it.”
“Well, at least I’ll still have you. Do you think, I mean, is it possible, we’ll fall in love if we change things?”
He was silent so long she lifted her head.
He looked wretched. “We won’t.”
“But it’s possible, right? I mean, anything’s possible, right?”
“Not with us.”
“But if someone can – wait,” she said. “I still have you, don’t I?” Her head spun toward P.J. and back to him. “I still keep you, Patrick, even if I lose Mark. I mean, you’re right there.”
“Kate …”
“Tell me!”
“Think about it. I’m from Boston, which is where I – the younger I – at least at present, am planning to find an assistant professor position. I take the job at Pitt when I graduate for one reason: to be near you. And the only thing that impels me to do that is that I’ve fallen in love with you while you’re dating Mark. No Mark tonight; no P.J. later.” He shook his head sadly. “Dominoes, Kate.”
“But you’re standing right over there. Can’t we just connect?”
But she already knew the answer. As soon as Patrick released her hand and this conversation was wiped from her head, she’d be too drunk on the thought of Mark to take the slightest notice of his pleasant but unremarkable friend.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “It’s me, too. Look at me over there, for God’s sake. I try to work up the courage to talk to you all night and never do. I have to collect the stupid tuxes, so I’m the last person here. I watch you leave with the final bunch of partygoers. I actually stand in the parking lot and watch Mark get in the car with you. How sad is that?”
She gazed across the nearly empty dance floor, out beyond the ballroom windows. It seemed so unfair. How could she be given such a gift for such a tiny period of time?
“I won’t do it,” she said simply. “I won’t change what happens if it means I lose you.”
He stopped so abruptly she nearly stumbled. “Kate, why do you think I’ve come here? I’m not trying to keep you from some pain. I wouldn’t dare – hell, I wouldn’t need to! You’re one of the strongest women I know. I would have happily stood at your periphery for
the rest of my life as you worked through it. I came because you’re gone, Kate. Kate the woman who lit any room she walked into is gone. And I can’t live with that.” Tears appeared in his eyes. “When it happens, it obliterates you, Kate. It absolutely obliterates you.”
She touched his arm, stunned. “So you’re giving up your own happiness to save me.”
“No courage required, Kate. You’re already gone.” He averted his face and dragged a sleeve across his cheek. “Jesus, look at me.”
She thought he meant his tears until she spotted P.J., who stood at attention, beer forgotten, his eyes cutting between Kate and Patrick.
“Let’s dance,” Patrick said. “He’s afraid you’re in trouble.”
She returned her head to Patrick’s shoulder, navigating the apprehension of a sacrifice so selfless she wondered if she would experience it again in her lifetime. Oh, how she was dreading the end of the song.
The singer had reached the place where, alone and stripped of her pride, she’d reach out with all her heart and hope her love was returned.
“Promise me,” he said huskily.
“What good is a promise,” she cried. “I won’t even remember.”
“It’s the only hope I have.”
What could she say to a man who’d come from half a lifetime away? There was only one choice, and he had earned it. “I promise.”
He took her in his arms as the singer began the last, lingering chorus. She clutched Patrick’s shoulder, trying to absorb enough of him not only to carry her through tonight, but through a lifetime. She could feel the flutter of his breath in her hair. They had not even kissed. She laced her fingers into his.
The keyboardist played the last plaintive chord, which drifted and drifted until it was gone, and the room fell