You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 374

Oliver looked like he was nursing the world’s worst headache.

“You’re awake. Does your head hurt?”

“Yeah,” Oliver grumbled, his voice all rough and scratchy.

“Want some medicine?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m good.”

“Could you ask Pattie to run a bath for me? I really need a soak right now.”

Patricia got up and went to start the water. Oliver just sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, gathering himself, before finally heading for the bathroom. As he shuffled past Patricia, he muttered, “Go downstairs first. If my uncle’s around, just tell him I’m still asleep.”

Patricia blinked at him. “Why?”

Mr. Padilla answered for him. “The worse I look, the happier he gets.”

Patricia couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Seriously, these two were old enough to know better, but still acted like kids.

Sure enough, when Patricia went downstairs, Atticus was already parked in the living room, coffee in hand.

He looked up. “Where’s Oliver?”

Patricia told the truth. “Still asleep.”

Atticus just snorted. “Coward.”

Patricia just shook her head. Honestly.

It was the fourth day of the new year, bright and clear outside. Grandma had lived in Springfield for years and had made so many friends. All day long, people were dropping by to visit and catch up.

Maggie and Chelsea floated around, greeting guests, making sure everyone had coffee and cake.

During a lull, one of the guests turned to Grandma. “I heard your granddaughter’s back for the holidays. Haven’t seen her yet!”

“Young people, right? Not like us old folks. We’re only here because of fate,” the guest joked.

Grandma nodded, then found an excuse to lead her guest outside for a walk.

Once they were gone, Atticus let out a dramatic sigh and tossed out, “Getting old…”

Oliver didn’t even bother responding. He knew exactly what Atticus meant by that dig.

The guest’s grandson was Chelsea’s age, just a few months younger than Patricia. And Oliver… well, he was six years older than Patricia.

Atticus was definitely poking at him.

By the end of the chess game, Oliver had taken out all his frustration on the board, leaving Atticus with nothing.

Leaning back with his tea, Oliver looked at the wreckage of the chess pieces and tossed out, “Guess I really am getting old.”

Atticus could only stare at him, completely lost for words.