Wrong Pt. 03

"I'll probably erupt into flames when we walk through the door."

"Probably," I agreed. My boot stuck in a crack on the sidewalk and I nearly fell, but Patrick caught me just in time. "Thanks. Now maybe God will give you a minute before setting you on fire."

Patrick grinned and kissed me. I had to pull away after a minute.

"Stop trying to distract me! We have to go."

We couldn't be late for the wedding. Number one, I didn't want to be late, and number two, I didn't want to be a spectacle. People were already going to be watching for us. It had been a year, but we were still interesting specimens.

It appeared Chloe could love again. She met Greg shortly after our whole terrible fall-out. A few months later she started emailing me back. She invited me over to dinner once to meet him—only me, and only once. He was kind but a bit plain and mild-mannered. Not at all Chloe's type, but it seemed she was trying something new. And it worked. Shortly afterwards she was engaged. I tracked most of their relationship through Facebook (once she unblocked me) and I felt unbelievably relieved Chloe found someone new. Perhaps even a bit selfishly.

My parents still weren't thrilled with me. They invited me back to Sunday dinners but I didn't go; Greg and Chloe were typically there, and Patrick was never invited. I understood and hoped that, with time, things would change.

My mother kept in touch with me. I didn't speak much to my father. He hadn't forgiven me.

Some friends stopped talking to me, too. Family members united with Chloe. There seemed to be more repercussions to my relationship with Patrick than I originally realized.

But Patrick and I stayed together. It shocked everyone. If I were being honest, it shocked me, too. Some mornings when I woke up before him and looked over at him, painted with morning sun, he didn't seem real. None of it did. Then he'd wake up and call me a creep for staring at him while he slept, or he'd drag me over to him and fuck me, proving he was very real, indeed.

Then I received Chloe's wedding invitation. We did share emails, and sometimes even texts, but I didn't know if I'd be invited to her wedding. It was even wilder that she invited Patrick, too.

And so we were racing to get to the church on time.

We ran up the slippery steps and slipped inside the dark church. My nose burned from both the frost outside and the incense burning inside. Some of the people in the last few pews turned around to glance at us with disapproval. We rushed into our seats and panted, holding and squeezing the other's hand.

We made it just in time, too, because the music began to play. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way up the aisle. I obviously hadn't been asked to be a bridesmaid, and while I'd decided at the time it was a fair decision, it still hurt a little. But I was just glad to be a part of Chloe's day.

People were watching us, I noticed. I'd expected it but I couldn't help fidgeting under their stares. They probably thought it was rude we'd shown up. I tried to remind myself it didn't matter what they thought. Chloe had invited me, had extended an olive branch, and I happily accepted it.

Then the music changed. Chloe and Dad appeared. She looked absolutely beautiful. She gave my father a little grin when they started walking up to the altar.

When Chloe reached Greg, I saw the look he gave her and felt a bizarre sense of relief. He really loved her; it was all over his face.

The actual ceremony was long and a bit boring. I stopped paying attention and stared at Chloe. My sister.

Time had changed us. We didn't get along when we were kids, we became best friends when we hit our teens and now we were polite but distant relatives. Chloe still loved me, of course, in her own way. But I knew with a sad sense of finality we would never be close again.

The ceremony was finally over. Chloe burst down the aisle with a giant grin, Greg smiling beside her. She caught my eye and her smile grew softer. Then her eyes shifted over to Patrick. Her expression froze. I couldn't imagine what that moment felt like to her—to be arm-in-arm with her new husband, faced with her ex-husband. Then she nodded at him and continued on down the aisle.

It had to be so hard for her. A rush of affection came to my heart when I again realized what a big deal it was that she invited us.

The crowd flooded back out into the snow. I tugged my gloves back on while Patrick watched me.

"You okay?"

I wanted to kiss him, but that would have been in bad taste. I only nodded.

My mother drifted over to us. She tried to ignore Patrick but she failed, tossing him a reflexive smile. You couldn't really ignore Patrick; I'd tried. "Will we see you at the reception?"

"We're going to come for a bit," I said. "Chloe mentioned she wanted some pictures with us."

Mom swallowed. "Really? Good. I've missed you. It will—it's nice to see you."

Dad walked over and took my mom's arm. "They're waiting for us in the limo."

He didn't look at us. We didn't exist.

Mom looked back at me. "There's room if you two..."

Patrick stepped in. "We'll take a cab and meet you there."

Mom looked at him with an almost thankful expression. She probably regretted her offer as soon as she made it, but I appreciated it.

My parents disappeared and most of the relatives and friends had gone, as well. Patrick's arm wrapped around my back.

"You sure you want to go?"

I took a deep breath. Chloe wanted me there, even if was just to take a few stupid pictures. "Yes."

And so we went to the reception. Chloe and the wedding party were taking pictures outside when we arrived. She waved me over and we started posing.

At some point, my mom pulled me away. She looked upset. "Will you come over to dinner this Sunday? Chloe and Greg won't be there."

I opened my mouth to say no. Not without Patrick. I wanted my parents to understand he was a part of me. But at the same time, I missed Mom and Dad. They were a part of me, too, and I couldn't blame them for needing to adjust.

I nodded.

Mom was thrilled. "Really?! Oh, wonderful. I'll make your favorite, okay?"

"Make whatever you want," I laughed. "I'll still come."

She was called by the photographer and rushed over. I looked for Patrick and spotted him a good distance away, talking to Chloe.

I watched them talk. Chloe wasn't crying or saying anything cruel. Patrick was polite. I wondered what they were saying. Then I decided it wasn't any of my business.

He came back to me a little while later. "Closure," he said. I took his hand.

Chloe glanced back at me and I waved at her. She smiled and waved back before disappearing into the banquet hall.

Patrick and I had decided we wouldn't go to the actual reception. It didn't seem fair or appropriate. It was Chloe's day. We didn't want her to feel sad or uncomfortable, and we didn't want others to be focused on us.

So we hailed a cab and went back to my apartment.

We were both in a somber mood, lost in our own thoughts. Neither of us said much as we took off our coats and pulled some leftover take-out from the fridge. Rufus was mellow, too. He sleepily joined us on the couch, curling up into a ball in the corner.

Patrick put his arm around me and turned the TV on.

After a while, I felt an urge to say something. "I wish I cooked for you. I never make you anything."

Patrick turned his head to give me a bemused smile. "Thank God. I've tasted your cooking. I don't want to be poisoned any time soon, thank you."

I didn't really want to cook, either. I just didn't know what else to say, and I hated the silence.

Patrick sensed this and put his hand on the back of my neck, massaging me with his fingers. "I prefer take-out."

"It's expensive."

"I don't mind." His eyes studied me. "What's really bothering you?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "It was a big day, wasn't it?"

"Yes." He stroked my hair. "I'm sorry you couldn't stay for the reception."

I snorted. "I'm not. God, can you imagine?"

His lips lifted into a smile but he didn't seem particularly amused. "No." His other hand came to my face. His thumb caressed my lips. "I just know it's hard on you being exiled from your family."

"My mom invited me for Sunday dinner and I said yes."

His smile widened. "Good!"

"You're not invited."

His smile turned wicked. "Even better."

I slapped his thigh. "Patrick!"

He kissed my cheek. "Let's go to bed."

"It's early."

There was a gleam in his eyes. "So what?"

I followed him, giggling when he put his hands on my hips.

He pushed me down on the bed a bit violently. He quickly undressed, his eyes simmering with so much intent that a tingle went through my body.

Then he was on top of me, tearing off my dress. There was a stretching sound as he ripped it off. He flung it over his shoulder and pulled off the rest of my clothes. Normally I yelled at him when he ruined my outfits, but I felt the same urgency, too.

He reached down to finger me for a minute, running over my wet clit. I was ready, and looking down I saw he was painfully ready.

There wasn't much foreplay before he thrust inside of me, but we didn't need it. This was so much more than sex. Belatedly it dawned on me that the day was probably rough on him, as well—perhaps even more so. We were comforting one another, reminding each other of the pleasure amongst the pain.

His pace wasn't fast, but it wasn't gentle, either. He moved his thick cock in and out with punishing, deep nudges. My nails ran down his back. He groaned and brought his lips to mine. He nibbled on my bottom lip, making me gasp. Then his lips traveled down, nipping the flesh between my neck and shoulder.

A few minutes later, Patrick's hot mouth surrounded my breast. My nipple became excruciatingly hard when his rough tongue lapped at it. I shrieked and lifted my hips to his. He somehow settled deeper inside me. I was opening up; my legs spread wider and my pussy desperately grabbed at him.

We didn't speak. Words weren't necessary. It felt like we were binding ourselves to one another, which was silly because I already considered myself bound.

I clutched his back when I felt my orgasm careening towards me.

"Oh, God," I moaned.

Patrick's hips slapped against my own. He took his mouth off one breast to torture the other. My hands flew up to run through his hair and pull him closer to my chest.

Then he pulled back to look at me, wanting to watch me come. I fell apart around him just as he kissed me. My body trembled and shook, and I grasped at his hips to hold on.

Patrick sped up and fucked me through it until I nearly begged him to stop. His hands fisted the bedsheets harder and harder with each plunge. Suddenly he lifted himself up and met my eyes while his thrusts became erratic. He came with a long groan, his expression twisted with agonizing pleasure and his eyes frozen on mine. The naked lust—and love—made me tighten a little more inside.

He collapsed to the side of me, trying to catch his breath. My body hummed and I felt relaxed for the first time in a long time. I didn't want to think too much about it, but it did occur to me that maybe it was even better between us now that we felt we were somewhat on a path of absolution.

Now that Patrick had moved away from, the cool air became too much against my damp body. I pulled the sheets up over our heads with a laugh and snuggled closer to Patrick.

He touched my stomach with his hand and I sighed. My skin was still ultra-sensitive.

"Move in with me," he said, still slightly out of breath. His hand reached for my ass and tugged me closer.

I thought for a moment I hadn't heard him correctly. My smile faded and my mouth dropped. "What?"

He snorted. "Move in with me."

"Are you out of your mind?"

Patrick immediately switched from calm to annoyed. "Yes, I'm out of my mind because I want my girlfriend to move in with me. What a fucking lunatic idea."

He had a point. But it was poor timing. I wanted to tell him so but I couldn't speak.

We stared at each other for a few minutes. I waited for him to say more, but he kept his mouth shut.

I blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. You're right. It just feels like the wrong time to talk about it."

"When would the right time be? I'm always going to be your sister's ex-husband." He gave me a quick peck on the lips. Then he pulled back with a soft smile. "I've wanted this for a long time. I'm tired of waiting for a convenient time. Move in with me. Then I want you to marry me."

My heart jumped. "Patrick, what are you..."

"I already have the ring." His eyes glittered in the faint light. "Move in with me. Marry me. Tolerate me when no one else will."

His lips moved over my neck and down to my collarbone. I thought hard about it and wrapped my arms around his torso. I could feel his heart beating.

Patrick would always be Chloe's ex-husband. But he was something much more now, and I loved him. I'd made plenty of sacrifices to be with him and, while I was sad to hurt other people, I didn't regret them. I'd made my choice the year before on that snowy sidewalk that I wanted to be with Patrick and that I needed to be strong. People would always judge us, but it didn't matter, anymore.

It was easy to keep punishing myself, really. It was a lot harder to take a deep breath and plunge into the unknown with the amazing, ridiculous, complicated man next to me.

I pulled his hair and he lifted his head, his green eyes scanning my face.

"What's your building's policy on pets?"

************************************************************

A few months later I stood in Patrick's living room.

Rufus pawed at Patrick's beautiful—and probably insanely expensive—area rug for the millionth time.

"Stop that!" I hissed, but he ignored me.

Patrick walked out from the bedroom and Rufus instantly stopped. Bastard.

"I have to go pick up a few things. I'll get us some lunch." He walked over and kissed me casually, just like an everyday kiss. I loved it and clutched his shirt when he tried to pull away. He smiled down at me and picked my left hand up, examining the ring he'd put there a few days before. "I really have good taste."

Then he lifted my hand to his lips. "I'll be back."

I continued unpacking after he left, pausing now and then to yell at Rufus or stretch my back.

Eventually I pulled out the gift Chloe had sent me shortly after her wedding.

We weren't close, but she had sent me a few emails when she returned from her honeymoon. I told her Patrick and I were engaged because I didn't want to her to find out any other way. I'd learned my lesson the first time I kept a secret from her. She didn't respond right away, and when she did her answering message wasn't particularly warm and fuzzy. But she seemed to be okay with it now, or at least resigned, and in her last email she expressed some interest in wedding details.

The gift was a picture of us—Chloe and Greg, Patrick and me—after the wedding. I looked at the photo for a minute, studying our awkward happiness with awe and fascination.

Greg was staring at Chloe with tenderness, a content smile on his face. Patrick's expression was calm and at ease. His arm was around my shoulders, and he looked like he had all he needed.

My lips were curved in a half-smile, trying to stifle a laugh after Patrick whispered a dirty joke in my ear to cheer me up. It was odd, but I hadn't taken a picture with Patrick yet. Not since we became a couple. We looked right together, I noticed. We looked happy.

Chloe's face was hard to describe. There was a sadness there, but also a sense of quiet satisfaction. Her smile wasn't her usually wide and perfect smile, but her eyes shone with brilliant radiance. Patrick's presence undoubtedly brought out the bittersweet element for her, but I wondered if Chloe, too, felt the sense of closure both Patrick and I walked away with. Perhaps seeing her ex-husband at her wedding made everything come full circle, and it was easier for her to let go. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

But Greg clearly made her happy. He was a good guy. It didn't take me long to see that. I hoped she felt relieved, loved and at peace. She deserved it.

I still didn't feel good about what I did to my sister, no matter how much time had gone by. It didn't matter that she found a new sort of happiness, or that she appeared to not hate me. Closure had helped me move on, to heal, but it wasn't a magical wand which erased all of my misdeeds.

There was just no way I could convince myself that some of the things I did were right. But there was no way I could tell myself loving Patrick was wrong.

I placed the frame on the table near the window, tilting it towards the sun to make it glow.