Charlotte crossed over to him and rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this already. Our two departments don’t mix.”
“There’s a chapter on bacteria and germs,” Patrick pointed out, pausing to brush some lint off the collar of his button-down shirt. “We could find a way to work that in with some of the events ofLes Misérables. Didn’t Fantine contract tuberculosis and die?”
Charlotte went into the kitchen and selected two plates from the dryer. “You really want to teach a bunch of seventh graders about tuberculosis? Isn’t that depressing?”
Patrick peered through the containers. “It is, but it’s also a type of bacteria worth studying.”
Charlotte came back into the living room and then ducked back into the kitchen for cutlery. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know if there’s enough food.”
“You ordered enough to feed a small army.”
Charlotte’s face turned bright red. “I’m not much of a cook, so I like to get extra in case I’m in the mood for leftovers.”
Patrick lowered himself onto the couch and propped his feet up. “Just call me leftovers, then. As long as you feed me, I don’t care.”
Charlotte’s heart was jumping around inside of her chest.
It had been a while since Patrick had come over and even longer since he’d sat down for an extended conversation. When she sat down next to him, she kept thinking about how easy it would be to lean over and brush the errant lock of hair out of his eyes. Or how much she wanted to lean sideways and have him wrap his arm around her.
Easy there, girl. Patrick is your friend, remember?
She tried to shove the thought out of her head and returned to the food—and the handsome science teacher sitting across from her. They were halfway through the food and debating the merits of public and private school when the door clicked open. Her roommates, Heather and Gigi, came in, carrying shopping bags in each hand and with sweat shining on their foreheads.
Patrick immediately jumped to help them.
“Such a gentleman.” Heather patted his hand and gave him a bright smile. “I can’t believe no one has scooped you up yet, Patrick.”
He carried the bag into the kitchen and left it there. “I’m just waiting for the right woman.”
Gigi carried her bags to her room. “She might be closer than you think.”
Charlotte glared at their backs as they carried the rest of the bags inside, studiously avoiding her gaze the entire time. Once they were gone, she turned back to Patrick and forced a smile to her face.
“Sorry about them.” Charlotte linked her fingers together and exhaled. “They don’t know how to mind their own business, unfortunately.”
Patrick sat back on the couch and took one of the brochures out from between the pillows, where it was wedged. “You working on a project?”
Charlotte’s heart raced as she snatched it out of his hand. “A novel.”
Patrick nodded. “Cool. Well, I should get going. I have to take Milo for a walk before he chews through the floor.”
Charlotte got up to walk him to the door, pausing to wipe her hands on the back of her jeans. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Patrick twisted to face her, and his eyes darted down to her mouth and then back up to her face. “I love dropping by.”
Charlotte’s breath hitched in her throat. “Really?”
Patrick bridged the distance between them and opened his mouth. Then, one of the cats wedged itself between them and meowed, bringing the moment to an abrupt halt. Blinking, Patrick bent down to scratch the cat behind the ear and murmur something under his breath. Then, he gave Charlotte one more smile before he left.
Two days later, during another family game night, this time at her great-aunt Rebecca’s house, Charlotte was still thinking about the almost kiss.
And when the topic of Liam and Laura’s postponed wedding came up, Charlotte found her mind wandering to the question of surrogacy.
But she was having a harder and harder time dismissing it as a bad idea.
Are you really going to go through with this?
Chapter Eight
