Page 46 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
Chapter Twelve
The breeze shiversthrough his hair as Will climbs out of the Porsche and follows Patrick into the hotel after turning the car back over to the valet. It’s been a full day and a half of successfully avoiding Tony Molinaro and his new bride, and he’s feeling much improved.
They’d spent the morning exploring the offerings of the salt-water lagoon. But when Patrick spotted Tony and Angelica on a nearby walkway, they’d hightailed it out of the resort to take the car to Waialea, also known as Beach 69, for the day.
They snorkeled and played in the waves for hours. Children and families dotted the beach and splashed all around them. It was chaotic and yet peaceful, the sound of the water and waves drowning out details of other people’s conversations, until Will had felt they were alone in the beautiful ocean.
Once they were deliciously tired from the salt water and fresh air, Will spread out to dry off in the sun while Patrick huddled beneath a rented umbrella with his floppy hat, scads of titanium dioxide sunscreen, and read his trashy vampire book. Then they’d made out like teenagers behind a rock outcropping before jumping into the rented Porsche to head back.
As far as Will’s concerned, it’s been a perfect day. His shoulders are loose, his spirits high, and his skin more tan than ever before. In contrast, Patrick is red, hungry, and grumpy. Despite his best efforts not to burn, he’s pink all over and freckles have burst out on his shoulders, arms, and chest like hidden treasure surfacing. Will loves them, but Patrick finds them annoying. At the moment, tired and hungry as he is, Patrick seems to findeverythingannoying.
Will doesn’t care. He thinks Patrick’s adorable this way and, on the drive home, he gave him a kiss on his wrist for every grouchy comment.
“That idiot valet better not scratch that perfect piece of machinery,” Patrick grumbles as he watches the young man pull away in the Porsche.
Will grabs his arm and kisses his wrist again.
“Stop that,” Patrick mutters. “You’re getting me all slobbery.”
Will licks his wrist this time.
Patrick rolls up the sleeve of his T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of half a glass of water and the words “Half air. Half water. Technically, the glass is always full.”He pokes at his red shoulder. “I better book an appointment with an dermatological oncologist when I get home to get a jump on the incipient skin cancer treatment.”
“You’re barely red.”
“All burns are—”
“Bad burns. I know.” Will kisses Patrick’s wrist again.
Eyes flit their way in disgust, a subtle homophobia he’s almost forgotten about in the strangely safe enclave that is Healing, South Dakota. For the most part, the resort in Hawaii has been a safe haven as well, but there’s plenty of anti-gay sentiment in the world, and lots of their fellow tourists have brought it along with them.
“Slather me with aloe and then kiss my asshole for an hour and I’ll be happy again,” Patrick mutters. A woman standing too near gasps, and Patrick glares at her. “Mind your own business.”
“Don’t worry,” Will says to her as they pass. He giggles, feeling drunk from the hours in the sun and water. “I like kissing his asshole.” He doesn’t know what’s possessed him. That sort of comment is more Patrick’s speed, but he laughs even harder at her shocked face.
“Someone needs to loosen up, huh?” he says as they push deeper into the main lobby, heading toward the boat back to their suite. “She’d probably like her asshole kissed too.”
“Mmm,” Patrick says, noncommittally. “I’m hungry. Let’s order room service. Plates and plates of room service.”
Will smiles. Patrick’s in the food zone now and nothing will distract him from it, not even the joy of scandalizing the other tourists.
“William Patterson! Where on earth have you been?”
Patrick jolts to a stop before Will does and they slam together. Will blinks rapidly, his skin racing with goosebumps at the shrill sound of his mother’s voice.
No. It’s impossible. It can’t be.
Slowly, they turn to find Kimberly standing a few feet away in the lobby, her hands on her hips, sunglasses slung low on her nose so she can glare at them, and her silk sundress dancing in the constant Hawaiian breeze.
“Mom?” Will swallows hard. “What are you doing here?”
Patrick pinches the bridge of his nose, whispering, “You’vegotto be kidding me.”
“What am I doing here? I’ll tell you what I’m doing here,” she says, striding toward him on three-inch heels. She points a perfectly manicured nail into his chest. “You, young man. You’re the reason I’m here. You didn’t call me!”
Will’s heart squeezes and releases. “Because I’m on my honeymoon?” he asks, somehow unsure of that given everything that’s transpired in the last few days. “And I’m fine?” He swallows thickly. “Is there something wrong? Is everyone okay?” Uncle Kevin? Is he—”
Kimberly dismisses his concern with a fast wave of her hand. “Everyone’s fine at home. But you? You arenotfine! I heard about your trip to the ER!”
