Page 38 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
Patrick shrugs and removes the hat anyway. “I have it better than he does. At least I tan beneath the freckles.”
Will leans over and lifts his sunglasses, examining Patrick’s shoulders and chest. “I’ve never seen you with this many before.”
“I excel at them like I excel at everything else I do.”
Will laughs and then turns his bright sunshine smile up to the sky. “I’m happy, Patrick. I’m glad we’re here.”
“I am too.”
“You don’t miss brains?”
“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. But with any luck some idiot kid will slip on the pool deck and I can perform emergency miracle surgery right here on the sandy sidewalk.”
“Ha.”
Patrick smiles. His lemonade is fresh and sweet enough to rot his teeth. Just the way he likes it. “We’ll have to explore down there tomorrow.” He nods toward the lagoon.
“Sounds good to me.”
“What do you want to do tonight?”
“Walk the path down by the ocean? Maybe look at some of that art you came to see?”
“And then we’ll have sex again.”
Will chokes a little on his daiquiri before laughing. “Yeah, okay.”
“Perfect.” Patrick stretches back in the pool chair, enjoying having his feet up.
He realizes that, until Will brought it up, he hasn’t thought about surgery or brains all day. It’s a surprise because those are two of his favorite things to think about. But he can’t say he’s been bored since they landed in Hawaii. He’s content even.
Which is strange.
He’s used to having the low-grade aggravation of constant Patterson-Molinaro drama in his life. If he shrugs off the lingering tension in his muscles, and gets laid one more time, he might just be what is known asrelaxed. It’s an interesting feeling. And kind of cool.
“This has been a good day,” he declares. “Yesterday was good too. Even with flying in a tin can at forty-one thousand feet.”
Will doesn’t answer. He just smiles and tilts his head back, pushing the sunglasses on top of his head and peering at the sunset’s colors. He sips his daiquiri and they rest together in silence.
Patrick reaches out and takes Will’s fingers. Then they wait like that together until the sun goes down, leaving the sky the color of a bruise.
As they stroll along the path up from the ocean after their walk, early stars twinkling overhead and the lush foliage surrounding them, Will hums a new pop hit under his breath that Patrick doesn’t entirely hate. A small sea turtle crosses their path, shiny with water and determined to crawl into the long grass opposite, and they pause to watch it go.
A hand lands on Will’s shoulder, jerking him around.
“Hey!” Patrick shouts, fingers clenching into fists and his heart racing as he wheels around to confront whoever’s dared touch Will.
“Guglielmo! Itisyou!”
The use of Will’s given name and the dimple creasing the cheeks of the ridiculously handsome dark-haired man in front of them is all Patrick needs to understand that the peaceful, romantic honeymoon they’ve been enjoying has collided with a brick wall known as Tony Molinaro.
Will’s insane, mafioso, biological father.
Will gapes. “Dad?”
