Page 29 of Saving His Heart

The mood has definitely shifted between Preston and me. The stress of having things move so quickly has been put on hold. It’s replaced with a tension I’ve never felt before.It’s not sexual tension, Emory. It’s not.But holy balls, that kiss? I’d be a lying sack of shit if I said it hasn’t been on constant replay in my head.

We arrived at the infusion center in uptown thirty minutes ago, hand in hand.

“For show,” Preston had assured me, but nothing about it felt showy to me.

Mr. T is late again, and I want to ask the nurses about him, but I’m so nervous about being here as it is. I don’t want to cause any issues that would have them rethinking my volunteer status. I’m lucky they accepted me as it is.

I’m wiping down a chair that a patient just vacated when I hear my name.

“There’s Miss Emory. I was hoping I would see you today,” Mr. T says hoarsely as he slowly ambles my way. I’ve been saving his chair in the back corner in the hopes I would catch him. Since I met him, he only wants to sit in that one chair. I don’t know if it’s because it keeps him mostly hidden or because he just likes routine, but I always save it for him when I can.

“Mr. T!” I’m so happy to see him. I wrap him in a giant hug and am saddened when I feel how frail his bones have become. “How are you?” I ask as I help him to the back to get settled into the oversized recliner.

“Times a ticking, if you know what I mean. I want to hear about you, Emory, not talk about my failing health. Tell me about that man of yours.”

“Mr. T, I’ve told you so many times, he’s just my boss, that’s it.”

No matter how many times we have this discussion, my old friend refuses to believe it.

“I don’t believe you. Does he treat you well?”

“Of course he does. Because I am his em-ploy-ee.” I stretch out ‘employee’ into as many syllables as possible.

“Right, you said that, didn’t you?” he says playfully. “How’s your new apartment? It’s in his building, isn’t it?”

“You’re cheeky today, aren’t you?”

“I’m just making sure when I’m gone, you’re in good hands, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Mr. T, but I am very capable of taking care of myself,” I say with a kind smile. I know he means well, but he has been barking up this Preston tree for as long as I’ve known him.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s wrong with him? He comes in here every week, and yet you still won’t tell me.”

Sighing, I say, “I’ve told you, it isn’t my story to tell. You could ask him yourself if you’d like.”

“Nah, Itoldyou, I don’t like talking to people.”

“You talk to me just fine,” I point out.

“You’re pretty to look at.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as I laugh.

“Okay, well, the same rules apply. It isn’t my story to tell, so let’s talk about something else. Have you had any visitors lately? Have you been able to get in touch with your family?”

He told me once that he messed up when he was younger, and he lost his family because of it. He hasn’t gone into more detail other than to say he lost them a long time ago and that they are beyond repair at this point. It makes me sad for him.

We sit and do crosswords, just like every other time. Sometimes talking, sometimes he makes me get the dictionary for a word he is sure I made up. I’m just happy that for this hour every week, I can give him companionship.

I see Preston at the door just as Mr. T is finishing up. He isn’t allowed in the chemo room, so he usually just stands in the foyer and waits. I don’t know how long he stands and watches, but he has never rushed me. Sometimes, I’ll come out in search of him only to find Preston has confiscated two end tables and is working on his laptop.

“Why won’t you just text me when you’re done? You don’t have to wait for me like this, you know?”

“You love being here, Emory. I’m not going to take that away from you.”

I can’t help but stare at him. What billionaire CEO waits on his employee in the middle of the day every week just because it’s something they enjoy? “I have a hard time figuring you out sometimes.”

“I’m a mystery for sure,” he smirks. Peering over my head, he asks, “Was Mr. T here today?”

“He was,” I say sadly. “He isn’t doing well, though.”