Page 131 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“I don’t know. I think I’m gonna load up on this sauce and soak it up with the bread,” Piper grinned, loading up half the sauce on her plate.

Well, that’s what it looked like. I watched as she took a slice of homemade bread and dipped it in, then groaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she practically orgasmed from the taste.

“Give me that,” I said, snatching the pot out of Mom’s hands and pouring more sauce on my plate.

“I thought you didn’t like a lot of sauce,” Piper teased.

“Well, if you weren’t making love to your food, I wouldn’t have to take more. Besides, there won’t be any left for me with the way you’re devouring it.”

“Relax, Patti. I can always make more,” Mom smirked knowingly.

Piper twirled the spaghetti on her fork and shoved it in her mouth, mumbling around her food. “I can’t believe this was out there the whole time and I never knew.”

Mom was absolutely fascinated by her, and when she looked at me with a bright smile, I knew instantly what she was thinking.

Pick her, Patrick.

Say you’ll make her your wife.

Give me the grandkids I’ve been waiting on.

But I was a coward and didn’t want to admit that she might be onto something. It was easier for me to tell myself and Piper that I wanted nothing to do with dating or relationships. They were too much work. I liked my life the way it was. And the biggest lie of all…

I didn’t want Piper in my home every night.

Yeah, I was fucking lying to myself because if I admitted that I wanted Piper or that I wanted what she could offer me, that would mean I would have to commit to something. I would have to risk having a relationship and failing at it.

And I didn’t fail at anything.

But I’d never taken a risk like this, and I wasn’t sure I even knew where to start in this case. I was a chicken shit, and I knew it. So, I shoved another forkful of spaghetti in my mouth and pretended that this was only for another few days. I would get my life back and be perfectly happy with everything.

“Patti?”

I glanced up at my mom and frowned. “What?”

“I said, don’t you think we should get you a dining room table?”

“Why?”

“Because you have company and nowhere to sit.”

I glanced down at the stool and then back at her. “We’re sitting right now.”

“Right, but you should have an actual table. I mean, you haven’t done a single thing to decorate this place.”

“That’s not true,” I bristled. “I bought a picture.”

“Where?”

I glanced around, knowing I had tossed it somewhere. I spotted it on the table in the hall where I threw my keys and allthe rest of the mail. Hobbling over to it, I pulled it out of the wrapping and handed it over.

Mom looked at it and frowned. “It’s a gun.”

“A very nice gun,” I said proudly.

She slowly looked up at me, cocking her head to the side. “It’s so small.”

“Well…” I shoved my hand through my hair, wondering how the hell I was going to explain this. “I don’t need a lot.”

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