“I tried to get him interested in cooking, Norah,” said Renee, taking charge of the conversation once more. “It never worked. Unlike Abby, our middle child. She is a baker and a half, that girl. Her cinnamon scrolls are second to none.”
Tom nodded in placid agreement.
“Abby is the veterinarian,” said Patrick. “Remember I told you all about her and my other sister? About our whole family history, really. And I showed you all of those pictures, too.”
“Oh, yes,” I lied. Way for the man to throw me in the deep end. If we’d been sitting at a table I’d have stomped his foot. Honestly. “I remember now. Of course I do. We’ve talked about so many deep and personal things. I just kind of forgot there for a minute.”
“That’s okay,” said the jerk with a smirk. At least he was enjoying himself.
“Lord only knows what Patrick has told you. I’ll just take it from the top. Our youngest is Emily. She’s married to Guadalupe and they have one-year-old twins. Would you like to see pictures?” In no time at all, Renee retrieved her cell from her handbag and shoved said pictures under my nose.
“Those are some very cute babies.”
“Aren’t they just?” She smiled. “Look at those little faces. Don’t they make you want—”
“Stop,” barked Patrick. “Mother. We talked about this.”
“Sorry. Sorry. I solemnly swear to not raise the topic of you two having babies again.” Renee put the cell away. “This visit.”
Patrick just sighed.
But her husband bit back a smile. “Nice save, sweetie. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Holy hell. My uterus had never been under so much pressure to perform. Also, I found it interesting that Tom always seemed to refer to his wife as sweetie. Guess that’s where Patrick came by his penchant for pet names.
“What line of work are you in, Norah?” asked Tom.
“She’s a waitress,” said Renee. “I read those news articles to you, remember?”
“Yes, I am. Or I was.” I forced a smile on my face. “I, ah . . .”
“She’s taking some time off right now to be with me,” said Patrick. “But she’s been thinking about doing some online college courses.”
“Great idea,” enthused Renee.
“I’m still looking into it.” I nodded. “It wouldn’t have worked, me being at the restaurant with all of the media interest in your son and me.”
“No, of course not,” said Tom. “They’re damn vultures, aren’t they?”
Renee shook her head. “We even had some outside our house after all of that nonsense that we’re not talking about happened. It was awful.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Patrick’s frown was back in place. Dammit.
“Yes, well . . . we all survived.” Renee crossed her arms. “The media are a necessary evil, unfortunately. They’re not going to go away for as long as Paddy’s in the business of making movies. Will you be able to handle that?”
“Yes,” I said.
They both waited for more. Sheesh. Even Patrick just watched me.
“I’m not saying I like or enjoy it.” I shrugged. “And I’m sure you’re both aware of the picture of me that was released without my consent today.”
For once, Renee had nothing to say. Perhaps that was best.
“That’s been awful. In so many ways.”
“You are not to blame,” said Tom, face serious.
“I know.” My smile felt brittle as fuck. “But it’s all part of the attention that’s put on me and Patrick. It’s no more his fault than it is mine that the picture is out there. But I’d be stupid to ignore that these things are going to happen if I continue to be involved with him.”
Patrick’s lips were a flat unhappy line.
“No one has ever listened to me like your son does. No male at least. Not in a long time,” I confessed. “And he never dismisses or diminishes my opinions, whether he agrees with them or not. He cares about my feelings and he has my back. These things may seem . . . small in a way. Trivial, almost. Like, everyone should be kind and thoughtful and respect other human beings. The thing is, not everyone does.”
The edges of his mouth curled up just a little.
I grinned. “And when I make him smile, even the tiniest bit, I feel like a fucking champion.”
Renee promptly burst into happy tears.
Tom’s eyes were also suspiciously bright. “Sweetie.”
“I think you won them over,” mumbled Patrick.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I don’t know that what I said was especially romantic or anything.” I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking deep thoughts. So much better than being freaked out over this new and even more anxiety-ridden situation.
“No,” agreed Patrick, emerging from the bathroom on a cloud of steam. While his sleep pants were on, his shirt was most definitely off. Made for a hell of a view. All of the dips and planes of his sculpted chest. All of it leading down to a faint line of hair from his navel. And now that I looked, there was a definite dick imprint in the soft cotton of those pants. It was a struggle to not be a pervert and keep my eyes on his face. “But what you said came across as genuine. That’s more important to some.”