Page 108 of Saving His Heart

“Emory, look at me.”

Slowly, she raises her gaze to meet mine.

“You can never let me down, okay?”

“You don’t know that, Preston.”

“I do because I have a faith in you that you haven’t found yet. But you will, I promise.”

With teary eyes, she asks, “Christmas dinner, ham or turkey?”

“Is that a real question?” I ask. “There is no debate. Turkey is for Thanksgiving. Christmas ham all the way.”

“Agreed. Homemade or catered?”

“Emory, give me some credit here. Sylvie would kick my ass if holiday meals were ever catered.”

“Okay, good. I’ve never been able to give my sisters a proper holiday dinner, but—”

“They’ll never miss one of ours, I promise. Your family is my family, no matter what. We may need to invest in a bigger place, though,” I say, happy we’re finally on topic.

“Bigger? Preston, my dad’s entire house can fit in your apartment.”

“Our apartment, Emory. Ours.” Now I know I’ve made the right decision. “What’s your dream home like?” I ask as I guide her to the bed when Lanie pops up out of nowhere.

“Hey, guys! We’re going to get out of here. There is plenty of wood to keep the fire going. The remote is tucked into the headboard for the movie, and there are trays set up for your drinks. Have fun.”

Before we can thank her, she’s scurrying toward the road where I can make out shadows of my entire family. Family by blood and family by choice, it’s all the same.

“How did you get everyone here for this?”

“I just asked, Emory. That’s what family does for each other. I wish you could have seen the shit we went through for Dex. But, back to the question.” I hold her drink as she climbs up onto the bed that must be four feet off the ground, at least. “What’s your dream home look like?”

After placing our drinks on the end table, I climb in next to her.

“Honestly? I don’t know, Pres. I’ve never thought about it.”

Tucking her into my arm, I pull the blankets up around our legs. “Let’s dream it up together then. Mansion or cottage?”

“Ah, isn’t there a middle ground here?”

Chuckling, I agree, “Okay, something in the middle. Country French-Style or Tudor?”

“Neither of those sound middle of the road. I guess if I had to choose, it would be Country French because I’d want it to be livable. I could never be comfortable in a show home.”

“Me either, and I’m all for comfortable living. That’s how I designed the penthouse. I wanted people to come in and feel at home.”

“You did a great job.”

“How do you feel about a sex swing in the bedroom?”

I catch her off guard, and she chokes on her Forever After.

“Geez, warn a girl,” she admonishes when she’s caught her breath.

“Sorry,” I chuckle. “So, note to self, no sex swings. What’s one thing your dream home would have?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she answers immediately. “My dream home would have a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a rolling ladder, and lots of big, comfy couches to sink into while I read.”