Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (7 page)

“I am. All right, yes, relying on Ryan let me get back to my own life. But Will, I trusted Ryan because you encouraged me to. You promised he was what you wanted, that he was good for you. You swore he kept you safe. You said he took care of you. And you always said the fights were your fault. You blamed yourself. You claimed he wasn’t the problem, you were. Was I supposed to think you were lying?”

“Yes! You didn’t believe anything else I said, why believe that? Because it made your life easier! And, yeah, you should have had more faith in me than I had in myself. I’m your son!”

“How? When you’ve acted out so much over the years! Everything you told me about your behavior and Ryan’s part in your life was in line with what I’d seen in your past. I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear that.”

Will stares at her, his breath heavy as a horse’s after a long run. “Do you want to know the truth about Ryan?”

She blanches and looks away.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you dirty details. But when I say now that Ryan wasn’t good to me, you need to believe me. If you were willing to believe me back then, be willing to believe me now.”

“Listen to yourself. You’re admitting that you lied to me about Ryan but now you want me to believe you about Patrick. Don’t you see my conundrum?”

Will rubs his hands over his face. “Things are different now. Patrick’s good to me. As a friend, as a husband, and, yes, as a lover.”

“I don’t understand your attraction to him.”

“We might not be typical lovers but we’re care about each other. For the first time in my life, I’m proud of who I am and what I feel when I’m with him.”

Kimberly’s eyes go wide. “Are you…” She shudders a little before continuing. “Are you saying you think you’re in love with him?”

“No, I’m saying I’m gay and I’m finally okay with that.”

Kimberly reaches out to take his hand again, but Will pulls back. “I’ve always been okay with you being gay, honey.”

“No, you haven’t.” He puts out a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Don’t disagree with me. You were okay with me being gay so long as I met a very specific standard of behavior in my relationships. A standard neither you nor Dad have ever come close to living up to, and it’s really unfair to ask anyone to aim for, especially a young person who’s trying to figure themselves out.”

“I just wanted—”

“To keep me safe. I know. And I’m telling you, I am safe with Patrick. I can finally explore this part of myself. I’m not going to give that up because, for some reason, he scares you. I deserve to be accepted for who I am, where I am, right here and now. And Patrick does that.”

“But he doesn’t love you!”

“I don’t want him to love me!”

She stares at Will with her eyes shining with tears. “Baby, maybe you deserve to accept this…this side of yourself, but let me tell you: you also deserve to be loved.”

“Sure. One day, I’ll want to the whole package with someone.”
Maybe even with Patrick if he’s emotionally capable of it. God, how amazing would that be? It would be perfect. We could—

Giving his head a mental shake to stop daydreaming about a future he can’t have, Will adds, “But for right now, I don’t want anything more than what I’ve got. I’m happy. And you’ve potentially ruined that. You’ve put my happiness and Patrick’s life at risk. For no good reason other than you don’t like him.”

“You’re absolutely right. I
don’t
like him.”

“That’s too bad. Because it’s not your choice.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You always do, Mom. You have such a blind spot for your own actions. Just leave Patrick—and me—alone. Focus some attention on your other children. They’re the ones who need you right now.”

Kimberly lowers her gaze. “What about your father?”

“I’ll handle him.” Will hopes he can. He has a plan, but he’s not sure his father will believe him over his mother. He’ll have to get Eleanora’s help and hope for the best. God, he could really use a drink right now.

No
.

No. He’ll be just fine once he’s back at the Tallgrass with Patrick in their cocoon. That’s all he really needs.

“Will, I want to trust you, but it’s so hard.”

“I know. I’ve let you down a lot, but at this point you really have to back off from my life. You’ve let me down a lot too.”

The conversation falls into awkward silence. He gets out his testing kit and checks his blood glucose, frustrated to find it’s dropping too quickly again. He motions for the barista and asks for two bottles of apple juice, one for now and one to go.

Kimberly watches him. “When do you see Dr. Anastasia?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” She sighs when he shakes his head no. “Well, at least let me know what he says.”

Will shrugs. A childish, angry part of him wants to deny her, but the grownup in him wins out. “All right. I’ll text you.”

“I miss when we didn’t fight.”

Will smiles tightly. “Stay out of my business and we won’t.”

The barista drops the juice by the table and Will pays her, screwing off the lid and taking a swallow. He stands, pulling on his coat and gloves, pocketing the extra juice. He hooks his murse over his shoulder and then stoops to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I love you. But if Dad hurts Patrick, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You do love him,” Kimberly murmurs, looking up at him with confused astonishment.

He frowns. “He’s my father.”

“I was talking about Patrick.”

“Oh, I don’t—” Will’s skin feels too tight. He clears his throat and shakes his head hard once. “No, but he is important to me. I expect you to treat him with respect.”

Anger flashes in her eyes and she grits her teeth. “I’ll try. It’d be easier if he—”

“Let’s just stop with you’ll try.” He smiles, saccharine and full of rage. “And let’s hope he lives long enough for you to make the attempt.”

He leaves her then without waiting for a response. He needs to talk to his grandmother immediately. If anyone can put the kibosh on Tony’s potentially murderous intentions, it’s Eleanora. There’s just something about an angry Italian mother to make a grown man shake in his boots. Tony’s no exception.

The bitter winter wind bites into his skin as Will finds a bench to sit down and test his blood again. It’s higher after the juice, but still not high enough. He cracks open the next juice and sips it as he walks toward his car to drive to his Nonna’s house.

He shoots a text off to Patrick:
Everything okay?

The bubbles indicating Patrick is thumbing in a reply linger on his screen a few moments.
Great. Watching
MasterChef
. I want calzones for dinner. How’s Mommy?

Will’s not going to get into it by text. So he types:
Annoying. Heading to Nonna’s now.

Patrick replies.
Just talked to her. She’s going to pull strings for the Hammond sitch.

Will smiles.
That’s good news. Stay in the hotel. It’s probably nothing, but I don’t want you out and about. I’ll explain later.

The reply comes quickly and dripping with self-pity.
Where would I go? No brains to cut into, no patients, no life.

Will snorts.
Hang in there.
He starts to type
I love you
but he catches his breath and quickly erases the sentence, regaining his sanity.

Instead he sends:
I’ll bring calzones.
 

Will sits across from Eleanora in her lushly decorated home office watching her do what she usually does best: get what she wants. He snacks on a turkey and Swiss sandwich Reba brings him from the kitchen and listens hopefully to his grandmother’s end of the conversation.

“Ron, you must grasp the urgency of the situation. Dr. McCloud is uniquely skilled. He has patients who are quite literally dying for his expertise, and yet he’s a prisoner of this unreasonable, not to say ridiculous, lawsuit and the hospital’s regulations.”

Eleanora winks at Will and he smiles.

“Surely the board could call an emergency hearing. You have that power.” Eleanora sighs. She makes a face at Will and waves her hand in a combination of “damn” and “don’t worry.” “I see. Well, if that’s the best you can do—of course, of course. Absolutely, Ron. No good deed unpunished.” She laughs and hangs up.

Will leans forward, his stomach in a knot. “Well?”

“Well…” Eleanora shakes her head sympathetically.

He slumps back in his seat, mustard from the sandwich tangy on his tongue.
Patrick is going to be so disappointed.

“No, no, darling, don’t you worry. It’s going to be fine. Unfortunately, it’s going to be a week before it’s fine. Ron tells me Bruce, you remember him? Bruce Williamson? He’s the president of the board, and no decision can be made final without his very literal stamp of approval.”

“So?”

Eleanora puffs and rolls her eyes. “So he’s in a small fishing village in rural China, apparently. Adopting a daughter. His wife’s infertile. It’s been a challenge.”

Will blinks. “What does this mean for Patrick?”

“Bruce will be back next week, though, darling, and then your doctor can get back in the operating room.”

Will lets out a sharp sigh and sets the plate scattered with the crumbs of the sandwich aside. “Crap.”

“Surely your young man can wait that long, sweetheart. I know he’s just itching to get his fingers in some brains, as he likes to say, but there’s nothing to be done for it at the moment. Patience. It’s not my favorite event, but those who’re good at it tell me it pays off.”

Will opens his murse and gets ready to test himself again. His blood sugar has been too wonky to trust, but he’s starting to feel like a pincushion. “Thanks, Nonna. I just hope Patrick’s patients can wait that long too. In the meantime, we have another problem.”

She clucks her tongue. “What problem must Nonna solve for you now, darling?”

Will meets her eye. “Tony’s in town.”

She runs her hands over her silvery-blond bob and smooths it down. “I’m well aware. He’s invited me to dinner tomorrow evening at the Meadowlands. He said he’s meeting with you and Patrick.” She rolls her eyes skyward. “He invited Reba too, but she declined. She’s never quite forgiven him for a little stunt he pulled on her ages ago.”

“Did it involve a gun?”

“Indeed it did,” Eleanora says grimly. “He is a schoolyard bully at times. It’s not something I’m proud of, mind you.”

After sticking himself and testing, Will is satisfied with the reading, so he packs his kit back up again. “Dad and two of his men grabbed me and Patrick in an alley last night. Dad held a gun to Patrick’s head. It turned out to be unloaded and he said it was a joke. I didn’t find it funny.”

“Neither did poor, dear Patrick, I’m sure.” Eleanora leans back in her chair, turning thoughtful. “My understanding is your mother called him into town.”

Will squeezes his hands into fists to keep his voice calm. “Yep. And guess what? She told him our marriage was fake. She wants him to help us get out of it.”

“Impatient, impetuous fool,” Eleanora whispers, her eyes glinting sharply. “Never mind her idiocy. I’m not convinced she’s succeeded in creating the problem you’re no doubt imagining.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father told me over the phone about seeing you and Patrick together last night—though he left out the part his gun played in the scene—and that you were both, in his opinion, quite clearly in love.”

“What? That’s absurd.”

“Is it? Something’s changed, that’s for sure. Nonna isn’t a fool, darling.”

Will blinks as vibrating panic shoots through his veins. “We’ve…become close.” He swallows and looks away from Eleanora’s knowing gaze. “Really close.”

“Intimately close?”

“Yes.” He braces himself.

Nonna cackles and throws her head back, laughing. “Oh, sweet William, good for you. Good. For. You!”

Will gapes at her, embarrassed heat rushing up his neck and stinging his cheeks.