Page 7 of Saving His Heart
Preston:I know you assholes knew about this. Couldn’t you have warned a guy? WTF am I supposed to do? We’re going to kill each other.
Julia: Hide.
Trevor: Just try to make the best of it.
Dexter: Don’t kill her.
Preston: Make the best of it? Are you fucking kidding me? Trevor, I’m going to kick you so hard in the balls they’ll land in your throat.
Trevor: Ouch, man. Not cool.
Dexter: I hope little Charlie doesn’t mind being an only child.
Preston: Dexter, you’re next. I swear you all suck.
Lanie: I don’t know why you guys don’t get along. I think you would make a cute couple.
Preston: Never. Seriously, Lanes. You’re delusional.
Dexter: Yes! Let’sMakeLexiPreston’s! MLP is a go!
Preston: Over my dead body.
* * *
I’m takingthe steaks out of the skillet when I sense Lexi behind me. Turning, I find her standing on the other side of the large, granite island. I want to make a smart-ass comment, but even I’m not that much of a dick. She looks tired and a little lost.
“You actually cook?” she asks, all the fight leaving her body as she slides onto a stool.
“Yeah, I-ah, my mother made sure we all knew how to cook and clean before we left for college. Cooking dinner with her was always our favorite chore, and we fought over it every night,” I tell her.
“That’s nice,” is all she says. I can see her hands are shaking, and her eyelids are droopy.
“Hey, so this will be ready in about ten minutes. Would you like some wine? It might help you sleep,” I suggest.
“Yes, please,” Lexi replies, the last bit of fight leaving her body in a whoosh.
I wish I could fix her.
That’s how I used to be. I used to be the fixer, the helper. I hated to see people hurting, but when I got the news of my condition, I knew I had to learn to keep people at arm’s length. My need to help Lexi is rooted deep, though, and I know I’ll be making another call to my assistant soon.
“Preston, you’re a billionaire, right?” Lexi asks.
“Ah, yeah,” I say, uncomfortably.
“Then why do you use such busted up pans?”
Usually, Lexi would have sounded sarcastic, rude even, but tonight it just comes out flat. Looking down at my pans, I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t know. I’ve had these since college, and they work fine. I guess I never thought about it.”
Lexi doesn’t reply. I watch as she runs her finger around the empty wineglass. Turning from her, I grab the bottle and fill it for her.
Dinner is quiet. We eat in near silence, and before Lexi has finished half of her meal, she stands and clears her plate.
“Just leave it, Lex, I’ve got you.”
She looks at me, nods her head, then wobbles back to her room. After a few steps, she turns around. “Dinner was delicious, thank you. You need new pans,” she says.
