The Will of Love and Life (Peterick)

Chapter Eighteen

October 18, 2016

When Patrick was a kid, he wanted to be a doctor like his mother. But, when he learned of the possibility that he could be held liable for someone's death, he promptly shifted focus. He thought about being a musician, but the realization of having to perform in front of people made his anxiety give him a no. He thought about going to art school, but his parents quickly shot that down, citing that he would never make that money back, and there was no job security. Up to that point, Patrick had never lived without having an excess of money at his disposal, so the prospect of not having any scared him enough to push art back to the hobby section of his life.

Patrick was relatively content with the profession he did end up with. He would never go as far as to say that he loved it, because he didn't love anything, but he couldn't say that he didn't like it. However, it was days like this where Patrick wished that he had gone to school for literally anything else.

He hated meeting with people. He much preferred going to court over having people sitting in his office, staring at him with bovine expressions. He already had three consultations, and his next was too soon. He would kill Sarah for booking him solid the entire day if it wasn't for the fact that Breezy convinced her to do it as payback for the meeting he missed. Twice.

He was filling out paperwork when his office phone rang, and he was confused when he saw Sarah's extension show as the ID. She would normally just let herself into his office if she needed something, and when his appointments arrived, she would walk them back and knock six times so he had time to tone down his misery before opening the door.

"Hey, just a heads up. Your boyfriend's here, and he doesn't look particularly happy," Sarah whispered through the phone. "I let him in and said you weren't busy, so don't get too busy because you have an appointment in a half hour."

Sarah hung up before Patrick could reply. He started racking his brain, trying to figure out what he did that pissed Pete off. But, then again, everything pissed him off. They had a fight the night before, which almost turned into a screaming match and probably resulted in the entire neighborhood hearing about how selfish Patrick was and how demanding Pete was. But Patrick drove Pete to work this morning, and all was fine. They talked the entire ride and even kissed each other goodbye, so Patrick thought that Pete was over their fight. At least, he was.

But Pete wasn't a fighter, and Patrick knew that he wouldn't take the time out of his day to walk over and start the argument back up again. It was Patrick's nature, but definitely not Pete's.

Honestly, Patrick was afraid of Pete. Pete had him wrapped around his finger, and Patrick wasn't sure if he would be able to lose him. Or go any further.

But he was out of time to think when there was a knock on his door before it opened. Pete came in, shut the door behind him, and curled up in the chair across from Patrick's desk.

Patrick glanced up at his anxiety-stricken boyfriend. "What's wrong?" he asked with only a slight amount of hesitancy in his voice. He knew that on the off chance Pete was still angry about last night, he was going to get attacked for even asking that question.

Pete looked like he was going to cry, and Patrick was about to apologize again for being such a jerk to him, but he spoke before Patrick could. "My mom's coming."

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You heard me," Pete said, getting testy. "She's your three o'clock. She's not coming for you to write her will or a trust or anything. She's just going to attack you and tell you bad stuff about me and try to get us to break up. I told her about us, and she flipped the lid, and that was partly why I was so mad last night, and I'm just fucking awful, aren't I?"