Chapter Eight
The morning was a reset.
Dark clouds had come in overnight, but it still might not rain.
Patrick made breakfast (omelets). I’d slept in, so he got up from watching the morning news to cook for me. Guess I hadn’t alienated him too badly.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Huddled in my fluffy robe, I focused on my food. He went in his room for a while. I changed the channel. Hoped he’d leave me alone.
He came back out with his bicycle. “I’m going to run some errands.”
“Okay.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
I’d usually gotten dressed by now in his experience. “Maybe I’m getting a cold or something.”
“Ah. Feel better, Jess.” He rolled the bike to the door.
The only thing sick was my heart. Or my head. Whatever part of me it was that couldn’t stop wanting more from him than bein
