Robin lay in bed, tracing her thumb over her bottom lip as Patrick had done last night. The caress had been as light as a whisper. He hadn't moved in to kiss her but she knew he had been tempted. It was out of character for them to not embrace in some way and perhaps she had reveled in his touch a little too long, maybe she had stopped breathing altogether. She couldn't remember any of that, only recalled the feel of his thumb sliding across her lip.
"I want you to be able to trust me again."
His words had caught her by surprise. He was taking the blame for what his brother had tried to do to her. If anyone was innocent in all of this, it was Patrick. She had tried to get him to see that so many times, but the words got caught in her throat as he stood less than a foot away from her. She hadn't been able to respond at all. He swept his free hand through her hair and tilted her head back, his eyes locking on hers.
"I think we should start over."
Though it had been a juvenile reaction, she had automatically assumed he was breaking things off with her. She wouldn't have blamed him for wanting to. Just based on the issues she had had before the attack, she figured he was more than rational to want to end their relationship. Unable to hold back the tears, she voiced her concern.
"You misunderstand. I want to take you back to the beginning, take you back to when the most pressing part of our relationship was whether or not you were going to kiss me."
For a cautious man, he was saying all the right things. He understood her wariness had little to do with him, but he was still taking his time, not wanting to pressure her into something she didn't want, wasn't ready for. After the party, he hadn't tried to kiss her again, the sight of her crying his undoing. They had put on a nice front for the rest of the world for the remainder of the night but, once she had tucked Morgan into bed, she had found Patrick outside her apartment, his hand poised to knock.
"You don't have to do this."
Robin's own voice had startled her. She didn't want to be anyone's burden: it was why she hadn't talked to Elizabeth or Courtney about the night Patrick brought her into the hospital. Her friends had kept their distance as she had asked them to and she appreciated it. Patrick hadn't backed off though. He was still tenacious as ever.
"Would you go out with me on Sunday?"
How strange that his question should be filled with such modesty, such fear that she might turn him down. She brushed away a tear from under each of her eyes and just stared at him for the longest time. If this was his idea of going back to the beginning, she must have missed out on that first date, because there had been nothing subtle about it. He had made certain she knew exactly what he wanted from their first kiss.
"I don't know what to say."
Her admission caused him to tear up and she thought she might just collapse at the scene. It wasn't a refusal. She honestly didn't know how she was supposed to respond to his question. She had gone almost insane with trying to determine his feelings for her the first time. Could she really go back in time with him under completely different circumstances? Where was the safety net in that? What if it didn't work? He drew his hand away from her face and she felt like a coward.
"What do you want to do?"
His voice lacked arrogance and she found that she was terrified. If he was uncertain, who was she supposed to cling to when the storm came? What was the point of starting over if she was just going to let Logan win? Swallowing hard, she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. Forcing her tears back, she tried to speak.
"What time?"
Ever since she gave in, she had been in complete agony. Absolution was nowhere to be found. He had left her standing there, stumbled to the elevator, and been gone before she could even think to stop him. This wasn't any easier for him than it was for her and she tried to find comfort in that.
"I want you to be able to trust me again."
Pressing her face into her pillow, she let her tears soak through the pillowcase, feeling her body shake so hard she started to hiccup. Squeezing the pillow to her chest as if it were a lifesaver, she did something she hadn't done since childhood: She said a prayer.
Morning light swept into the room like a criminal, piercing her swollen eyelids with a single ray of sunshine. Reaching for her forehead, she rolled into her pillow and willed the brilliant shock of light to leave her alone. She had gotten almost no sleep, barely catching two fifteen-minute naps between the time she lay down and now.
Reaching for the spare bottle of Aspirin she kept in the top drawer of her nightstand, she fished out what felt like three and threw them into her mouth without turning her face toward the light, without opening her eyes. The alarm was silent, but she knew that wouldn't be the case in a few minutes. If she hadn't agreed to come in and cover for Lucas at the shop, she would never have set the damn thing. She might have actually slept in like most people did on a Saturday morning.
As expected, a shrill beep broke through the silence, but it wasn't her alarm that urged her to get up: it was the timer on her watch. It was time to take her medication. It didn't matter how many times she took them, it was always a hassle. She figured her alternative was death and let out a humorless laugh at the prospect. She would take the damn pills until they came out with some other way to interfere with her damn life. Maybe it'd be best for everyone involved to close the bakery and lock herself inside her office.
She was still three months from her taxes being due and, though it seemed next to impossible, the down payment for the Barrett-Jacks wedding split in half covered all of her expenses allowing her to break even. The side business was offering a helping hand to her business and, for the first time since she bought it, she actually thought it might start holding its own weight soon.
"Time to wake up." Robin announced, her hand softly tapping on her son's bedroom door. He was dead to the world, passed out on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow. She used to wonder how he slept that way without suffocating but, after watching him those first couple of nights, she learned that he eventually turned his face in the wall's direction.
He had fallen asleep in his Spider-Man costume again. She felt her heart squeeze. Try as he may, he was still a little boy. He was growing, far too fast for her liking, but it was nice to see him finally act like a six-year-old. Robin purposely didn't count down how long she had before he turned seven, because it just didn't seem that she had had him as long as she had. "Come on, kiddo." She tried again, but he simply mumbled unintelligibly and rolled over so that she had a nice view of his back.
"If you get up now, I'll have just enough time to make pancakes before we have to leave." She wasn't above bribing him. It had worked on every child she had ever come into contact with and there was no reason to knock a good thing.
Morgan's ears lifted up at the mention of breakfast, but his body remained motionless. He was thinking it over, she deciphered.
"Homemade maple syrup." Robin knew she had him. He was far too much like Sonny to rely on junk food: he was relatively spoiled to healthy, filling meals. She had half expected him to demand she serve him microwave pizzas for the rest of his life when she had taken over as his guardian.
"What about strawberries?" Morgan wanted to know, falling onto his back. His face was very serious, so much so like Sonny's when he was handling a negotiation. As alike as they were, she swore she would never let him turn out like his father or honorary uncle had. Never.
"Fresh cut strawberries on top." Robin promised with a slow nod.
"Well what are we waiting for?" Morgan practically squealed, sliding out of the bed with a purpose. It was only when he whipped past her that she remembered to take her pills. They would go well with orange juice. She was almost certain they had orange juice. The impulse to call Patrick and ask if he had any was so strong she let out an unsteady breath. Tomorrow they were starting all over again. She just hoped she was ready for whatever he had planned and that, by the end, he didn't regret it.
The day was pretty uneventful. Edward and Lila did visit though, both talking about what a success the party had been and didn't she think so. She agreed, preparing their normal menu without even having to look at what she was putting into the tiny pink box. She tied a perfect bow in the middle and handed it to Lila, taking Edward's money in the same motion.
Lois snuck over, pretending to be lost, and they ended up talking for two hours about mostly mindless things until the subject broached into Lucky and Elizabeth territory and Robin made an excuse to get back to work. If she had learned anything from the men in her life, it was that she wasn't going to be a gossip. When Elizabeth was willing to admit that there was more going on between her and Lucky than sex and similar interests, she would make sure she was the first to offer an ear. How often did the planets align again?
She received three new cake orders and spent the rest of the day planning out the ingredients and décor for each one. One was for a girl's Sweet Sixteen party, one was for a fiftieth wedding anniversary, and one was to announce the birth of a brand new baby boy. If she thought she could make a living on creating exquisite cakes, she would sell the bakery to the first bidder, but she knew that was impossible. Maybe when it was actually doing better than now, more than paying its bills, she would cash in some of her money and take Morgan to Disney World.
The front door opened and closed before she knew what was happening. Abandoning the cake ideas for a minute, she plastered a smile on her tired face and went to greet her customer. She felt her cheeks flame when she noticed a familiar figure standing at the counter, his face hidden behind an incredible bouquet of flowers. "Hello beautiful." Patrick greeted her, handing over the arrangement thus leaning forward and kissing her right cheek.
"Hello." Robin was so stunned; she didn't even try to dissuade his sentiment. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something strange about the flowers in her hands. "Are they artificial?" They sure didn't look like any fake flowers she had ever seen, but neither were they real.
Smiling at her confusion, Patrick took a pink petal between his thumb and index finger, broke it off, and placed it on Robin's tongue. "It's candy." He explained when she warily closed her mouth and chewed it.
"Have you tried this?" Robin murmured, copying his technique and coaxing Patrick to open his mouth by touching the side of his cheek. "It's delicious." She half moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure.
"It is very good." Patrick agreed, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.
Watching him through narrowed eyes, she swallowed the candy down and inquired in a nervous little squeak, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm eating candy with my girlfriend. You?" He teased, lowering his head to kiss her knuckles gingerly.
"I mean, I thought we were going out tomorrow." She didn't mean to sound so put off by him stopping by; she just wished she had had some warning so she could have put in a little extra effort as far as her appearance was concerned. She looked like a washed-out brunette with a mop for a head.
"We are." Patrick nodded and she noticed a tiny glint in his eye. "I just wanted to see you." Finding his admission both heartfelt and demobilizing, Robin's lips worked into a slow, sensual smile.
"I have to close the shop. Excuse me for a second." Robin figured putting distance between them was the best solution. If she could stay at least ten feet away from him at all times, she might not rip off his clothes and have her way with him. She really wanted this little experiment to be successful and that meant she was, under no condition, to give into temptation.
A slow tune caught her ears and she turned toward it, finding Patrick across the room with his hand extended to her. Her heart in her throat, she stared at him for what felt like eternities. Hadn't she just decided to keep her distance and now, here he was, manipulating the situation? "Dance with me." His words were as palpable as a familiar touch and she shivered, her arms already moving to wrap around her. "Please." He goaded further, completely unaware of the torment his plea thrust upon her.
One dance won't kill you. Pretend this is a dancing class and Patrick is a complete stranger, her mind cautioned. Only get close enough to link your fingers. You can do this. This is so simple. Maybe wait for this song to end so that you can pick out a faster beat. Slow songs are a big no-no. At the innocent meeting of their hands, she felt an electric current go through her, shaking her to her very core.
"Are you alright?" Patrick leaned into her so that their lips were almost touching and caught her startled stare. "It's just a dance." He assured her.
"Yes." Robin croaked out, relaxing her fingers over his.
"Would you mind if I make a few adjustments? I don't think I've been this nervous since my first junior high dance." Patrick chuckled, not waiting for her permission. Lifting her hands to rest across his shoulders, he slowly pulled her forward, his fingers bunching in the material of her apron, and settled his arms around her waist.
Robin wasn't sure when exactly the sun had gone down, but the shop was suddenly very dark. The pink neon sign from across the street provided them a scant amount, but she still found herself squinting to prove to herself that Patrick was still there. His hands slid over her hips and he held them there in a steady, comfortable motion that had her gnawing at her bottom lip in apprehension.
She wanted to run her fingers over every intricate detail of his face, from the brush of his brows to the bridge of his nose and then from the satiny smooth feel of his cheeks to the perfect curve of his mouth. Daydreaming about the early evidence of a five o' clock shadow tickling her lips was the first sign that the situation was fast slipping out of her control. His breath was hot and labored as it fanned over her right ear and she knew she needed to put an end to this, but she lacked the self-discipline. He was seducing her with the softest of touches, the barest of movement as their feet fell into the uncomplicated rhythm of the music, and she was indulging in naughty fantasies.
Shaking her head to knock what little sense she had left to the front of her brain, she finally met his eyes and wished she hadn't. How easy would it be to lose herself in the deep caverns of his dark chocolate eyes, in the possessive sweep of his tongue over hers? Self-deprivation was not commonplace for them, not when they had gotten carried away by the luring promises of passion countless times before. Unconsciously, she kneaded at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the flesh there, and it was his turn to moan.
Placing soft, biting kisses down her jaw line, he molded her skin beneath his fingers, causing her to whimper in response. Once his lips reached the base of her throat, her apron was as good as gone. Pushing the barrier away, he nipped and kissed her chin, relishing in the sound of her quiet, breathy gasps. "Let me kiss you," he asked hoarsely, lifting his eyes to hers. Even their first kiss hadn't been as slow and sensual as this one and she found herself overwhelmed by the realization.
Her eyes fluttered as he deepened the kiss by varying degrees. Each time he ran his hands up and down her sides he caused unmistakable friction and the ends of her ruby red shirt to come undone from her black dress pants. Her arms circled his neck and she walked deeper into his arms so that each and every one of their contours fit perfectly together. At the feel of his hands on her bare skin, she shuddered in ecstasy.
Wanting to return some of the attention he was giving to her, her fingers flicked purposely at the buttons of his striped navy shirt until they surrendered completely. He only stopped kissing her long enough to tug the shirt up and over his head and then his tongue was in her mouth again. Cradling him between her thighs, she brushed her fingertips over his nipples listening to his gruff moans as she continued her exploration of his upper body. He tugged at the loose restraint and her hair fell across her shoulders like a shawl. Dipping her head over one firm nipple, she let her tongue draw it into her mouth.
His hands shook as he undid the lax tie of her shirt and stared at her as if this was truly the first time, as if he had never seen anyone more beautiful. Lifting her head from his chest, he captured her mouth and lowered her onto the cold, tile floor.
The song switched from Rod Stewart's "Have I Told You Lately" to some irritating song, instantly bringing them back to reality. Looking into her eyes, Patrick brushed his fingers over her cheeks, stealing one final kiss before drawing them to their feet and pulling the two halves of her shirt together. She followed his lead and handed him the shirt she had wrestled off of him not five minutes ago, taking her time to fasten each button.
"I didn't mean—" He began.
"I know." She cut him off.