“Yes, of course.” I smile. “I want to hear all about New York.”
“You know you’re lucky you have me, right?” he says the words I hear about ten times a day.
“I do,” I agree with him.
“Your focus should be on me tonight, especially since I’ve been gone for the last three days.”
“Of course.” I take another bite. “I’ll turn off the phone,” I say, switching the phone off, my heart feeling very heavy in my chest as I do it. The screen shows my mother not only called; she also left me a voicemail. The screen turns black and the back of my neck burns but I fight it, turning to him. “So, tell me all about New York.”
four
Kirby
I press the button on the parking meter, waiting for the machine to spit out a slip. Snatching it, I pull into the first parking spot I see. I take my phone out of the center console and grab the iced coffee, along with the white bag that holds a blueberry muffin in it, before slamming the SUV door shut.
The sun is high in the sky and it’s already burning my head and I’m wearing a baseball hat. I walked out of on-ice practice twenty minutes ago with my hair wet from the shower and it’s already dry. I make my way into the hospital, the glass doors opening when I get under the sensor, and the cool air hits me right away.
I’m making my way over to the elevators when I spot her. She’s standing in front of her husband, who has his white coat on. His hands are in his pockets while he says something to her. She’s wearing white pants that go all the way to the floor, but fall just short of it because of the brown wedges she’s wearing. Her blue-and-white striped, long-sleeved button-down shirt is folded and tucked in with a big brown belt wrapped around her tiny fucking waist. She has two gold bracelets on her wrist with a gold watch and that big-ass fucking diamond on her finger.
“I have a reputation to uphold.” I hear his voice as she nods at him. Her hair is parted today like it was the other day, but it’s tied in the back at the nape of her neck in a ponytail. “Don’t embarrass me. You know your role here.”
“Trent,” she says his name, “I have a meeting with Cheryl and thought I would bring you coffee. I didn’t think it would be that bad.” Her voice wavers and she looks a bit uncomfortable as if she did something wrong by coming to visit her husband at work. She’s saying what he wants to hear and I have to think if she maybe said what she said about me just so she could placate him.
“It’s not bad,” he says softly, holding the cup in his hand. “I just don’t like you surprising me at work. We went over this. I like to know when you are coming.”
“Well, it was a last-minute meeting and I didn’t want to disturb you,” she murmurs and she looks over and sees me. Her eyes flash with something before she looks back at her husband.
“Hey, you two,” I say, stopping by them, not even trying to hide the smile on my face, knowing that he thinks he’s better than anyone here. “Nice to see you guys here.” She looks at me, not saying a word, and I have to wonder if she even knows who she is. Is this the real Lexi or was she forced to be this Lexi? “I’m here to visit with some of the kids,” I announce, even though neither of them has asked, “and then I think we all have a meeting with Cheryl, right?” I look right at her, knowing she has to answer.
She puts one hand in the other. “Yes.” She gives me a fake smile. “Cheryl and I will be meeting with all of you in an hour.”
“Sounds good.” I turn back to look at her husband, who is just watching. “I’ll let you go save lives.” I chuckle and smack the side of his arm, knowing he will probably fucking hate it. “The real hero of the place.”
I nod to both of them before walking away, hearing her words again as I press the button to go up to my sister. I’m too good for him. I don’t even know why I’m still harping on it a week later. I should care less; I’ve been called worse. Far worse by people who lived in my own house.
I step into the elevator, pressing the fourth-floor button before going to the back and waiting for the doors to close. My head turns to where I know they are, or at least were, finding them still standing there. He leans in and kisses her cheek and I have to roll my eyes. Who the fuck kisses their wife like that? She smiles at him and then turns to walk away. Instead of watching his wife, he turns to walk away from her and dumps the coffee cup in the trash.
I look down at my feet, trying to fight back the anger that is creeping up in my blood. Looking up when the elevator doors open, I walk toward my sister’s office. She’s on the phone when I stick my head in, and she holds up a hand to say hello. Her eyes go big when I place the iced coffee on her desk with the white bag next to it. Her hands go into the shape of a heart. “I have you down for next Thursday at noon,” she confirms. “I will see you then.” She puts the phone back on its receiver.
“Who is my best big brother,” she says, grabbing the coffee, “ever?”
“That would be me.” I sit in the chair, taking off my hat and tossing it in the chair beside me, before running my hand through my hair. “Let me ask you something.”
“Ugh, I know,” she starts, grabbing the bag, “three thousand is a lot for a dress. But it’s gorgeous and was literally made for me.” My eyebrows pinch together. “If it makes you feel better, I bought the shoes myself.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask her and she takes a piece of the muffin.
“I’m talking about the dress I bought on your credit card this weekend,” she explains, leaning back in her chair. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t even know you used my credit card. I also don’t give a shit.”
“Good to know, I should have also charged the shoes to you,” she mumbles. “What has you all uptight and shit?”
“I’m not uptight.” I glare at her. “Anyway, I have a question for you.”
“Obviously, I’m a woman, so I have all the answers.” She smiles at me and then winks.
“Do you think Mom knew Mac was a narcissist when she met him?” I mention my stepfather, who came into our lives when I was eight and my sister was three. Our father passed away from a heart attack, and six months later my mother started dating Mac. The way Lexi acts around her husband reminds me of how we used to walk on eggshells around Mac and cater to his needs. How we would make sure to act the way we thought he wanted us to act. How we would say what he wanted to hear. How it didn’t matter what we wanted; it mattered what he thought we wanted.
