One Immortal - Tia Louise Page 0,80

my gums burned with hunger for him. Skipping ahead, I remember the night I stole a taste, pulling his essence into me. I remember the explosion of pleasure as he filled me.

“Ahh!” my orgasm breaks through my thighs, leaving me shuddering in its wake. I slide down to my side on the couch, lowering my laptop to the floor. My knees are bent, and I’m curled in a little ball savoring the afterglow of my memories.

It’s bittersweet, and a little tear runs down my nose. “Please come back to me, my love.” It’s a broken cry in the night. “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

I don’t move as I lie curled in my blanket dreaming of him, wishing with everything in me I had his strong arms to hold me. Praying one day I’ll have him again.

* * *

The school parking lot is empty when I arrive for my meeting with the principal. Elaine is an eighth grade teacher at one of the top private schools in the state, and she insisted I make an appointment to meet her administrative staff. No amount of arguing they don’t need my help mattered.

“I can’t be best friends with a genius marketing expert and not have her consult with my business!”

I’d only laughed at her exaggeration and agreed to make an appointment. I’ve never worked in school promotions, but I figure how different can it be?

Making my way through the parking lot, digging in my bag like Mary Poppins, I don’t see the solid wall of man before I walk right into it.

“Whoa!” Patrick laughs, catching my arms to prevent my fall. “You should really keep your eyes on the road, there.”

“Patrick!” I gasp. For whatever reason, he’s avoided me since Derek left me in New Orleans. Of course, I knew he and Elaine were still together.

“What are you doing here?” I say.

He’s dressed in loose khakis and a polo (untucked, of course), and his sun-kissed light-brown hair moves with the breeze. He looks like he just stepped off a surfboard—or he’s on his way to step on one.

He squints. “Visiting Elaine?”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

That makes him laugh, and his green-hazel eyes sparkle. “I’m telling you. I just… didn’t want to rub it in your face.”

“You are not rubbing it in my face. I couldn’t be more happy you and Elaine are together.”

“Right.” The hand moves to his front pocket, and he seems uncomfortable.

I can’t help it, I have to know. “H-how is he?” Shaking my head, I look down. “I mean, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I’m not trying to make you spy or be disloyal—”

“He’s doing okay, I guess.” His voice is thoughtful, serious. “He’s not seeing anyone, naturally.”

I can’t even begin to express how happy that little revelation makes me.

“Still…”

And with one word, he sends it all crashing down. “Still?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“He’s so lonely for you.”

The case I’m carrying drops to the pavement. Instinctively, my arms wrap around my midsection as the ache of longing pulls me so hard. I lean against the car behind me.

“Oh, Patrick.” It’s all I can say. Every heartbeat sends pain through my insides. “I miss him so much.”

I’m instantly pulled into a hug. The sunny warmth of Patrick is actually very comforting, and for a moment, we simply stand there. When the wave of emotion has passed, his arms loosen, and he steps back.

“This is going to work out, you know?” He touches my chin and gives me a little smile. “It has to.”

“Does it?” I’m wiping the tears out of my eyes with my fingertips and realizing I’ll have to reschedule my appointment with the principal. “Sometimes it’s harder to believe.”

“Don’t you give up. If we were able to save you, we’ll be able to save him.”

Blinking back a fresh onslaught of tears, I nod. “Thank you, Patrick.”

Lifting my case, I make my way back to my car.

19

Revenge

Melissa

My mother calls as I’m driving back to my beach cottage. The emotion from my encounter with Patrick is fresh in my voice, and she insists on joining me for dinner at my place. I’ve always found it impossible to tell her no, especially after my dad died.

Hours later, we’re holding large crystal goblets, finishing up glasses of red wine and chatting about the pending holiday season. It’s difficult keeping her ignorant of all that happened in New Orleans. Still, I can’t possibly share those events with her.

“Speaking of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners…” Her dark eyes