Free The Roommate by Carla Krae Page B

ordered?” I asked.
    He was setting out paper plates.   “Including these.”   He presented a box of parmesan bites.
    Now I really did love him.   Stupid man was going to make me cry.   “Awesome!”
    I ate those first.   Don’t look at me like that.   A girl can eat her feelings during times like these.   I had four pieces of pizza, too.
    Hello, food coma.
    Something brushed my face.
    “You fell asleep,” Patrick said softly.   He was close enough to touch me.
    “Sorry. Food coma.”
    “Yeah. Figured.”
    I stretched.   It was almost midnight.   How long had he let me sleep?   “Well, goodnight.”
    “Goodnight, Jess.”

 

Chapter Ten

 
    In the morning, I texted Ros : Why didn’t you tell me sooner? This is big news!
    She wrote back: Sorry. Swamped. You’ll be there tonight?
    Wouldn’t miss it .
    Yay! Later. SO much to do .
    I stayed in bed longer than I slept.   Heard Patrick up and about, then leave for the gym.   Only then did I get up.   And found a note with reheat instructions on top of a covered plate in the fridge.   Of course he’d made enough breakfast for two.
    Ros ’ party was a dressy affair, so I needed to look nice tonight—shave my legs, get a haircut, etc.   Because I rarely needed them, I had two cocktail dresses and one formal, all black.   Hey, it’s versatile, and a good black dress never goes out of style.   But did I want to wear the same old thing?   I had enough time to shop.
    Called my hairdresser first (thank God for a slot this morning), then browsed through in-store options online while I ate.   Arrived with clean wet hair so we could save time on the cut and blow-out.   After shopping, I was back by mid-afternoon.
    “Where were you?” Patrick asked.
    “Preparing for the party. Are you going?”
    “Haven’t decided.”
    “She did invite you, yes?”
    “Yes, I got the same e-mail. I don’t think it matters if I attend, though.”
    “You’re her brother.”
    “Jess, we’re not close.”
    “Her only brother.”   I put the garment bag on my bed.   “You don’t have to stay long, but at least congratulate her. Have you heard from your parents?”
    “My mother called.”
    “She told you to go.”
    “Yes. Of course. Like any mother, she wants her children to get along.”
    “Well, the invite says 7:00, so you have until six to decide.”
    “I remember. Your hair looks different.”
    My hand went to the strands grazing my collarbone.   “It’s straight.”   And shiny due to the products my stylist used.
    “Right. Did you have lunch while you were out?”
    “Not yet.”
    “I’ll whip up something.”
    “Okay.”   I went into my bedroom to hang up the new dress.
    He really did wait until the last minute to get ready to leave for the party.
    But worth the wait.
    Patrick stepped out of his room in a suit that appeared to be made for him.   I had my coat on, so he couldn’t see my dress, yet.   As a going-away gift, I had picked up a bottle of Ros ’ favorite champagne.   “I can carry that,” he said.
    “Thank you,” and locked up.
    A thirty minute drive to the venue and we walked in at 7:05.   How she organized this on such short notice, I’d never understand.   There was a big Congratulations, Ros banner strung across the room.   Waiters with hors d’oeuvres.   A DJ.   Even fresh flowers.
    “She sure didn’t spare any expense,” Patrick said.
    “Be nice.”
    “It’s extravagant to do for oneself. She always was a show-off.”
    “Hey, can you be pleasant tonight?”
    “I can pretend.”
    “Why are you still so cross with her? That whole thing was weeks ago.”
    “You,” he muttered.
    “What?”
    “Because of how she treated you, alright?”   He veered off to the bar, leaving me stunned.
    He’d become my champion.
    I took the bottle to the gift table, saying hi to people I knew along the way.   There was already a growing pile of cards and small packages.
    Patrick stayed clear of me until Ros