Can you not ruin everything?I scolded myself.
Lexi was looking at me in concern.
“I just—” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s fine. The movies are fine.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought—”
“I said it was fine.” It came out more harshly than I intended.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
You already opened up to her too much. Tell her you misunderstood. Tell her! She’s going to walk away.
“We could just read books instead,” Lexi offered. “I just downloaded a good one on my Kindle. It’s about this woman who gets abducted by aliens, but it’s a funny book, not like bad abducted. Uh, or … er …”
“Lexi,” I said desperately, “please don’t do that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
“No,” I said, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Please don’t censor yourself because you think I’m going to get angry or yell at you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You could never,” I said helplessly. “I’d do anything for you.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“I don’t watch shows or movies or anything,” I said in a rushed whisper, “because the TV was constantly on.”
“In the cellar,” she said, eyes wide but glued to mine.
She grabbed my hands.
“There were six of us boys down there, and my father had placed a crappy old TV there to keep us occupied. It was a small space, and we couldn’t go outside, and the TV was on constantly—when we ate, when we fought, when we slept. After the—well, when I was in foster care, it was the same, just constant noise. All I wanted was—”
“Some peace and quiet,” she finished.
“I don’t know why there’s a movie room in the penthouse,” I explained. “I didn’t want it.”
“Then have it torn out.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I said wryly, “but I’m a little behind on home improvement projects.” I squeezed her hands.
“You know what you need?” she said determinedly. “A trip to Florida. You can’t be sad in the Florida sunshine.”
“Sure,” I said, willing to agree to anything if she just wouldn’t leave me. “Pick a date, and I’ll have the plane ready.”
“The plane?” Her mouth fell open. “I—but—”
“Sweetheart, if I have to go to Florida, I’m not flying commercial.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know whether to be offended or happy.”
The corner of my mouth quirked. “Little of column A, little of column B.”
She punched me lightly in the abs. “Ow! You really do work out a lot.”
“Not much else to do when you’re sleepless at three in the morning. It’s that or drink,” I said with a dark laugh.
