face. A smile that faded into a tight-lipped line when she saw Patty. “You’re late,” she said.
 

“You told me three o’clock.”

“I told you one, Patricia. You know how important punctuality is.”

The two women stared at each other, daring the other to challenge. Patty knew her mother had said three. At least, she could have sworn she’d said three. Patty tried to remember what she’d written down on the notepad next to Bridgette’s phone on the kitchen table. Maybe it had been one to three.
 

“I’m here now,” Patty said. She forced a smile on her face and pushed the pink box at her mother.
 

“Why don’t you give it to her yourself?” Her mother attempted a smile and turned and walked into the house, leaving Patty to follow.
 

Stan always told Patty that her mother didn’t purposely try to sabotage things with her and Whitney, but Stan didn’t know. He didn’t see the looks her mother gave her, the way she always corrected her whenever Patty tried to parent Whitney or even play with her. Stan didn’t see the way her mother treated her, like she was no-good trash. Stan didn’t know because he’d never met either of them. And if her mother had her way, Whitney would never get to know the important people in Patty’s life.

The thought stopped her in her tracks. Was Stan important? Important enough to let him in?

“Patricia, it’s so good to see you.” The voice broke through her thoughts and jarred her back to the present and the living room full of people. Patty turned around to see Mrs. Spencer sitting on her mother’s green floral patterned couch. The same couch she herself was never allowed to sit on as a child was now covered in people, many of them young children.
 

“Mrs. Spencer, I didn’t see you there.” The truth was, Patty hadn’t seen any of the people in the room because if she had, she would have gone the other direction. Mrs. Spencer, one of her mother’s closest friends, was nothing but terrible to Patty when she was pregnant. She’d never made it a secret that she thought Patty was an awful person for having a child out of wedlock. Patty didn’t even want to think what the old woman thought of her now.
 

“We didn’t think you were coming, Patricia,” Mrs. Spencer said. “Hazel said you haven’t been around much.” Her lips were pursed together, making the wrinkles around her mouth look even deeper than they were if that was even possible. “It must be hard to be—”

“I’ve been working,” Patty interrupted before the woman could say anything else. Patty couldn’t be sure what her mother had told her friends about what Patty did for work, but she could imagine it hadn’t been the truth. Patty resisted the urge to say something rude and simply offered Mrs. Spencer her sweetest smile before she walked away.
 

She needed to find Whitney, see her sweet face and give her the present. What she didn’t need was to get into an argument with a gossipy old lady who was on the lookout for a good story to share with her knitting group the first chance she got.