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His eyelashes lifted off of his cheeks very slowly and he glanced apathetically toward the bright red numbers displayed across the screen of the alarm clock. They were just another reminder of what today was, what today would determine. He had been dreading this moment for the last six months, but there was no getting away from it today, there was no denying what had happened and what he needed to do.
But he couldn't leave the bed just yet. It was still incredibly early what with them slipping off to sleep at sunrise. He hadn't been able to sleep very long, the day pressing on him. He had only one thing to do, one responsibility, but it seemed so gargantuan, so incredible, he couldn't bring himself to hurry and face it right this second.
Robin slept soundlessly beside him, her hair still damp from the shower she had taken before he had snuck over last night. Her beautiful cinnamon curls lay draped across her face like a veil and she was rested on her left side, her shoulder a makeshift pillow. He had no idea why she never relied on her actual pillows, but he would always find her sprawled across the mattress, her legs dangling off the end because she had moved there in the night.
He had spent a lot about contemplating the outcome of his test results, more time than he would ever admit to. It was only in these quiet moments when no one needed him, no one was depending on him for one thing or another, that he truly thought about it, about what today would mean for him. For the rest of the world, the day held no significance; for him the day determined the rest of his life.
Patrick kept a tiny portion of his brain as a resting place for his insecurities and fears, not all of them about the HIV hanging over his head, but of every uncertainty he had ever felt. He had purposely kept his family out of the loop for as long as he could, only a fluke of a cold catching him off-guard. Robin had explained to them what had happened and he had finally unplugged his phone. That was one of the reasons he hadn't had his phone yesterday: he simply couldn't handle anymore questions. Why couldn't he have just gotten through this on his own without everyone else trying to make it about them, about how it would affect them? He knew it was a selfish thought, but he figured he was past due for a few unsavory musings. Today he definitely got a few extra passes.
Lulu had taken the news the hardest, something he had found himself surprised by. She had said very little to him when he was over at the Spencer house getting better, none of them brave enough to move him or drive him to the hospital out of fear that it was something worse than it seemed. When she had sat with him, she simply watched him, waiting for him to turn colors or twirl his head all the way around. Patrick had actually consulted Lucky on Lulu's mood and his cousin had assumed him the girl was just going through a lot right now. Still, Patrick had worried and asked Aunt Laura, but her response had been about the same. Aunt Laura had pestered him with questions the most while Aunt Bobbie had called every afternoon at four to talk about whatever he wanted to talk about. She was the one he wished he had told from the beginning because she knew him the best.
But he had wanted to handle it alone and hurt way too many people in the process. He had been a selfish, guarded ass and had wreaked so much havoc over the last two weeks. When Robin tried to help him, he would pick a fight with her—it was easy enough to do— and then she would go crying to Elizabeth who would bitch to Lucky and then he would hear from Uncle Luke that he needed to be nicer to his girlfriend.
He had made the decision already to go to General today and get his results from Alan Quartermaine. It would be over and done with before Robin ever came looking for him. He wanted to have a little time to react mostly and didn't think he could do so with friends and family around to "support" him. He would feel pressured by their mere presence and hold it in. Holding his emotions back was part of what made him a guy, but so many things had gone wrong as a result of his trigger temper that he was worried he might hurt the people he cared about.
He glanced over at her now and ran his fingers down her arm starting at her shoulder, stopping at her wrist. She didn't even stir, but he hadn't expected her. He hadn't meant for last night to go as far as it had, had about convinced himself that she wasn't ready for him to make love to her, but she had been more than susceptible to his touch and kisses. He hadn't realized how much he had missed seeing her smile without it appearing that she did it for his benefit and his benefit only. She was still shaken from his collapse at Thanksgiving.
A clean bill of health sounded like Heaven, but he would always be aware of the fact that Robin would never have one. In fact, from the moment she had received her six-month test results, the clock had started ticking, the sand had started seeping through her fingers. From that moment on, there had been good days and there had been bad days, there had been smiles and tears and nausea and fear. He knew she was afraid of what the future might hold, but she wasn't open and honest about it. It wasn't a blatant fact that she felt the need to throw at him or anyone else when they pointed out that she might very likely die before her son was old enough to drive.
He didn't want to think about that, but the fact was there, staring him in the face. He couldn't ignore it anymore than he could stop breathing. It was more than hard to accept, it was damn near impossible to even think about. Robin was the best person he had ever known and, without warning, she could be gone. He knew she already had alternate living arrangements for Morgan though they had never discussed it. He was also aware of the fate of her business if she should suddenly turn ill. He had a pretty good idea that the profits from the business would go directly into Morgan's savings account. Sonny had left her enough to support Morgan along with whatever medical care she required in the future.
And then there was the matter of this new baby. His life would be forever changed today and then again in less than a year when his child was born. He had lain in bed last night just picturing what their son or daughter would look like, if he or she would have soft locks of curly hair like their mother or the unkempt mess he had on top of his head. Brown eyes were an obvious thing. He had never thought in terms of the shape of the baby's eyes or the nose. He assumed it would have dimples, but it could just as easily not. Maybe his kid wouldn't be into sports, would prefer cooking and the arts like Robin. These were things he had tried his hardest not to think about last night, but they had been there, clouding his mind and pinching his heart.
This child must seem a blessing in Robin's eyes: a testament to their love growing inside her still-flat stomach. He wondered if she had known long enough to find comfort in talking to their child, if she lovingly rubbed her belly when no one else was around. He had known less than twenty-four hours and he was still stumbling to keep up. These coming months were going to be hard on both of them and there was a part of him that really thought they should get married because it was the right thing. The only problem with that assumption was that Robin might not want to get married. She might decide that he felt obligated to do so and do something drastic, like cut him out of their child's life. He would have to be careful how he did this. It was one reason he hadn't pressured her into talking about it last night: he didn't want to tempt fate. She may have little or no use for fate, karma, and everything else, but he was a paranoid kind of guy and he knew better than to shake his fist at God without expecting some kind of life-altering result.
Patrick leaned across Robin's body and pressed a slow, warm kiss to her closed eyelids wishing he didn't have to leave her. An hour had passed and he could wait no longer. He needed to face this, needed to get it over with, so they could handle this next adventure together. Robin would never forgive him for doing this alone, but he figured he owed it to her, to himself, and to their future together to handle the results on his own before he shared it with her and the rest of his family. Maybe it was his pride, probably, but he didn't care. He had decided from the moment of exposure that she wouldn't be there with him when he was handed his fate in the form of an eight by eleven sheet covered in a scramble of words he didn't understand.
Lance wiggled in the leather passenger seat, his impatience clear in the way he stared over at Lucas. They had been stuck in this car for over two hours and he had run out of things to do. What kind of job was this anyway? He had always thought his daddy did something really fun like Inspector Gadget, but this was way more boring than school. But he couldn't go back there for an entire six weeks. Stupid Chase McNamara, he grumbled inwardly.
Lucas gave Lance a look of compassion. He bet his little boy found all of this very disenchanting, but there was no way he could make it into more than it was, least of all on a stakeout. Jumping from the car and making a mockery of himself to entertain his son would cost him a very substantial account and he wasn't willing to risk it. There hadn't been a choice about whether or not to bring Lance with him, because Dillon was obligated to attend the premiere of his newest picture. Lucas would wear polka dots before he allowed his only son to stand arm to thigh with a bunch of drug-addicted hippies. He had said all of this to Dillon and thus dug himself a hole when it came to where Lance would go for the night. Dillon would be flying back in the morning, he promised, which meant it would be closer to three days before he graced them with his presence.
"Do you want to play cards?" Lucas offered, already predicting his son's answer. They had played every card game he could think of, lost a half dozen pieces of the Domino's after continued use, and run out of magic tricks. Lance put both of his hands under his chin and pressed his elbows into his knees, barely able to keep from rolling his eyes.
"Why do we have to stay here?" Lance gestured toward the house they were hidden behind. "Nobody's home or it's their bedtime." He reasoned with a huff.
"It's not their bedtime." Lucas argued, figuring he was fighting a losing battle. Was there a way to argue with a six-year-old and win? He doubted it. "We'll go in a minute, but it's my job to see what's going on." Mr. Homer Whackles—it had taken every bit of professionalism for Lucas to even speak in the presence of such a man—was suspicious that his wife was having an affair. What made this case interesting was that his accusations of her extra-marital affairs extended from one to the possibility of three different men. All of the evidence so far had been circumstantial: that was why he had sought out Lucas' services. He wanted to use the adultery as leverage to get custody of his children, had told Lucas that he planned on divorcing "the whore" once he was certain of her infidelity. It was a dirty business and Lucas was again thankful that he was a big enough man to admit that he had been ridiculous in his assumptions about Dillon and Georgie reuniting.
"This is super boring, Daddy. Can't we just go home? What if we leave a camera out here in the bushes and go home? You promised you would read Aladdin." Lance reminded him. He was not above using any means necessary to get Lucas to budge and take him home.
"That would be cheating, Lance, and I was paid to catch them in the act." Lucas replied frankly.
"What act?"
"Um...well..." Lucas realized he had spoken out of turn. Just as Patrick sometimes mistook Morgan for an older kid or even a young adult, he often forgot that Lance was barely school-age.
"Don't you even know what you're 'posed to be doing, Daddy?" Lance challenged, folding his arms across his middle.
This conversation was going to come back and bite him in the ass that much Lucas knew. It would be brought up over dinner by his wonderful and loving husband and he'd never be able to live it down. He might as well straight with his son, at least as much as possible. "Well, you see, sometimes mommies and daddies have friends other than each other and they go to see them a lot more than they should."
"But everybody's gotta have friends, Daddy." Lance insisted hastily. "You mean like Daddy and Georgie?"
Lucas wasn't even aware that he had started grinding his teeth together at the mention of his husband's ex-girlfriend. He was over this so why did it bother him still? Dillon had sworn up and down that nothing was going on and that kiss at the airport could have been for any number of reasons, plenty of them being platonic. There was no reason for him to overreact yet again. "No, I trust your daddy." Lucas promised, ruffling his son's blonde hair. "But sometimes other daddies don't and I tell them I'll check into where the mommies are. Do you understand?"
"Not really. Can I listen to my iPod?" Lance had inherited Dillon's attention span.
Lucas smiled brightly. "Of course, but we can't blast it."
"When I get married, I'm gonna have lots of friends." Lance declared.
"When you get married? Don't grow up too fast on me, okay? I'm still adjusting to elementary school." Lucas answered honestly.
Looking up at the brick covered building Cruz wondered for the millionth time since Patrick's message why he was standing there. Or why he had bothered to arrive on time. Even though his friend had said meeting him was urgent, it didn't mean Patrick would actually arrive on time.
Cruz looked up and down the tree covered street, searching for a glance of the familiar blue sports car. This had to be related to some job Patrick was shooting. The residential neighborhood. The family homes nearby. Proximity to a school. His friend had to have booked some national ad campaign with a family theme. Otherwise, why wouldn't he have asked to meet at Kelly's or Jake's?
Patrick pulled into the apartment building five minutes later looking refreshed as well as anxious. He hadn't known if Cruz would agree to this at first, but look at him: here on time and everything. "Good, you're here!" He greeted his friend, coming up behind him just to watch him jump five feet in the air. He hit the lock button on his keypad and glanced up at the building. He hoped it looked like the brochure.
"Nice of you to finally show. Silly me for thinking urgent meant you would show on time." Cruz teased him good naturedly.
"I got stuck in traffic. Are you up for this? Who knows how long it could take?" Patrick warned him.
"Since when does it take you a long time to decide on a location? You planning on taking longer than ten seconds?"
Patrick smiled begrudgingly. Cruz was no fool. He didn't want to have the baby discussion with him before he had it with Robin. "Since I have a reputation to uphold."
"Oh can't damage that." Cruz rolled his eyes. He couldn't shake this feeling there was something else to this sudden need to check a location. There was a piece of information that was just eluding his grasp at this precise second. As soon as he could figure out what that was, Cruz was hoping this would all make sense. "I assume you know where you are going?"
"Yeah, fifth floor. Come on." He led Cruz to through the foyer and into the elevator, wondering if any apartment would fit his and Robin's personalities as well as provide a safe environment for Morgan and the baby.
The landlord was a short, stubby little man with receding brown hair and sharp green eyes behind a pair tortoiseshell glasses. He looked to be in his early fifties and his charcoal gray suit radiated the image of money, only his Christmas tie taking away from his professional facade. "A gift from my daughter." He explained sheepishly, unlocking the door and letting them inside. "As you can see, this apartment just screams home and family."
"Are we sure it's not radiating time warp vibes?" Cruz muttered under his breath. "Are those doilies?"
It screamed something, Patrick thought wryly. Something bad. Something he wanted to wrinkle his nose in disgust at. This was where he was expected to live? He hated it on sight, whether that was fair or not. The room smelled of potpourri and stale cookies. He felt like he had been thrown into a nineteen seventies movie without warning.
"I don't know if you have enough room in here for all your equipment" Cruz pointed out. What was Patrick thinking? He couldn't tell by just hearing the apartment's dimensions this wasn't big enough for a photo shoot? Cruz could barely walk three feet without bumping into his friend.
The salmon-pink couch openly mocked Patrick and he immediately wanted to take a pocketknife to it. "Mr. Garrison, we should be going. I don't think this will work for us." He explained politely. "Besides, that coffee table is a safety hazard." He suddenly couldn't breathe as an image of Robin holed up in the kitchen while he and Morgan lost sight of the baby in the mass of mismatched pillows.
"Well of course I'm not saying you have to take the coffee table." Mr. Garrison promised profusely.
"Thank goodness for that." Cruz joked under his breath.
"Deadlines, you understand." Patrick nudged Cruz out of the apartment and wasn't able to breathe until they were in the elevator.
Cruz smacked his friend on the back of his head. "Have you lost it? You seriously were considering that Grandma house for a national ad? I thought this was to protect your reputation."
Patrick didn't answer, his pride too hurt. What kind of moron had he been to trust the brochure? He hadn't been lying when he had used the excuse of a deadline. He wanted them to be able to get into the apartment and make it home long before the baby came.
"Tell me you had a backup. You did think of a backup right?"
"Of course." Patrick nodded. "It's across town. If you want to drop off your car here, we can pick it up at the end of the day."
Cruz glanced at his watch, and paused to consider the offer. "I better follow you. I have an interview at one, so I'll probably have to leave from door number two."
"An interview?" Patrick lifted an eyebrow in speculation.
"Yes. You know, what I do for a living? Interview people? Write up articles? That sort of thing?"
"Is that what you do?" Patrick teased with a grin.
"Well getting by on my boyish good looks only took me so far." Cruz smiled, daring Patrick to go further.
"This next place should be better." Patrick hoped. He did a mental checklist of what he needed to be focusing on: a chef's kitchen, three bedrooms, the possibility of dangerous corners, rooms, or anything else that a baby might get hurt by. He knew they started out small and incapable of walking on their own, but he had seen enough movies to know they didn't stay small and helpless. He didn't want to have to move out of this next apartment for anything short of a house. On the subject of that, his mind shut itself off, mentally blocking all that that future planning would entail. One thing at a time.
They were met at the entrance of the Granbury Apartments by a trim woman with black hair and watchful blue eyes. She was dressed for success in a black pantsuit and her hair was pulled back into a perfect bun. She led them to the elevator, never speaking to either of them. Patrick had met her once or twice through one of the magazines he worked with, but it was the reference from an acquaintance that convinced him to call her up and see if there were any available apartments.
"I'm Grace Granbury." She said at last, giving Cruz a once-over and smiling once she met his eyes. "I had a problem with the previous tenant of this lovely penthouse, but I'm sure the same won't happen with you." This she directed to Patrick.
"Tenant?" Cruz mouthed silently behind his friend. Patrick had been known to stretch the truth when he was scouting a location but this was a new one. "Well this certainly looks more in line with what you are looking for." He remarked, deciding to play along with the game for now.
"I appreciate you meeting us on such short notice. Will was singing your praises." Patrick told her winning a cunning smile.
"I'm sure he was. This way." She handed the key to Patrick and made him open the door.
Patrick blinked, noticing the contrast in the two apartments. Where the other had lacked in originality and space, this one more than made up for. The first part they were introduced to was the living area, a room that was separated from the others simply by a few wooden beams. The room was open and the ceiling was high giving the impression of a much larger space than it actually was. Two ceiling fans flapped just above them and that was when he noticed the backwards J shape of the stairs. To his left stood three floor-to-ceiling windows and a tourist-like view of the town. Their shoes were hard against the bare wooden floors as they moved through the penthouse like treasure seekers.
"I think we could fit all three of our homes in here and still have space left over." Cruz finally managed.
"Kitchen." Patrick whispered slowly. His mind was moving at a sluggish pace still trying to catch up with the enormity and beauty of this place. "The kitchen is important."
Grace smiled at his tenacity. "Off to the right." She almost laughed.
Cruz followed Patrick to the kitchen and let out a low whistle. "I think this is bigger than the kitchen in Robin's bakery."
"One can only hope." Patrick murmured. The kitchen was just as Patrick had hoped it would be: an L-shaped marble counter wrapped around the room locking in a separate bar accompanied by two stools. Running parallel to the sink was a metal refrigerator and an extra shelf where he could imagine Robin keeping her little knick-knacks. A four-bulb lamp hung above the bar just a few inches right of a second sink. The electric stove and double oven was cushioned in the back making up the other part of the L.
"I assume you are pleased?" Grace insinuated, taking note of their jaws dragging the ground.
"Where do I sign?" Patrick asked only half-joking.
"Can I move in? I can probably afford a third of the rent." Cruz joked.
"Don't you want to see the rest of it?" Grace probed lightly.
"No." Patrick shook his head. "No, I think this will do just fine."
"Yeah we don't need to see the helipad on the roof."
"Oh, they took that out years ago." It was Grace's turn to join in on their banter.
"Well you don't want to be ostentatious." Cruz conceded.
Patrick suddenly glanced down at his watch. It was nearing noon. He needed to get over to General and pick up his test results. "You know, I've got to get going, but Grace if you would please fax me everything I'll have it back to you before the day's end." Patrick handed her his card which he had had printed up a few years ago when his business started taking off.
"Get going?" Cruz questioned. "You have some client you forgot about?"
Patrick scrambled for an explanation. "Yeah, you know how it goes. Sometimes, I think I should quit being cheap and hire a secretary."
"Yeah. You need to look into that." On the surface there was nothing obviously wrong with Patrick's explanation or his sudden haste, but still Cruz couldn't shake the feeling something was off here.
"It was so great to meet both of you." Grace took the key from him and waited for them to retreat back to the elevator before locking the door behind her.
Watching Grace securely lock the door, Patrick forced a smile on his face. He had to be calm about this or Cruz would end up being suspicious. He had roughly twenty minutes to leave Cruz, get across town to the hospital, and find the right floor. "Looks like you'll make that interview." He joked, leaning back on the heels of his feet.
"Looks like." Cruz replied slowly. Was he getting the bum rush? Why did Patrick look so eager to get away from the eighth wonder of the apartment world? "I still got some time. You want to go to Kelly's for some lunch?"
That was dirty. Patrick stalled for time looking at his watch. "Damn. I can't. I'm going to be late if I don't leave right now. But later man." He took off briskly toward the elevator raising his hand as a farewell.
"Yeah later." Cruz leaned against the wall confused and took a decidedly slower pace, pausing to look out the hall window that offered a view of the street in front. He was just in time to see Patrick load himself into his car and speed off like a bat out of hell. He had definitely just been given the brush off. Patrick never turned down Kelly's. Cruz knew his sense of direction wasn't the greatest, but he was pretty sure the quickest way to Patrick's studio was the opposite of the way his friend was heading. The direction Patrick was going, he was going to have go through town, straight past the university, the high school, the hospital...
His mind stopped as the elusive information finally settled into his brain. The hospital. Cursing his own obliviousness, Cruz flipped open his cell phone and groaned when the date flashed in mockery. Of course. The test results were today. Rolling his eyes, he searched through the phone for the familiar set of numbers. Pushing the send button, he hurried his pace toward the elevator, punching the call button repeatedly. When his call was finally connected, he almost sighed in relief.
"Lucky. We have to go man."