in love with the least emotionally available person I knew.
It took me a while to realize my mistake and fix it. Separating myself from him had nearly killed me, but I did it. I learned not to let the pain of being next to him every day show on my face. I hid behind my professionalism. I did everything I could think of to wait it out, convinced that I would move past it. But the truth was that I still loved him. I love him even now. But it wasn’t a healthy kind of love.
I loved Patrick the way addicts love getting high. I knew he was no good for me. I knew it was a bad move. I knew it would destroy me in the end. But I couldn’t hold back. I was like a moth drawn to an open flame. Although I thought I did a pretty good job of avoiding him, somehow I was right back at square one. Love him. Sleeping with him. Letting him make promises I knew he couldn’t keep. At least this time he wasn’t also my boss. One complication eliminated, only a billion left to go.
Loving Patrick Dunlevy is a sure-fire way to end up in pain and I don’t need any more of that. The Dunlevys all have the same problem. They’re all liars. Mostly, and most importantly, they lie to themselves. Mr. Dunlevy tells himself that he doesn’t care whether or not his son is happy as long as he is successful. Once he’s successful enough he’s sure Patrick will thank him. Patrick tells himself that he doesn’t care...about anything or anybody.
So how was I supposed to react when he admitted to having real feelings for me and asked me to wait for him? It was like something out of a John Waters movie, and although I am too old to believe in fairy tales from the 1980s, I wanted to believe him.
So, I did. I relapsed. I tumbled into bed like an idiot without the benefit of being too drunk to remember or take responsibility. I’d gone willingly to the gallows and I was already regretting it.
“Are you okay? You feel a little hot,” he pressed his palm to my forehead without actually opening his eyes.
Pain. I reminded myself. Patrick Dunlevy will bring you nothing but pain.
“I’m okay. I just need to use the toilet and take my meds.”
“Does your foot hurt?”
“I’ll be okay,” I said, getting out of bed as quickly as I dared. I made my way to the bathroom as best as I could without looking like an idiot. It’s hard to look cool with your foot in a cast. Luckily, Patrick kept his eyes closed and settled deeper into the pillows as I left.
I took another dose of pain killers and gave myself a ten-minute pep talk about not putting all my eggs in one basket, particularly if that basket was Patrick Dunlevy.
Out of habit, on my way back to bed, I checked my phone for any new messages. I really shouldn’t have had much to check. Mrs. Moraz was doing one hell of a job and really didn’t need much help from me. I felt good leaving the day to day functions of the office in her capable hands. Wrangling Patrick into shape was another job altogether, yet she seemed to be doing well. Something told me that he was being on his best behavior while I was still around, and her hardest days with him were still yet to come.
So, imagine my shock when I discovered that not only was my phone still on airplane mode but as soon as I restored connectivity I was bombarded by messages from both Mrs. Moraz and Mr. Dunlevy, Patrick’s father. Before I had a chance to see what the news was the phone rang in my hand. It was from Mr. Dunlevy’s private line so I knew it must be serious. Not wanting to wake Patrick before I had a chance to get the details of the situation I scooted back into the bathroom.
“Good morning, sir,” I answered the phone, nearly breathless.
“Jesus Christ, R-Ramirez. Where in the hell have you been?” He made a valiant attempt at rolling his R’s whenever he said my name. It never came out right, sounding more like a stammer than an authentic accent, but it was nice of him to try.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said blankly. In reality, it didn’t matter what my reasons or where I was, he