9. San Diego-Ocean Rising

Patrick
San Diego

All hell broke loose around us. Lawyers came flying at Kat, only to be ably deflected by Damon. Bottom line was they didn't have a pot to piss in, and nobody could prove she took the shot that turned Selina into an overnight sensation.

Despite Selina's many protests, she became an instant staple on the shock show circuit and was even courted by late night TV. Her trip home to Spain? Completely forgotten in the maelstrom of publicity.

Donna Rae disappeared to an expensive detox center, and her band reformed under a different name, moving to Europe and starting from scratch.

Kat had done them both a huge favor, in that roundabout way of hers. I know she was aware of this, but she never spoke of it.

Critics said I should man up and keep 'my little woman under control'. It made Kat crazy when she read these accounts, so I tried my best to shield her from the media. Everything they said was true. I couldn't control her, and I wasn't about to start trying.

She was my wild filly, all headstrong and foaming at the mouth once she grabbed that bit and set a course of action. I let it happen, because nobody could stop her. When you're dealing with a force of nature, you learn to hold on until the storm abates.

I could tell her that getting even never solved anything, because I'd been that guy. It had earned me years of therapy and suppressed anger that ate away at my insides (my Tums addiction started in 8th grade).

My greatest triumph was paying back all the assholes by becoming the success that I am. Fame and celebrity were earned, and in the beginning, I enjoyed every decadent second of my life. But drugs, booze, and endless bimbos couldn't plug the holes in my heart, and I decided to toss it all aside. This happened about 6 months before I approached Kat, and when we connected, I knew what was meant to be.

And it seemed I'd convinced her to join her life with mine. She wore the promise ring proudly, and I often caught her staring at me when she thought I wasn't looking. It was love that I saw, even if she couldn't bring herself to say the words.

She wasn't the only one with constipation of the tongue.

Those three simple words killed me every time I thought about saying them.

I love you.

I'd never said that to anyone—not even Aunt Rachel, though I loved her dearly. After my parents died in that crash, I'd retreated into myself and never truly emerged until Kat came into my life.

I closed that door with my ham-fisted ignorance, chasing her away for a good 15 years, until I saw an opportunity to make it right.

That door was cracked open again, and I planned on taking it off its hinges and learning to live again—with her at my side.

All this passed through my head as we moved closer to home. When we got to La Jolla, I directed Kat to an offbeat little lane that wasn't even marked. I pointed to a dirt driveway that twisted around a stand of trees. We arrived at the gate, which I opened with my remote. She continued driving down the now well paved road, lined by a colonnade of stately oaks. About a quarter mile later, we arrived at the front portico of my sprawling house. My housekeeper Nita waited with Rachel, and I hopped over the door and crushed them both in a hug.

Kat approached more cautiously and flashed an uncertain smile at Rachel, who smiled back broadly and folded her into a warm hug. I then introduced her to Nita, who took both of Kat's hands in hers and shook heartily. She was as round as she was wide, but there was no one I trusted more to manage this place while I was on the road. There were counterparts at my European villas, but I had decided to put those places on the market. They represented a far flung lifestyle that no longer suited me. My home was here by the sea, in this amazing retreat, with its private beach and spectacular views of sky and sea.

This was where I wrote the bulk of my music, and where half of my band's work had been recorded. And it was where I hoped to live with Kat—if she'd accept the offer promised by that ring.

*******

Now the thick warm cream light fades down into the mist from the sea
Three surfers - tiny black specs out across in the great waves

Twilight Home, Lyrics by Justin Sullivan

Kat
San Diego

I'd only seen places like this in glossy architectural magazines. It was a place of light and air and I instantly felt at home. There were gorgeous glass sculptures whose cost would have made me faint, and some Monets and Renoirs that had to be originals. But interspersed with the fabulous art was a level of comfort that smacked of a well-loved crib. Leather and suede sofas and chairs dominated the living room, with its skylights, paddle fans, and vaulted ceiling. Solid hardwood end tables and a long cherry coffee table broke the flow of furniture.

Patrick showed me how to operate the controls for the audio and video system, and before long, we were surrounded by some vintage Rolling Stones that followed us from room to room as we explored.

Each room was a new marvel, and I sighed at his exquisite taste in color and design. Warm colors mutated to cooler blues as we approached the bedroom wing. There were five guest rooms with private baths (the pale lavender suite was mine) and he finally swung open the double doors to the master suite.

Words could not adequately describe this space. It stretched from front to back and had a private veranda that wrapped around to the back. A staircase led down to the beach and boathouse. My mouth opened at the floor to ceiling wall of glass that had inset panels of Tiffany glass (I asked, it's the real deal). I craned my neck and took in all the colors, knowing I'd have a field day with my camera. "You've created your own personal art house. I love it."

Patrick smiled that lazy smile that was pure sex on a stick. His warm, chocolate eyes caressed my face fondly as he said, "So glad you approve."

I caught a faint whiff of sarcasm behind his very real pleasure in my assessment. "How did you find this place?"

He sighed. "It kind of found me when I came to a gallery showing up here. The road beckoned and then I discovered it was up for sale. The owner lost everything in the last recession and was letting it go for a song."

A song probably still meant multiple seven figures. "Cool. So is the cute purple room meant for me?"

Patrick was good at shuttering his emotions, but I still caught the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Sure. If that's what you want."

I suddenly felt like I was treading on shaky ground. "I just figured…maybe you'd want some space."

He closed the gap between us and touched my cheek with one hand. "Why do you think I brought you here?"

"To show off?" That was the easy answer.

"That's a given," he said with a smirk. "But you know it's not the reason."

Did I? Was I willing to entertain what the promise ring really meant? "So that guest room…you didn't have me in mind?"

Patrick let his fingers trail down my arm. "Maybe. Does it matter?"

I shrugged, but he sensed the tension in my forearm. "So you're thinking of something more…like this." My arm swept out to indicate the cozy looking king bed that dominated one wall, covered with a real bedspread that appeared to be custom designed for it.

He murmured, "Something more permanent."

His lids were heavy as he leaned in and kissed me so sweetly that it felt like the good part of the dream you never want to end. And then Prince Charles swept me into his arms and carried me swiftly to his bed, where he proceeded to ravish me endlessly.

*****

Patrick
San Diego

It was late afternoon and approaching the hour when photographers and artists chase the light. I sat in the chair near the bed and watched the shadows play on her face. Her face was relaxed as it almost never was when awake, and Kat was impossibly beautiful to behold.

My pencil sketched away as she turned slightly toward me, with cheeks dappled in golden light. Drawing was something I had always done with only a few art classes under my belt. It was the only thing besides music and sex that relaxed me, and I took advantage of any down time to get out the sketch pad and let my imagination run wild.

The sheet slipped off her shoulder and fell away to reveal her naked splendor. With a smirk, I roughly sketched in those amazing curves, knowing how little she would appreciate my efforts. After she smacked my arm and called me a sexist pig, she would launch into some feminist tirade about taking advantage of helpless women (as if). But of course, I could say that she'd photographed me in the altogether, and had I complained?

Thing is, I liked how she looked at me. Kat's desire for me had always been transparent, going all the way back to my strip tease in the hall on the day of the Filthy Souls concert. Or the time in shop when I'd been doused with oil, so pissed off that I'd barely noticed her frank appreciation of my naked chest. Later of course, she was all over me, and I loved every second of it.

Another movement pushed the sheets even lower and I smiled at the answering heat in my groin. If we kept up this way, we'd never make it out of the bedroom. It wasn't only making up for lost time, it was reveling in the now and the sheer wonder of having her at my side.

*****

Kat
San Diego

Patrick cooked cedar plank salmon for me that night and it was the best thing I had ever tasted. Perhaps it was the sea air, or the gorgeous, deep voiced man-boy who waited on me hand and foot. I can't say for sure, but this place was magical and I never wanted the adventure to end.

We cleaned up the dishes and ended up flinging soap suds at each other. I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I finally sobered up when my phone rang.

The caller ID said Bianca and I showed it to Patrick before answering. "Hey, sis. Good to hear from you. How's it going?"

"Same as ever. Lola is driving me crazy with her causes, and Sarah has grown another two inches."

I smiled with pride at the mention of my favorite niece. "Aww, she's a chip off the old blockhead aunt. How's Cameron dealing with all the hormones?"

Bianca laughed. "He hides in his study."

"What about you?"

"I've taken up screaming. You should try it sometime. It's very therapeutic."

My sister was only half kidding. "I'll take that under advisement."

"So the reason I'm calling…we're having a picnic this weekend, and we'd love it if you guys could come."

"Will Dad be there?"

"Yes, and he's bringing Rachel."

Patrick was listening in from his perch on the kitchen counter, looking delectable as always. "Really?"

"It's not the first time," Bianca explained. "We have dinner with them every other Sunday."

"Let me guess: pot roast, potatoes, and green beans."

"Bingo. But Dad's branching out. Last week, we had quinoa and eggplant parmesan with tofu."

My stomach curdled at the thought of eggplant, which gave me gas. And tofu? Forget about it. I was not part of the soy brigade, which was probably why I still ate seafood. "Text me the details, and I'll check with Patrick."

"No need. We're all going to his outdoor show together in Balboa Park after we eat."

Oh, goody. I barely get home and family is already suffocating me with plans and obligations. "Cool. See you there."

I disconnected and felt like hitting something. "And so it begins," I muttered ominously.

"What are we on the hook for now?"

"Picnic with the fam, including Wally and Rachel."

He rubbed my shoulder. "No sweat. Just pop a few Xanax and you won't give a crap about anything."

That was exactly what I'd done back in Boston, and he was calling me on it. "Thanks."

"Hey, you have to face him sooner or later."

I realized something else. "So do you, Patrick."

Patrick sighed. "Do I look worried?"

"No, but you should be."

He jumped off the counter. "Let's get out of here."

"And go where?"

His smile should have clued me in. "Anywhere. The beach?"

And with this reminder from that night at the dance, I acquiesced and followed him out to the deck and down the stairs to his little slice of heaven.

*******

And I'll be there - where the sky touches the sea
At the edge of the ocean where the beautiful world fades into the grey

Ocean Rising, Lyrics by Justin Sullivan

Patrick
San Diego

It was early morning and my sleeping beauty was still down for the count. I was pretty sure the food and our horizontal bop marathon knocked Kat straight into dreamland.

I headed for the surf and swam for awhile, just floating on my back and watching the clouds. It was a clear day, and a good time to visit old friends and do some touristy stuff that locals never bothered with.

Someone called my name and I squinted through the bright sun to see Rachel waving at me from the beach. She was holding up my swim trunks, which I left in an obvious place in case anyone caught me skinny dipping. I emerged with a smirk at her turned head and dried myself off before slipping them on.

"What brings you here so early?" I asked as we headed up the stairs and straight to the waiting coffee pot. We sat down at the deck and I poured for both of us. I mixed in some cream and figured this had to be about my current arrangement.

"Can't I visit my favorite nephew?" Rachel quipped.

I snorted. "What's the matter, Leo hitting you up for money again?" My brother was a drunken gambler, just like my father had been, and when he wasn't working at the garage, he was partying.

"Not lately," she said wistfully.

Rachel had tried her best with Leo, but even I could see he was a lost cause. "Good to know. Let me know if he bothers you again."

She sighed. "That's not why I'm here."

"Let me guess. Wally disapproves, and wants Kat to come home where she belongs."

Rach eyed me over her glasses and gave me the look. "He thinks you're taking advantage of her."

I tried not to smile, but I couldn't help myself. "Seems like I've heard that line a few thousand times."

"For good reason," Rach cautioned. "You're not exactly batting .1000 when it comes to commitment."

I would savor the next moment for a long time. "I gave her a promise ring."

The expression on Rachel's face was priceless. She looked so shocked that she nearly fell out of her chair. "Did you actually use those words when you gave it to her?"

"Yeah, and I kind of told her I…adored her." I grinned as she brought her hands up to her cheeks.

"Wow, Commitment City, complete with the keys to the city," Rach said as she looked around. She gave me a stern glance before saying, "You did invite her to stay, right?"

"Yeah. So will I pass muster with the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Maybe, but I have to say, he's not big on living together." Rach looked slightly downcast before admitting, "I asked him to move in and he turned me down."

And wouldn't you know it, that was the exact moment that Kat decided to put in an appearance.

******

Kat
San Diego

You could have knocked me over with a feather. "What the hell?" I said in total shock, resting my hand on Patrick's shoulder to steady myself.

Rachel's face had turned a becoming shade of pink. "Hey, Kat."

I continued to stare down at her in disbelief. "I knew you two were tight, but this…it's unexpected."

Patrick reached up and took my hand in his, directing me down to a chair with light pressure. "It'll be OK," he whispered.

I was annoyed, but only because I was hearing about this from someone outside the family. "Stop walking on eggshells, guys. So what if Rachel wants to shack up with my Dad? It's his loss if he's too stupid to say yes."

Rachel looked relieved. "I'm glad you understand."

How someone as liberal as Rachel could be even remotely interested in someone with my father's prehistoric views was one of life's great mysteries. But that was not for me to figure out, and if she wanted my blessing, she sure as hell had it. "I do. My Dad can be an ass, and I'll tell him that when I see him this weekend."

Patrick snickered. "Can I quote you on that when he runs me through the wringer?"

*****

Patrick
San Diego

Rachel had breakfast with us and had us in stitches over some of her adventures with Wally. She was a kinder and gentler version of me, but sometimes I could see the mischief in her brown eyes when she spoke of him. "I agree that your father has difficult tendencies…" She paused to look over at Kat and we cracked up again.

"And it hasn't skipped a generation," I said with a smirk.

"Lucky me," Kat stated sarcastically.

"Try to remember that when we see you this weekend," Rach suggested as she got up from the table.

Kat gave her a hug and murmured, "I promise not to call him an ass." Her expression told me she had any number of other descriptive words to throw at her Dad.

Rachel's face brightened. "There, you see? That's a good start."

I added, "But don't give up praying to the Patron Saint of Lost Causes. These Stratfords need all the help they can get."

That earned me an elbow in the side. "See you soon," Kat said tightly.

"So, that was awkward," I commented, leaning against the railing and looking out to sea.

She laughed bitterly. "You think that was bad? Just wait until this weekend."

I slung my arm across her shoulders. "The hell with them. Let's go out and enjoy the day."

"Wow, you're letting me out of jail?" Kat joked.

"Only if you agree to letting me chain you back up at night," I countered with a half smile.

"With or without my leather?"

I squeezed the top of her shoulder. "Any way you want it. Get cleaned up and we'll go see the sights."

*****

Kat
San Diego

We drove out to the Cabrillo Monument at Point Loma and for once, it was clear as a bell. The ocean was an amazing aquamarine and the city was sprawled at our feet like a skein of diamonds, skyscraper windows glinting in the noonday sun.

Patrick and I posed for each other, and even took up someone's offer to photograph us together. I thanked the Asian gent for taking such a great shot, and was even more relieved that there wasn't a hint of recognition on his face.

That wasn't the case when we went down to Seaport Village for lunch. A few girls caught sight of Patrick and it turned into a scene from A Hard Day's Night. We tried to escape to a café, only to be spotted from the ground by a funny guy with a parrot on his shoulder. Patrick suffered through lunch and signed half a dozen autographs for the wait staff, who were all fans of The Grease Monkeys. "Hope to see you at the show tomorrow," Patrick said on our way out.

We escaped onto the Midway, where we explored the nooks and crannies of the ship without anyone bothering us. I found a lot of interesting compositions with my camera, and only let Patrick spoil a few of them with his antics.

He was rather ebullient, and I belatedly realized that I had a little something to do with that. It was nice to see his lovely smile flash so often, and I nearly let the L word slip. I was wrapped in his arms, my back against his strong chest as we sat watching the sun slip into the sea out on Coronado Island. The bridge was lit up against the deep blue twilight, and in that second, it felt like the most perfect moment of my life. "Why didn't we ever do this before?" I asked softly.

Patrick kissed my ear and said, "Because it's the kind of lame ass stuff our parents get off on."

"Oh, God, have we turned into our parents?" I said with mock horror.

"Pretty much," he joked.

I thought of my Mom. "That's not always a bad thing," I said slowly.

He caressed my hair before tucking it behind my ear. "Thinking of your Mom?"

My breath shuddered out of me. "Yeah."

Patrick turned me to face him. "I think you got the best of them both. Your mother's looks with a hint of Wally the bull dog. Can't go wrong with that combo."

I laughed through my pain. "And what about you?"

"Aww, I'm just a chip off the old Rach," he said with his winning half smile.

Patrick never spoke of his parents, and I wasn't about to pry when it could break the spell this day had over us. "Then I'd say you're pretty lucky."

He touched his forehead to mine. "Me too."

*******

Patrick
San Diego

This would be a difficult day, and we both knew it.

We were both quiet at breakfast, and I caught her looking out to sea more than once.

"It's mesmerizing," I said softly. "If you look at it long enough, you can lose yourself."

Kat looked at me for a moment. "You wrote a song like that once."

I was pleased that she remembered. "Well, it was me trying to copy Justin Sullivan."

She smiled. "You did a damned fine job with it."

She was referring to The Sea and a Spade, the story of a gambling sailor whose luck went south. "I may do more like it on the next album."

"Any reason why?"

I put my head in my hands and gazed at the light playing in her hair, painting a golden path from her forehead to the back of her neck. "For 15 years, I wrote about the girl that got away. And now that I've found her again, it's time to mix it up a bit."

A tear trickled down her cheek and splashed on the table. "Anyone we know?"

"She's looking right at me."

I pushed the Kleenex box over and she grabbed a handful. "For later, just in case."

"How bad is he going to ream me?" I asked mildly.

Kat smiled as she wiped away her tears. "Remember that sumo grip he had on your shoulder?"

"How could I forget?" That first encounter was particularly memorable, especially the parts where I made him turn five shades of red.

"Multiply that by 100 and you start to get the picture."

"Ooh, I better practice my quaking in case things get serious."

"My advice? Let him have his say and nod whenever he asks you a question."

"Noted. Anything else?"

"Give him some really expensive cigars."

"Your Dad smokes?" I asked in amazement.

"Only on special occasions, so make them Cohibas."

Leave it to Walter to empty out my pockets before I had a chance to hit the bank. "What about booze?"

"He likes Macallan."

That was one thing he had in common with Kat. She'd nearly cleaned out my supply on tour. "Think you can behave yourself while I head to the bank?"

"I can try," she said with shining eyes.

I picked up the keys to my SUV (a hybrid, of course) and hoped to God she didn't locate my office on the lower level. Because if she caught a gander of my Kat stash, she would know instantly that I was the obsessed one. "I'll hold you to that," I warned with a smirk, pointing at her with my best Walter impression, which had the intended effect of cracking her up.

******

Kat
San Diego

I had no intention of behaving. This was my chance to explore the hidden reaches of the ever mysterious Patrick Verona, who still held bits of himself at arm's reach.

He'd shown me two out of three levels. So what was the big mystery? Did he have a secret room where he stored his stash? Would I take apart an air conditioner and find all the body parts he allegedly removed from his victims?

With a slightly nervous laugh, I reminded myself that this wasn't Dexter (Dad might have blocked Showtime, but that never stopped me from tapping other sources), and I was not even close to a victim.

I found his studio, and picked up one of his Fender Stratocasters. It was plugged in and ready to go, and a flick of a power strip brought it to life. I popped in a Breeders CD and played along to Cannonball, pretending I was Kim Deal as I played the chords from memory. Then I switched over to Cheap Trick and had a ball riffing to I Want You to Want Me, and finally I ended with Alternative Ulster.

That ate up 15 minutes, and he'd be back soon, so I better hustle my butt to explore the rest of this space.

Next to his studio was a fitness room and several showers, which led out to his pool. A quick sweep revealed a cabana, several waterfalls, and a built in hot tub on one end of the pool. It was exquisitely landscaped, and I exclaimed in delight at the sight of several fountains on the terraces built on the side of the hill.

The final room had a closed door, but it opened easily to my touch. It was a large office, and I suspected he ran his label from home. There were cabinets stacked along the walls, and everything was neat as a pin. It was only when my eyes traveled up the wall that I started to quiver inside.

On the far side of the room was a shrine…dedicated to me. It seemed like every project, article, and interview I'd been involved with was documented here. And it all dated back to just after we broke up. My mouth went into fly catching mode as I spotted the photo essay I'd done for Velvet Crush just before Patrick turned up in Boston.

The bits that he'd been hiding were about me. By the time I heard a car door slam and was on my way up to the kitchen, I was completely flummoxed. I thought I was the only one who did crazy shit like this, and to discover that Patrick was equally obsessed with me put me beyond words.

*****

Patrick
San Diego

I caught Kat reading an old issue of Guitar Player with me on the cover. She snapped it closed on and flashed me a deceptively sweet smile.

"What'd you do?" I asked with folded arms and a raised eyebrow.

"I've been here the whole time," Kat said evenly.

Long ago I'd told her that pretty girls are usually good liars, but someone as brutally honest as her couldn't possibly pull off more than a white lie. "Sure you have," I replied. "You played the Strat, didn't you?"

"Huh?" She continued to play dumb, and it didn't suit her.

"Aw, c'mon Stratford, just cop to it and all is forgiven," I joked as I emptied the many bags I'd lugged in from the garage. "I just dropped a wad on Wally. It's the least you can do."

"OK, maybe I went downstairs, and possibly discovered a guitar down there."

I chuckled. "No kidding. I left it out for you."

Kat protested, "But you told me it was off limits."

"I did? But that would mean you disobeyed me," I intoned with fake menace rippling in my voice.

She jumped up and held her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, God, I better run before you zap me with your soul sucker."

I sauntered over to within a few feet of her and leaned against one of the pillars. "No batteries. But I could spank you…and get off it," I leered.

Kat giggled as I started after her, barely making the end of the couch before I pounced. She tried protecting her butt, but I was more interested in her unprotected parts. With glee, I started tickling her sides and had her laughing so hard that she lost control and rolled to the floor, pulling me down with her into an undignified heap. My cat Simon chose that moment to join the fray and went after my shoelaces, which had come unraveled in the struggle.

I was chuckling at the thought of how we must look, and smiled at the tears running down Kat's cheeks. If I could make her forget about her impending doom (read: family picnic with Dad) for even a second, it was worth it. When we finally calmed down, we lay on the floor with Simon purring on my chest. "So, did you find any skeletons?" I asked dryly.

"Nope, just corpses."

"Damn," I said with a snap of my fingers. "With all those closets you were exploring, I was sure you'd find something."

"Well, there is one thing," Kat said softly.

I nuzzled her nose with mine. "What's that?" I asked hopefully, knowing full well she'd seen the wall in my office.

She murmured something in my ear and watched my face as the shock of her words registered. "I love you too."

******

Kat
San Diego

I'd let the L word out of the bag and all I got was a lousy smirk in response? With a face that could have curdled milk, I pulled away from him and headed for the beach.

Patrick came flying down the stairs after me, but I was already sprinting away, needing to distance myself from my colossal mistake. How could I be so wrong about something?

He'd given me a freaking promise ring. What did that mean? Anyone could say they adored someone, but that could be akin to sweet nothings for someone like Patrick. I knew my own heart, but did I really know his? Touring with him and being at his side every day should have taught me something about him, but all I took away from it was that the sex was fantastic and talking was restricted to sarcasm and banter.

As I looked far down the beach, I could still see him striding purposefully toward me, taking his time and watching to see what I would do. His private beach gave way to Blacks Beach, and I finally found a bench and sat down. It took Patrick awhile to catch up and he finally took a seat at the opposite end of the beach. "What the hell was that about?" he asked with a sidelong glance.

"You tell me," I exclaimed. "I finally tell you the one thing that I've never said to anyone, and you smirk at me."

Patrick sighed and dragged his fingers through his tousled curls. "You surprised me."

"You're kidding, right?" I got up and started pacing and his eyes followed me with a world weary patience that had always been his forte.

"Not about this." Patrick caught my arm on my tenth turn around the bench and stilled my movement. "You know I suck at all this romantic crap."

I started counting to ten and remembered his long ago comment about making out with me not being a big deal. "This romantic crap is our future," I cried.

He pulled me gently around to sit next to him and held up my left hand, with the promise ring sparkling in the bright sun. "I know."

"So why can't you say those words to me?" My words were tinged with the hurt I felt, and he touched my cheek with the back of his hand.

"I already have," he replied after a long pause. "Don't you get it? I came to you in Boston, with the sole purpose of winning you back. I designed this whole tour around you, not because I needed the money or the exposure, but so I could get to know you again. And when I saw your poems and how much talent you have, I thought it was another way I could bind you to me."

The look on his face took my breath away, and a moment later, he was kissing me so hard that I thought I would pass out. "Did it work?" he whispered raggedly.

"Mmm," I said with a fierce nod before burying my face against his shoulder.

"I've never said those words to anyone, Kat."

"What about Rachel?"

"No one." Patrick curled his hand around mine and looked more serious than I'd ever seen him. His dark chestnut curls tumbled over his brow, but they couldn't obscure the love shining in his eyes. "I've always loved you, Kat. I was just too stupid to see it."

That brought out my smile and when he responded in kind, I felt the same familiar whoa I'd experienced the first time at Club Bait when he'd let it loose on me. "And now?"

He kissed the palm of my hand. "I'm a little wiser…"

I coughed out the word bullshit and his smile widened.

"But I'll always be your Prince Charles...if you'll have me."

Note: Only one more chapter to go.