No Sacrifice Page 14

  “Da will still be here in the morning, bud. Come on.”

  “Can Da give me my bath?” he asked hopefully. Patrick kept his mouth shut, almost hoping Emily wouldn’t want to give it up.

  “Sure,” she said, and he let out a quiet sigh.

  It took both of them to wrestle him into the bathroom, anyway. Avery was still insisting he didn’t need one, despite the tomato sauce and cheese in his hair and the two more pieces of pepperoni they found in his underwear. Emily assured Patrick that Avery wasn’t this messy all the time. It was a pizza thing.

  Patrick didn’t much care. He was still too happy to have his son back.

  He finally got Avery into the water, and by the time the boy was clean and dry, Patrick was soaked. He was going to have to work on that. It’d obviously been too long since he’d done this. He couldn’t very well get so wet every time he bathed his kid. He managed to get Avery into bed and settled down with promises of the trip to Papa and Tutu’s house very soon.

  He stopped to change into dry shorts and T-shirt before coming back out to the kitchen. Emily was busy putting pizza into Ziploc bags and stowing it in the fridge. “Hi,” he said and found himself ridiculously nervous… around his own wife.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, yourself. This is rare.”

  Patrick nodded and dug deep for some of the self-confidence he used when he’d first approached her. He crossed the small kitchen, took the bag out of her hand, and set it on the island, then pulled her into his arms. He lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, then closed the short distance and caught her lips in a soft kiss.

  It wasn’t quite what he’d expected. It felt good—no doubt about that. But it seemed like the connection, that deeper something he thought they’d always have, wasn’t really there anymore. He pushed the thoughts away. He had her in his arms, and he was determined to do everything he could to make it good. And find out that he was wrong, that they should still be together.

  She opened to him, and he slid his tongue along hers, tasting her for the first time in so long. He felt himself stir and had a brief moment of relief that at least that hadn’t changed. He deepened the kiss, her hands moving over him, cupping his ass and pulling him in.

  He turned them, pushing her against the island, their legs threading. He ground his leg into her, and she moaned. He reached up then, cupping one breast in his hand, pulling more sounds from her. Her head fell back, and he bit and nipped at her neck as he teased a nipple. She writhed against him, and he looked into her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, obviously enjoying herself.

  But there was something missing too. Patrick frowned. Then, annoyed with himself, he stepped back. When she looked at him, he took her hand. He led her into the bedroom and turned back to her, tugging on her T-shirt. She pulled his off, and they worked on their own shorts. A moment later, they were naked and lying down.

  He let his eyes travel over her, and he was happy to note his cock twitched and filled. He was beginning to wonder if he’d completely changed sexuality. But no, he did, in fact, like what he saw in front of him.

  He leaned in and caught a nipple between his lips. Emily’s fingers threaded through his hair—now blessedly free of extensions—and tugged. He hummed around the nipple, then sucked until it hardened before giving the same attention to the other. He slid a hand down her flat stomach, teasing the soft curls between her legs. When she opened to him, he eased a finger between the folds to discover she was quite wet. Well, he thought, at least I can still get her turned on.

  She made an impatient sound then and pulled on him. Patrick raised his eyebrows but settled between her legs. She lifted them, wrapping them around his waist, and Patrick slid slowly into her. He caught her lips at the same time, trying—in vain, it seemed—to get lost in her. But it wasn’t there, the magic he was so desperate to find, and he had to admit it now.

  He pulled back, and their eyes met. He understood it then. He might as well have been fucking a friend. That was, in the end, what he was doing. They didn’t love each other anymore, not like they should as husband and wife. He saw something similar in her eyes.

  She gave a small, wry smile. “I know,” she whispered, reaching up to cup a cheek and brush a bit of his hair back. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t know what to do with it. He frowned and shook his head. “I am. Should we… uh….”

  She chuckled. “I’m sure we could still get each other off.”

  He laughed. “Indeed.”

  Less than ten minutes later, they were dressed and back in the kitchen. “I’m thinking a pitcher of margaritas on the balcony. What do you think?” she asked, standing at the refrigerator.

  Patrick nodded, leaning against the counter, head tilted. “Why are you so okay with this?” he asked, frowning.

  “For the same reason, I think, that you’re not more upset than you are. Let’s make the ’ritas and we’ll talk.” She pulled out the ingredients and pointed toward the liquor cabinet, and Patrick retrieved the tequila. Emily worked the blender and poured them into a pitcher while Patrick dug out the salt.

  They settled in at the high-top round table she had on the balcony. “It’s Sara, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a sip from his glass.

  She looked into her drink for a long moment. “Yes and no.” She took her own drink, then looked up at him. “I think Sara was the result, not the cause. I think I started to realize that about six months ago. The last time you were here, in fact.”

  Patrick nodded, remembering it well. They’d slept in the same bed, had meals together, that sort of thing, but they hadn’t so much as kissed more than half a dozen times. And they certainly hadn’t tried to have sex. Now that he was more willing to accept where they were, he could see the signs. Wasn’t that always the case, though? Hindsight is twenty-twenty, after all. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Do you love her?” he asked.

  She sighed. “I don’t want to say that, honestly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Patrick smiled. “It’s my pride, if anything,” he said, shrugging. “Is that why you didn’t want to hear about Chance?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I thought… when you said he was to you what Sara was to me, I thought—which was ridiculous, I know, you couldn’t have known how I felt—but I thought it meant you were in love. I was kind of… mad, actually. ’Cause I haven’t done anything with her.”

  Patrick nodded. “And so you thought that you’d been good, but I hadn’t.”

  “I know it’s stupid. I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head.

  But Patrick held a hand out. “No, it’s okay. I certainly haven’t been the smartest person about us. I just kept thinking that somehow we could do it, make it work, but… it doesn’t work if we just don’t love each other like that, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Tell me about Chance,” she said, propping her chin on her hand.

  He laughed. “Are you sure you want to hear this? ’Cause… I like him.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Like like? When… how?” Her eyes widened almost comically. “Are you…?”

  “Bi, yes. I should start from the beginning,” he said, still chuckling. “Which was about… three months ago or so.” She raised her eyebrows even farther. “I was filming a scene with Rhys, and I… reacted.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, and he could see she was trying not to laugh.

  “Yeah, I was freaking out. I thought I was suddenly somehow gay!” He shook his head at himself. “It got really weird for a while. I even….” He paused to clear his throat. “I even masturbated to images of him in my head. I kept trying to picture you, but my brain was having none of that.”

  She snorted. “So what did you do?”

  “I was pretty sure I was going crazy. Every damned scene we shot, every time we kissed, it kept getting worse. I went into this little bar named Benny’s near the apartment. I was just going to get drunk for once, right?”

  She laughed. “That doesn’t
work for you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know. Anyway, when I got a seat, there, next to me was… a gorgeous guy. Long blond hair, blue eyes, and fit. Like… he wore this tight T-shirt and jeans and, well, I was annoyed at myself that I was looking, but….”

  “He sounds gorgeous. What did you do?” she asked, pouring more margarita for both of them.

  “Ignored him. Or, well, tried. I don’t know how many shots I did, but somewhere along the way… he bought me one, and we started talking.” He shook his head. “I thought he was just being nice, this stranger I’d never seen before. Well, we went to a diner down the street because they kept playing the jukebox and we couldn’t talk. Pablo’s—if you’re ever in LA, I’ll take you, it’s great. Anyway, so, this waitress there, who’s a friend of Chance’s, let it slip that Chance is gay. So… I thought maybe he’d understand. And since I’d never see him again… I told him the whole thing. He was the one who convinced me I was bi.”

  “You didn’t know at all before now? And… obviously you did see him again.” She shifted, sitting back.

  “Yeah. Well, I was attracted to a couple of guys in high school and one in college. But… you put it away or ignore it. You know how it goes.”

  “I do,” she agreed, nodding. “I did the same thing. It’s not easy, but… easier than coming out.”

  “Right,” he said. “And yeah, see… we work on the same show. He’s the utility sound technician.”

  “And he didn’t tell you?”

  Patrick shook his head. “I think maybe he was afraid I’d leave or something. I think… I think there’s a chance he might date me.”

  “There’s a chance with Chance?” she asked, lips twitching.

  Patrick laughed. “Yeah, something like that. And you and Sara?”

  She nodded. “She’s been really good about it, but I know it hurts her that we’re still married.”

  “So, tell me, truthfully—you won’t hurt my feelings. Do you love her?” he asked.

  She hesitated, then nodded again. “Yeah, I do. It’s been brewing for a while.”

  He smiled and realized… it really didn’t hurt. “Wow,” he said, shaking his head. When she gave him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “I just realized how much it doesn’t hurt. It’s weird, isn’t it? I mean… aren’t we still supposed to get pissed at each other? Throw things, yell?”

  She shrugged. “Why? Can’t we be friends for Avery’s sake?”

  “Yeah. I just… I hear so much about how horrible breaking up is.”

  “I think we’ve just already done our grieving,” she suggested.

  Patrick nodded. “I can see that.” He looked up at her and frowned. “So… how do we handle Avery?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think that, well, since I make more, have more saved… I can help you get a bigger place, pay for day care, and just… when I get breaks, have him for a while. I think… I think he’d be better off with you….” She paused and winked. “And maybe Daddy Chance.”

  Patrick spit out his margarita. “I haven’t even asked him out!”

  She laughed, then sobered. “Does he like kids?”

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah. He can’t wait to meet Avery.”

  She smiled widely. “That’s good—really good. I’d… I’d like to meet him sometime, if he’s going to be in Avery’s life.”

  “Of course,” Patrick said, wondering just how much he might be in Avery’s life. How much Chance would want to be in Patrick’s. “Oh… you’ll get a kick out of this. Guess what I’ve got to do next season….”

  He moved his and Avery’s tickets up a few days, and he and Emily spent the next two packing as much of Avery’s things into suitcases as they could. Chance was willing to accept shipped packages of Avery’s stuff, so they sent that off and focused on what he’d need for Hawai’i.

  She didn’t make him sleep on the horrible couch, but they didn’t exactly sleep together, either. He just took one side of the big bed and she took the other. It felt more like a high-school sleepover than married life, but in the end, Patrick decided that was a good thing.

  They worked out what they were going to do with paperwork too. They’d start with a formal separation agreement, giving him primary custody of Avery and working out financial agreements. Neither wanted to imagine a time when they would fight, but they’d seen too many friends end up in just that way, so they worked it out and signed off on it.

  She rode with them to the airport. Avery was too excited to see Papa and Tutu to be very sad about leaving his mom. Emily, on the other hand, was fighting tears. Patrick frowned, set Avery down, and pointed out a big stone statue not far from them. “Go look at that, Stinker, so Mommy and Da can talk.”

  Avery didn’t even wait. He ran full tilt to go over and touch it.

  Patrick turned to Emily. “Em… if you want to change your mind….”

  She shook her head. “No. This is best for him. I’ll barely be home. We’ve got night shoots and early shoots and long, long days ahead. Besides… if things go well with Chance… I mean, Sara doesn’t even like kids all that much.”

  Patrick nodded. “If you change your mind, want to see him at any time….”

  Emily nodded too. “I know. Thank you.” She threw her arms around him, and Patrick swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, baby. I will miss you, even if it’s just… our friendship.”

  “Hey, we’ve got phones, e-mail, Facebook,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’ll send billions of pictures, okay?”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Okay. Good. I’ll send some for him too, like you did.”

  “And I’ll make sure to keep them up in the house, okay?”

  She smiled. “Deal. Okay, you don’t want to miss your flight.”

  “Right,” he said, throat thick. “Avery!” he called and watched his son run, trip, splat on the cement floor, then get up and keep running. He and Emily chuckled. “Gets that from you,” he said, and Emily scoffed.

  “As if.” She scooped Avery up, hugged him hard, and then the two of them got in line for security. When they got to the front, she was still standing there, waving. They waved back, Avery threw her a kiss, then, with a last look, turned to get scanned.

  Chapter 9

  The flight to Honolulu was a lot less eventful than the one to Vancouver. He and Avery had front-row seats, so getting on and off was a cinch. They had only one—very brief—layover of less than an hour in San Francisco.

  Baggage claim, car rental, and the like took a bit longer. Patrick wasn’t quite used to corralling a three-year-old and grabbing suitcases or signing contracts. But Avery was good, for the most part, especially when Patrick handed his phone over for entertainment. He made a mental note to look into one of the small electronic educational toys.

  Finally, they were on Interstate 1, heading through Honolulu. The highway curved around past Pearl Harbor—not that he could see the waterfront from the road—then the Aloha Stadium where the Pro Bowl was played. In fact, from there, he really couldn’t see much, especially since he had to focus on driving. But he enjoyed what he could see of the mountains when he picked up H-3 and started up into the mountains themselves.

  He loved this part of the drive. The beauty often took his breath away. There must have been thousands of shades of green in the trees and vegetation. The sky above opened up into such a deep blue that it seemed impossible. Fluffy clouds soft enough to lie on floated along the bowl of sky. He’d have to get someone to drive him through once so he could just enjoy it. He missed it so much. It’d been way too long since he’d been home.

  When they approached the Tetsuo Harano Tunnels, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the gasp Avery gave. The last time Avery had been to Hawai’i, he was too young to remember it.

  “What’s that, Da?”

  “It’s a tunnel to get us through the mountain, Stinker,” he said, flipping on his lights and taking off his sunglasses. He didn’t hate the tunnel, but he was glad enough when they made it
to the other side. He knew the tunnel was only about a mile long—and thus only took a minute or so to get through—but it always felt longer.

  Coming through on the other side, however, was always a treat, because he got the first glimpse of the bay near his home. But then, only a few seconds later, they made the next curve, and the valley opened up in front of them with a much better view. Patrick sucked in a breath, his heart pounding a little at the idea that he was home.

  He forced himself to concentrate on driving, taking the exit for Likelike Highway and following it down into Kane’ohe. He navigated the traffic, such as it was for his town, and before he knew it, he was turning into his parents’ driveway.

  “Is this where Papa and Tutu live?” Avery asked from the backseat.

  “Yup. Come on, I know they’re really excited to see you.”

  The first half hour or so after getting into the house was chaos—much less organized than Avery’s day care center had been. He managed to hug his father and spend a moment or two with his mom before his siblings swarmed them.

  “How are you, honey?” his mother asked, looking him over with a keen eye. Kalea Tearney rarely missed anything, but he did his best to bury what was going on. He wasn’t ready to tell her—any of them—what had happened yet. He didn’t think she’d take too kindly to it. She believed very strongly in family, and he knew she’d be disappointed, at the very least.

  “Fine, Mama. Tired. The season takes a lot out of you and it’s always a challenge to wrestle a toddler onto a plane.”

  His mom laughed, though there was something in her eyes that told him she knew there was more to it. She let it drop, though, obviously sensing his reluctance. He’d have to be on his guard because he doubted she’d let it rest for long.

  Once she let go, he forgot for a bit about it as things got confusing and crazy. He was bombarded by hugs, kisses, and questions galore, and it wasn’t until Patrick’s great aunt came out and thunked her thick wooden cane on the entryway floor that it quieted. His grandmother had passed away years ago, when he was still young, but the woman in front of him had done much to fill in. As such, she had earned the nickname “Tutu” that was usually used for grandmothers, but as he didn’t remember his own, she took the name instead. “Where’s my keiki?” She often slipped into Hawai’ian for words like that. She’d once told him English, or even Hawai’ian pidgin, equivalents didn’t sound quite right to her.