Nineteen Minutes Read online

  "I can feel you staring, you know," Patrick murmured. A lazy smile heated his face, but his eyes were still shut.

  Alex leaned over, slipping her hand under the covers. "What can you feel?"

  "What can't I?" Striking quick as lightning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her underneath him. His eyes, still softened by sleep, were a crisp blue that made Alex think of glaciers and northern seas. He kissed her, and she vined around him.

  Then suddenly her eyes snapped open. "Oh, shit," she said.

  "That wasn't really what I was going for . . ."

  "Do you know what time it is?"

  They had drawn the shades in her bedroom because of a full moon last night. But by now, the sun was streaming through the thinnest crack at the bottom of the windowsill. Alex could hear Josie banging pots and pans downstairs in the kitchen.

  Patrick reached over Alex for the wristwatch he'd left on her nightstand. "Oh, shit," he repeated, and he threw back the covers. "I'm an hour late for work already."

  He grabbed his boxers as Alex jumped out of bed and reached for her robe. "What about Josie?"

  It wasn't that they had been hiding their relationship from Josie--Patrick often dropped by after work or for dinner or to hang out in the evenings. A few times, Alex had tried to talk to Josie about him, to see what she thought of the whole miracle of her mother dating again, but Josie did whatever it took to avoid having that conversation. Alex wasn't sure herself where this was all going, but she did know that she and Josie had been a unit for so long that adding Patrick to the mix meant Josie became the loner--and right now, Alex was determined to keep that from happening. She was making up for lost time, really, thinking of Josie before she thought of anything else. To that end, if Patrick spent the night, she made sure he left before Josie could wake up to find him there.

  Except today, when it was a lazy summer Thursday and nearly ten o'clock.

  "Maybe this is a good time to tell her," Patrick suggested.

  "Tell her what?"

  "That we're . . ." He looked at her.

  Alex stared at him. She couldn't finish his sentence; she didn't really know the answer herself. She never expected that this was the way she and Patrick would have this conversation. Was she with Patrick because he was good at that--rescuing the underdog who needed it? When this trial was over, would he move on? Would she?

  "We're together," Patrick said decisively.

  Alex turned her back to him and yanked shut the tie of her robe. That wasn't, to paraphrase Patrick earlier, what she had been going for. But then again, how would he know that? If he asked her right now what she wanted out of this relationship . . . well, she knew: she wanted love. She wanted to have someone to come home to. She wanted to dream about a vacation they'd take when they were sixty and know he'd be there the day she stepped onto the plane. But she'd never admit any of this to him. What if she did, and he just looked at her blankly? What if it was too soon to think about things like this?

  If he asked her right now, she wouldn't answer, because answering was the surest way to get your heart handed back to you.

  Alex rummaged underneath the bed, searching for her slippers. Instead, she located Patrick's belt and tossed it to him. Maybe the reason she hadn't openly told Josie she was sleeping with Patrick had nothing to do with protecting Josie, and everything to do with protecting herself.

  Patrick threaded the belt through his jeans. "It doesn't have to be a state secret," he said. "You are allowed to . . . you know."

  Alex glanced at him. "Have sex?"

  "I was trying to come up with something a little less blunt," Patrick admitted.

  "I'm also allowed to keep things private," Alex pointed out.

  "Guess I ought to get back the deposit on the billboard, then."

  "That might be a good idea."

  "I suppose I could just get you jewelry instead."

  Alex looked down at the carpet so that Patrick couldn't see her trying to pick apart that sentence, find the commitment strung between the words.

  God, was it always this frustrating when you weren't the one running the show?

  "Mom," Josie yelled up the stairs, "I've got pancakes ready, if you want some."

  "Look," Patrick sighed. "We can still keep Josie from finding out. All you have to do is distract her while I sneak out."

  She nodded. "I'll try to keep her in the kitchen. You . . ." She glanced at Patrick. "Just hurry." As Alex started out of the room, Patrick grabbed her hand and yanked.

  "Hey," he said. "Good-bye." He leaned down and kissed her.

  "Mom, they're getting cold!"

  "See you later," Alex said, pushing away.

  She hurried downstairs and found Josie eating a plate of blueberry pancakes. "Those smell so good . . . I can't believe I slept this late," Alex began, and then she realized that there were three place settings at the kitchen table.

  Josie folded her arms. "So how does he take his coffee?"

  Alex sank into a chair across from her. "You weren't supposed to find out."

  "A. I am a big girl. B. Then the brilliant detective shouldn't have left his car in the driveway."

  Alex picked at a thread on the place mat. "No milk, two sugars."

  "Well," Josie said. "Guess I'll know for next time."

  "How do you feel about that?" Alex asked quietly.

  "Getting him coffee?"

  "No. The next time part."

  Josie poked at a fat blueberry on the top of her pancake. "It's not really something I get to choose, is it?"

  "Yes," Alex said. "Because if you're not all right with this, Josie, then I'll stop seeing him."

  "You like him?" Josie asked, staring down at her plate.

  "Yeah."

  "And he likes you?"

  "I think so."

  Josie lifted her gaze. "Then you shouldn't worry about what anyone else thinks."

  "I worry about what you think," Alex said. "I don't want you to feel like you're any less important to me because of him."

  "Just be responsible," Josie answered, with a slow smile. "Every time you have sex, you can get pregnant or you can not get pregnant. That's fifty-fifty."

  Alex raised her brows. "Wow. I didn't even think you were listening when I gave that speech."

  Josie pressed her finger against a spot of maple syrup that had fallen onto the table, her eyes trained on the wood. "So, do you . . . like . . . love him?"

  The words seemed bruised, tender. "No," Alex said quickly, because if she could convince Josie, then she surely could convince herself that what she felt for Patrick had everything to do with passion and nothing to do with . . . well . . . that. "It's only been a few months."

  "I don't think there's a grace period," Josie said.

  Alex decided that the best road to take through this minefield was the one that would keep both Josie and herself from being hurt: pretend this was nothing, a fling, a fancy. "I wouldn't know what being in love felt like if it hit me in the face," she said lightly.

  "It's not like on TV, like everything's perfect all of a sudden." Josie's voice shrank until it was barely a thought. "It's more like, once it happens, you spend all your time realizing how much can go wrong."

  Alex looked up at her, frozen. "Oh, Josie."

  "Anyway."

  "I didn't mean to make you--"

  "Let's just drop it, okay?" Josie forced a smile. "He's not bad-looking, you know, for someone that old."

  "He's a year younger than I am," Alex pointed out.

  "My mother, the cradle robber." Josie picked up the plate of pancakes and passed it. "These are getting cold."

  Alex took the plate. "Thank you," she said, but she held Josie's gaze just long enough for her daughter to realize what Alex was really grateful for.

  Just then Patrick came creeping down the stairs. At the landing, he turned to give Alex a thumbs-up sign. "Patrick," she called out. "Josie's made us some pancakes."

  *

  Selena knew the party line--you