Page 44 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
Patrick grits his teeth. Now he itches to checkThe Hurting Timesapp to make sure Tony’s telling the truth. The gossip columns will have the latest, and he can call Jenny to tell her off if she’s really giving Tom another go. But his and Will’s phones are locked up in the safe in their room.
“Maybe you should call her,” Will says.
“No.” Patrick shakes his head. “Phone calls are a slippery slope. We’ll never be able to place just one.”
“Like potato chips,” Angelica says wisely, nodding and laughing so that her pert nipples shake.
Will frowns at his empty glass, looks around for a waiter to refill it. Not finding one, he takes Patrick’s water instead. Patrick frowns, and just as a suspicion kicks in, the monitor alarms again.
“What’s it say?” he asks, leaning close to Will, trying to read the numbers. Another thing he misses about his phone: instant access to Will’s BG readings.
Then he smells it. He leans closer to Will to confirm. Yep. Concentrated Band-Aid odor. The specific and intense scent of a big, fat problem.
“C’mon.” He stands and grabs Will’s arm. “We need to get you back to the room.”
Tony frowns. “What’s the matter? Is Will okay?”
Will doesn’t rise. He darts his eyes between Patrick and his pump. “It’s not a big deal. The pump shows the boluses. I’m fine. I’m just thirsty.” He reaches for his plate of food and grabs another strip of bacon.
“Let’s go,” Patrick says again.
“Just let me finish breakfast,” Will snaps.
“No, I think now,” Patrick tugs on his arm harder. “You’re drinking water like you’re in the middle of a desert and I smell Band-Aids.”
“Oh.” Will says, frowning. “Oh.”
He actually looks like he’s going to argue with Patrick about this, which isn’t a surprise since extreme irritability is another sign of oncoming ketoacidosis. He’d probably have noticed that first on a normal day, but, well…Tony.
“Where’s your murse?” Patrick asks. He can solve this problem right now with an injection, but, for the first time in forever, Will seems to have left it behind.
“I don’t need it. That’s what the pump’s for,” Will growls. “We’re on our honeymoon. How romantic is it to carry that thing around everywhere?”
“Unless you think an ER run is romantic, we need to get back to the room.”
Tony stands and motions for a waiter to come over. “We need a doctor,” he says urgently.
“Iama doctor,” Patrick hisses at him. “Just come with me, Will. Now.”
“Fine.” Will throws his napkin down and stands, his cheeks flushed and his eyes gleaming feverishly. “Just stop telling me what to do!”
Patrick takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this childish rage is just the high BG speaking. “Or I can let your dad call the hotel doctor and we can make a big honking drama out of this.”
“I’m leaving!” Will stomps away in the direction of their room.
“He’s fine,” Patrick says to Tony, who makes a move to follow. “He needs to change his infusion site. His pump’s leaking insulin. It’s not getting into his system.”
“We’ll come with you, won’t we, darling?” he says to Angelica.
“Of course,” she says, rising with big eyes. “Anything to help my step-son!”
“No. You’ll make things worse.” Patrick holds up his hands and glares daggers at them both. “Stay here.”
Tony reaches out to grab Patrick’s arm as he passes. “Have dinner with us tonight, then.”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “Thanks, but we’re having room service.”
“Surely not with such lovely, romantic views to take in from one of the private dining rooms. Have you even attended a luau yet?”
