You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 707

Patricia hadn’t gone into the office that day. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be there. She just couldn’t stop picturing Oliver, burning up with fever, collapsing somewhere on his way out and her not even being around to help. The thought of facing his family, trying to explain it all, made her stomach twist.

Sitting in the back of the car, Patricia scrolled through her phone, watching the live news. On the screen, Oliver stood at the podium, one hand on the lectern. He spoke so smoothly about his love for Riverdale, about how this city welcomed entrepreneurs and young people alike. The cameras caught everything, even the flush of red creeping into the corners of his eyes from the fever. Still, he managed to look composed, calm, in control.

He was almost too perfect sometimes. Just his looks alone could send half the women in the city into a daze. Sara had told her once that Oliver’s time in Golden Bay had caused no end of drama. Even his own mom, Lydia, called him trouble in a handsome package. No wonder Grandma Grace always seemed to have it in for him.

Marian was sitting next to Patricia, her eyes also glued to the phone. “He really is the most charming man I’ve ever seen,” she said, half to herself. “He’s got money, looks, a great figure, and most importantly, he’s good to you, Miss.”

She kept going. “Honestly, with that kind of presence, he puts all those internet celebrities to shame. I don’t get why anyone would go for those soft pretty boys online. Real men should have a bit of strength, like him.”

Patricia just smiled, not bothering to argue.

Marian turned to her. “You’re not still upset with him, are you?”

“I was never upset with him,” Patricia replied, trying to sound casual.

Marian laughed softly, squeezing her hand. “I’ve looked after you for years, Miss. You think I don’t know you by now? Listen to me. No matter how close I am or Jackson is, we’re not family. We can’t be with you forever. You and Mr. Padilla, you’re the ones who need to make a life together.”

She sounded so certain. “I’ve worked as a housekeeper for so long, and there’s one thing I always remember. People have to know where they belong. You’re kind to treat us like family, but you have your own. Mr. Padilla and your future children, they’re your real home.”

Patricia turned, a little surprised. “Why are you telling me all this right now?”

“I just worry you’ll get stubborn about the wrong things.”

Patricia let out a breath. “I won’t.”

“Even if you do, that’s okay,” Marian went on. “Everyone gets confused sometimes. As long as you snap out of it, it’s fine.”

Patricia didn’t say anything. She just looked out the window, lost in thought.

“We’re just trying to figure out how to get along,” she said finally. “That’s all.”

“Mr. Padilla will always be patient with you,” Marian said. She sounded so sure, like nothing could shake her faith in Oliver.

Patricia opened her mouth to reply, but just then, a sharp noise exploded from her phone—a mic hitting the ground, followed by screams and chaos. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver collapse on stage. The live feed cut out almost instantly.

Her heart jumped. Patricia fumbled for the door handle, ready to run out.

Marian caught her arm. “It’s too crowded out there. Mr. McKee is inside. Just wait here. If you get caught up in the mess, he’ll have to come find you, and that’ll just slow everything down.”

Marian was right. Not long after, a group of people came rushing out with Oliver, Hector right behind them, steadying Oliver as they hurried to the car. As soon as the door opened, Hector waved them in, and they laid Oliver across the seat.

Patricia shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Just a few bites, please. We can’t have you getting sick right when Uncle Oliver’s getting better.”

“I’m fine.”

Roger and Sara took turns trying to convince her, but she wouldn’t budge. In the end, Marian came in herself, bringing a bowl and coaxing her to take a few bites.

At seven thirty, the doctor came in to check Oliver’s temperature. Thirty-eight point one. The fever was lower, but not by much.

Patricia’s worry grew. “Then why hasn’t he woken up?”

“He needs rest to recover,” the doctor assured her. “Don’t worry. All his vital signs are stable.”

“Shouldn’t we run a full checkup?”

The doctor hesitated, about to say no, but then he caught Roger’s eye and changed his mind. “How about tomorrow morning? Even if we start now, the results won’t be ready until then.”

“Thank you,” Patricia said, voice barely audible.