Chapter Two
I’d barely opened the door when Patrick was there taking Chinese takeout bags from my hands. The politeness tripped me up and I could barely stammer out a thank-you.
He lifted boxes out of the bags while I grabbed plates. And a fork. I’d never mastered chopsticks; a fact Ros never missed an opportunity to tease me about.
My apartment was too small for a dining table, not that I entertained much, but there was a tiny cafe table and two chairs on the balcony left by the previous tenant.
Ros and I always ate on the sofa in front of a movie.
“Probably looks like a lot of food, but I always order enough for leftovers.”
“I couldn’t reach Rosalind,” he said.
“Yeah, she hasn’t replied to my texts, either. There’s water, of course, and I might have a beverage or two in my empty f
