Distracted, Patrick’s room remained unpacked as he courted Gemma. He had watched her, nerves getting the better of him each time he tried to ask her on a date. Homework failed to inspire the romantic vibes intended but determined to make it work in his favour. Emilie pulled a pan from the box, feeling their surprise house guest deserved a decent meal, noting with Charlotte increasing the phone bill with calls to Caleb, and her sister, to share everything; it seemed the food was unimportant.
The books sat untouched on the table; Patrick showed Gemma comedic videos he found online, subtle opportunities to touch her hand, arm, and face. Emilie spied from the kitchen; her son’s technique needed work. Ducking back into the kitchen, Emilie felt voyeuristic; Patrick leaned in, a stolen kiss, the girl giggled and kissed him back, they were lip-locked in the lounge and with dinner ready, Emilie wondered if she dared interrupt. Charlotte resolved the issue, making honking noises, revolted at the sight; Patrick punched her arm as they grabbed food piled plates.
The converted church Rylan purchased lost the homey feel Emilie strived to achieve their married life. The main building offered a spacious kitchen, dining and family area, with a second lounge and bedroom. Her bedroom had views of Newcrest, Emile perched on the bed stroking the vacancy, the moment she should have shared and the children who distanced themselves from the family, she tried and missed Rylan.
Patrick and Charlotte wrestled for their choice of bedroom in the opposing cottage. In a former life, it housed the mortuary; the Furniss transformed into a sauna, two bedrooms with on-suites were storage places and prepared the dead, a cinema room and bar, all beneath the ground were proud areas to showcase urns. The entrance comprised a kitchen; Patrick fed Gemma by hand; grilled cheese sandwiches, the two getting cosy made Charlotte jealous as Caleb seemed reluctant to move things towards an intimate meeting. She stormed to the main building, forced to spend time with her mother.
With the place to himself, sticky-fingered and distracted by kisses, Patrick stumbled downstairs; Gemma giggled, tugging at his shirt. Patrick grinned, his hands on Gemma’s waist, kicking the bedroom door shut; laughter followed, shuffling, the momentary silence and the erupted of pleasure. For a long term girlfriend, Patrick shrugged the idea, why tie himself to one woman, an abundance of fish awaited for him to feast upon. Burnt eggs with toast, a family staple, served to his family with a smile plastered to his face. Emilie watched him, disappointment and concern difficult, to hide; Gemma had disappeared early, and Patrick seemed careless as he talked of another girl he met at the movies called Julianna.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 