Page 37 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Seventeen

Connor

Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have been getting as emotional as I was listening to John’s speech, but in all fairness, I’d never had anyone welcome me into their family the way he had.

Guilt and happiness swirled inside me, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself except for clutching at Patrick’s hand and trying hard not to cry. Most guys would have said this was downright embarrassing, being singled out in front of their new boyfriend’s entire family, but I knew it was a gesture of love, not humiliation. In the past twenty-four hours, I’d felt nothing but welcome, and it was clear Patrick’s family utterly adored him. To have them extend that love to me too was… well… it was something I didn’t really know how to deal with.

I’d grown up with just my mum, and for so long it had just been her and me. She’d been sixteen when she’d realised she was pregnant with me, and her then boyfriend—aka my sperm donor—had fucked off as soon as she’d told him, like the immature prick that he was. Most of her family had told her to “get rid of the problem”—aka me—but she’d refused, and when she’d done that, they’d kicked her out. Luckily, there was a fairy godmother in this story in the form of my Auntie Linda, who’d taken my mum in. Mum had gotten a job and gone to college for hairdressing, and once I’d been born, she’d kept going. Auntie Linda had never taken any rent, insisting my mum save her money so she could one day get a house of her own.

I don’t really have any memories of my auntie, unfortunately. She died of breast cancer when I was three. I have vague memories of blonde hair and smiling eyes, but that’s about it. She left everything to my mum though. It wasn’t much, but it did include her bungalow in a village on the outskirts of Braintree. And that was where I’d grown up. Just mum and me. Mum’s family had never reached out and neither had my dad’s. I’d never had anything like the sort of family Patrick had.

And I’d never imagined a situation where I’d be welcomed in some sort of grand gesture in front of my boyfriend’s family and friends. I thought that sort of thing only happened in romance novels.

“Are you okay?” Patrick said, his voice quiet but laced with concern.

“I’m fine.” I shook my head, gazing down at the floor between the benches. “Actually, that’s a downright lie. Fuck!”

“Do you want to go outside?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to make a scene.” There was some applause and cheering. I guessed the speech had come to an end. A hum of chatter picked up again. “Do you think your mum will say something?”

“Maybe.” I glanced over at Patrick. He gave me a smile. “Come with me.”

He pulled me gently to my feet, and I saw him lean in to say something to Mary. Then he tugged my hand again and led me through the benches. I heard him say something about cake and caterers to a couple of people as we passed, the lie falling off his tongue like honey. As soon as we were outside, he pulled me around the corner and into the field by the side of the barn, out of sight of everyone.

I felt like a fucking idiot, but somehow, now that I’d started, I couldn’t seem to stop crying. I was going to make a serious mess of my make-up if I kept this up. Waterproof mascara was only waterproof up to a certain point, and I was not willing to test its limits today. Pandas were cute, but that didn’t mean I wanted to look like one right now.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound like a normal human being and actually sounding more like a swamp monster because apparently today’s crying came with a side of snotty nose. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

That was a lie, but I wasn’t going to admit it. I hated being vulnerable even around someone I knew as well as Patrick. I’d always been the bouncy, extroverted one. No one was supposed to know I had a vulnerable side. I’d never let anyone see it before. I’d always needed to be the strong one, and my walls were so high you practically needed a trebuchet to scale them. But apparently there were cracks in them somewhere because parts were starting to tumble down, and I didn’t like what they were revealing.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Patrick’s voice was soft again, flowing over me like liquid sunshine. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry my family is a little overwhelming. I didn’t know Da was going to single you out like that.”

“No, it’s not that.” I took a deep breath, but Patrick beat me to the punch.

“It’s the fact that my family loves you and are being, well, them. It’s a bit much when you’re not used to it… and sometimes even when you are used to it.” He cleared his throat, but I already knew he was just as choked up as I was. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, and I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or himself. “Especially when you realise they love you for who you are, and you never had any reason to be scared in the first place.”

“They love you, Patrick,” I said into his chest. I’d always loved how broad Patrick was, but now I felt more than warm and happy in his arms. I felt safe. Wanted even. Like he could always be my harbour in a storm.

“They love you too.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I wish…” His voice trailed off, but I wasn’t stupid enough to miss the note of longing. Hope exploded in my chest. Please, please, fucking God, please let him want the same thing I did.

“What do you wish?” I asked, trying desperately not to let my hope get out of control. It was stupid and ridiculous because there was no way Patrick would ever really want someone like me… not really. I was too me. And nobody ever really wanted that. I had twenty-eight years of evidence to prove it.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I tilted my head up, catching his gaze. “Do you wish it was real?” My words were barely louder than a whisper, but to me they sounded like they’d come from a fucking foghorn. My face flamed, and for a second, I hoped my foundation might work a miracle and stop me from looking like a fucking tomato. God, I was such an idiot. Patrick was never going to want me the way I wanted him.

“Yes…” One word. One single fucking word punctuated the air, and all of a sudden, I forgot how to breathe. I opened my mouth, but no words would come out. So instead I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him.

Every kiss we’d had up until that point had been perfect—sweet and soft and so full of the promise of something. This one was different. It was heat and desire and pure want all bundled up in one delicious moment. I moaned against Patrick’s mouth as my tongue caressed his lips. My fingers fisted into the front of his shirt as his hands gripped my hips, my cock thickening in my briefs as I thought about him gripping my hips while we did other things. Fuck, I needed to get laid. Preferably with Patrick, and preferably about ten minutes ago.

I wondered if he’d be up for sneaking away from the party for twenty minutes or so. I mean, I didn’t think it would take that long for me to get Patrick to blow his load down my throat. Oral was one of my absolute favourite things to do, and I considered myself rather talented in that area. Since Patrick was a little lacking in experience, it would probably take a little less time than usual, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to make it perfect for him.

We broke apart, both our chests heaving. I wanted to chuckle at the little pink stain now gracing Patrick’s lips. Maybe my lipstick wasn’t quite as foolproof as it claimed.

“We, um, we should…” Patrick swallowed, clearly having trouble processing words. I giggled but couldn’t help the sudden giddy feeling filling my chest because I’d done that. “We should get back.”

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