Will & Patrick Wake Up Married (11 page)

The streets are mostly empty this early in the morning, though there are a few cars on the road and a flurry of people outside Brown Gargle for coffee. Will trudges ahead, spying the Good Works building. It’s a new stone and brick one-story full of office space built on the site of a former strip mall. In Will’s opinion, the building is a nice addition to the town: classic, sturdy. And the location can’t be beat. It’s close to the hospital, Old Healing, and the Tallgrass. And it isn’t far from the Methodist church where AA meetings are held twice daily in the basement.

Like a lot of small towns, Healing has its fair share of alcoholics and other addicts.

Will has dedicated employees, but it’s not yet eight in the morning, so the parking lot of Good Works is empty and Will’s BMW is right where he left it. Snug in his coat and heated car, he drives the short distance to Eleanora’s house.

When Eleanora Molinaro arrived in Healing thirty years ago, the house she chose reflected the new life she intended to live. In the old money neighborhood of Langershire, she purchased a two-story Sears Alhambra built in the twenties and massively renovated and enlarged it. It’s one of the oldest houses remaining in Healing.

As Will parks the car, he considers his grandmother’s home. It’s as classically beautiful as she is herself. To the right, set off behind the large, currently hibernating rose garden, is a guest cottage with a full kitchen, its own back entrance, and separate drive. It’s a perfect location for him to hide away with his strange new husband.

He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, cold air stinging his nostrils as he heads to the front door. His heart pounds. The ground sways beneath his feet. He presses the bell and within moments, Reba, his grandmother’s “woman” (what that means, he’s never quite sure), opens the door, still in her robe, and yawning. The gray in her dark hair glints in the morning sun, and her walnut eyes blink sleepily until she recognizes him.

“William! Come in, come in. Your grandmother’ll be so pleased to see you. She thought you were traveling this week in Nevada.”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“No, we’re up. Having coffee and breakfast. Come along.” She takes his coat and hangs it in the entryway closet.

Reba’s been part of Will’s life for as long as he can remember. When he was little, she fed him crispy strips of bacon and told him Lakota stories her grandfather taught her. While Reba lives in his grandmother’s home, Will’s never understood the nature of their relationship. They sleep in the same bed at times, but his mother says that’s just loneliness. Will’s not sure of that at all, yet Eleanora is more apt to treat Reba as a servant than a friend or a lover.

It is what it is.
Will decided that years ago, and he thinks it again as he follows Reba’s slender back down the spotless hallway to the sunny breakfast room.

“William, darling!” Eleanora exclaims. Her blond hair with gray streaks is curled into an elegant bob, and her makeup is freshly applied. She sits at the table wearing a cream pantsuit, and Will suddenly wants to ask if Reba dresses her, but that’s absurd.

“Hello, Nonna.”

“Kisses.”

Will crosses the sunny room, the scent of coffee and warm bread in his nose. He bends down to receive his kiss on the cheek. As he straightens, Eleanora grabs him by the collar and glares into his eyes.

“Out with it. What’ve you done? I recognize that look. It’s your I-have-a-confession expression.”

Reba snatches up her coffee and plate of jellied toast and leaves the room as quickly as if she’d been dismissed.

As soon as the door is shut behind her, Will admits, “Yeah, Nonna. I messed up.”

She sighs and pats his cheek. “Sit down. Tell me everything. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eleanora’s not impressed with his screw-up, to say the least. By the time she’s done lecturing him and very successfully guilt tripping him over the danger of binge drinking with diabetes, haranguing him about his irresponsible and reckless behavior, and most embarrassingly, insisting on the importance of safe sex at all times, Will feels about three inches tall.

With an air of taking pity on him, she draws the lecture to a close. “Now the important question, darling,” Eleanora says, pouring herself some more coffee from an ornate pot. “Is he handsome, this Dr. McCloud?”

“
Nonna
.”

Eleanora chuckles. “Well, I can see from your face that he is. I look forward to meeting the man who inspired my grandson to such heights of foolishness.” There’s a hint of threat underlying her warm words. “In the meantime, I’ll make a few calls, see what I can discover.”

“Can I ask you for another favor?”

“You’re being quite brave, darling, after your ridiculous shenanigans. But you know your Nonna can’t say no to you, don’t you? What do you need?”

“It would raise alarm bells if the Molinaros found out I’m not exactly head over heels for my new husband. We need somewhere to stay until we can get this situation resolved. Obviously, we can’t stay at Mom’s or Grandma Betty’s. It’d be suspicious for newlyweds to not want a place where they can be alone. The Tallgrass is doable, and the expense isn’t a problem, but it’s very public. I was hoping we could move into your guest cottage. Temporarily, of course.”

Getting Patrick out of the Tallgrass and to a more private location seems key to continuing the charade long enough to manage the divorce. Will’s not sure how many more situations like the one with Perry he can endure. Not to mention, the idea of being crammed into a hotel suite day in and day out with Patrick makes him feel a little faint. He wonders briefly if he can still keep the Molinaro’s trust money if he murders Patrick. He’s pretty sure there’s no Molinaro stipulation against
that
. Murder’s always been a viable Molinaro alternative to accepting the consequences of any situation that’s gone wrong.

“I wish I was able to say yes, but I’m afraid I’m having the place renovated. It’s completely gutted inside at the moment. If you’re still married this spring, though, you’re welcome to move in.”

“Oh,” Will says, crestfallen.
“I guess we’ll just stick with the Tallgrass for now. With any luck this will all be over in a few weeks, right?”

“I’ll do my best, darling. But we both know the Molinaro family.” She chuckles. “Oh, what a shock I had when I married into that bunch! They’re impetuous but thorough. When they want something, they’ll do anything to get it, and the consequences of trying to circumvent their family codes, or doing anything to violate their precious ‘honor’? Well, it can end badly. It might even be dangerous.”

“I know.” Will presses his lips together. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in anything that could get anyone hurt, Nonna. So, please, if it looks like it’s verging on that kind of thing, just let it go. I’ll figure out another way.”

“And what way would that be, Will? Offing Dr. McCloud? Please. You don’t have it in you to do something like that. For which I thank God, by the way. You are nothing like Tony, blood be damned.”
Eleanora sips her coffee. “No, it might take some time, but I’ll give this my undivided attention.”

“Thank you, Nonna.” Will kisses her cheek. “And please don’t say anything to Mom until I get a chance to talk to her. She needs to hear it from me.”

“Spoil my fun.” Eleanora pouts. “Well, all right, but you’d better tell her soon, because news spreads like wildfire in this town. That is, I suppose, the point of you telling the hotel employees all about it. Word will get back to the Molinaros that you’re happily bedding down in the honeymoon suite. Good thinking. But you’ll have to be careful who you let in on the truth of this secret.”

“Mom can be trusted.”

“Of course she can. And your uncle too. But not the children. They’re too young for secrets this heavy.”

“I agree.”

“And, well, I’m also thinking of…well, darling, what about Ryan?”

Will bites his lower lip and shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. “It won’t be a problem.”

“I know the boy broke up with you. What a stupid young man. I can’t begin to know your problems, but really? Darling, he’s an idiot.”

“Nonna…”

“Will, I know you care for him, but you can’t possibly be honest with him. It’s too big a risk, especially when his loyalty isn’t guaranteed.”

“Ryan still cares about me,” Will says, but there’s a whole lot of doubt on that point swirling inside. “He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize—”

“Darling, don’t fool yourself.” Eleanora sniffs. She’s never liked Ryan much. “No, William, this is something you can’t trust him with. You’ll have to make him believe, like everyone else, that this is a love match.”

“Come on, like that’s even possible. He knows me too well.”

“You’ll just have to be very, very convincing, won’t you? I don’t think I need to remind you what’s at stake here. You’ve got to act your butt off, do you hear me?”

Will nods. He slumps in his chair, trying to make himself small; make himself stronger by taking up less room.

Eleanora comes around the table and Will hugs her close, smelling her perfumed hair and clinging hard.

“There, there, darling. This is quite the bungle, but we’ll make it through. In the meantime, you take care of yourself. No more drinking, do you understand? Or do you need some help in that regard? A stay in rehab might do you some good?”

Will pulls away and shakes his head. She searches his eyes. “Good. I know you can cope with this, William. It’s going to take some time. This is a delicate situation and I can’t rush into it making demands. The Molinaros don’t like demands.”

“A month?”

“Maybe more.”

“
More
than a month?”

“Hush. Some messes take longer to clean up than others. Just have heart and be patient. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” But he’s not so sure about Patrick.
 

Chapter Six
 

Will needs some liquid bravery before confessing everything to his mom, and since he’s absolutely back on the wagon, that’s going to have to come in the form of caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

He parks back at Good Works and heads for the only coffee shop in town. Brown Gargle is relatively new but built to resemble a Wild West saloon. It’s all wood on the outside, with a front porch to drink iced coffee on in the summer. It even has fake batwings painted onto the weatherproof glass doors. It’s thirty-six degrees and overcast, snowflakes spiraling slowly down as he walks. It’s not cold enough yet for them to stick, but before long snow will start to accumulate. In January, they’ll have some real depth for sure, but with flurries this early, the chances of a white Christmas have gone up.

Will sighs. The Christmas decorations around town depress him even more. It’s as though the wreaths, bows, and tall Christmas tree in the middle of Old Healing are mocking him with their brightness. He’s already got Ryan’s present. He’s had it for months, and now he’s not sure he can even give it to him—or if Ryan will even want it.

As he enters Brown Gargle, Christmas cheer pours into his ears in the form of “Joy to the World” performed by a chorus of small children. His eyes sting and his throat goes tight.

“The usual?” Jax asks. He’s Will’s favorite barista, what with his sexy way of leaning against the counter, his black hair buzzed neatly, and his dark eyes always sparkling with warmth. He comes in from the reservation for the work. And Will’s always thought it’s too bad the guy is straight.

“I’m not sure. Give me a minute.”

“No problem.” He wipes down the counter and starts to organize the shelf of tiny personal, multi-colored teapots. Jax looks over at him. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your hands are shaking. And people are talking about you.”

Will shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “What’ve you heard?”

“I don’t listen to gossip. I just hear names. Yours has come up a lot this morning.”

Will’s heart pounds and he tries to pull himself together. “Yeah, well…”

Jax smiles. “Just take care, okay? You’re a good guy. We like you around here.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Will clears his throat, blushing a little, and looks over the menu hanging over the wooden bar-cum-coffee-counter.

Normally, he orders the Buckaroo size of the Medium Roast Brown Gargle, which is Wild West speak for coffee. It’s small but energizing. If he’s overtired, he gets the Bangtail size: medium and super-charging. Today? Today he’s going to order a Bronco Buster of the Dark Roast because if his heart explodes from caffeine overload at least he’ll be out of his misery.

He places his suicidal request and while Jax pours his drink, he lingers over all the Christmas-themed pastries. Snowmen gingerbread cookies appear especially enticing. But he hasn’t worked out in days now, not really. Sex doesn’t count. He shouldn’t eat one no matter how good they look. He forces his gaze away from the luring treats. He needs to collect Patrick and get over to his mother’s house before the gossip does. But he’s not ready to face the music.

Turning to see if his favorite table in the front corner is open, Will sucks in a breath, gut-punched. The room tilts and he grabs the edge of the counter, his head swimming and bile rising in his throat.