Page 77 of Pieces of Heaven

Except here I am trying to save her. Maybe we’re both fools.

“Why did you name her Rose the Cat?”

“For years, I told people how I never had time to read. After my parents died, I tried to relax with a book. As a kid, I read ‘The Shining.’ So, I decided the first book I’d read was the sequel, ‘Doctor Sleep.’ There’s a character named Rose the Hat. I thought naming the cat what I did was clever, but it sounds far less so when I explain it out loud.”

Xenia laughs again. Her expression loses its earlier worry. She’s returned to the lovesick woman blinded to all other problems.

She doesn’t complain about the bland food or the restaurant’s humidity. She ignores everyone except the man she’s fallen for.

We talk about books she might read. I learn she was a good but not great student. She views herself as above average at most things, yet never exceptional. I don’t know who she sees as great if she’s only a little better than normal.

I think Xenia’s fascinating. She talks casually about stuff that would normally bore me, yet I only want more. I just ask her a question and sit back while she takes me on a journey through her hopes and dreams.

“If you could travel to one place on a vacation right now, where would you go? Before you answer, assume this is the last trip you’ll ever take, so pick carefully.”

Xenia grins at my stipulation before considering her answer. I can see how much she’d love to see the world. Xenia deserves to get what she wants, but I need her to remain in the Valley with me.

However, maybe I could force myself to leave for one trip. I could get a passport and face flying in the air. A week is only seven days. I could handle that long away from McMurdo Valley.

“I’d go to Italy,” she says, and my brain tries to picture me in a country I know nothing about. “I’d travel from the north to the south, trying the local cuisine as I went along. If that was my one trip, I think I’d be satisfied.”

Xenia doesn’t ask if I wish to go anywhere. She knows I’d already have taken a trip if I had any interest. I’m not afraid to be alone. I have the money to travel for a year straight. Shit, I have so much money that I don’t even know how much. I’ve barely spent anything I make since Kourtney started supporting herself.

I give some to the local animal refuge full of discarded animals. I’ve also donated money to that charity Wynonna’s putting together to help poor moms and kids like Landry was before Nomad bulldozed into her life.

I toss money around to lots of people, but I don’t think I’ve used up much. I just stopped giving a shit years ago. If an asshole wanted to steal from a dupe, he’d pick me, and I wouldn’t even notice.

Today, though, I consider what I can buy with that money. First off, I’d save Xenia’s business. I could buy the property and become her landlord. She’d be able to keep her shop open for the club and our friends.

I’d also build her a house with high ceilings and big windows. Xenia could design her dream kitchen. I’d get fat from all her good cooking. That fantasy feels almost possible.

Yet, I don’t know if I want to live in this fantasy house that I’m fixing to build her.Can a man accustomed to no walls settle comfortably inside a box, even if it’s the prettiest fucking box in the county?

After our meal, we head to the movies. Not many people are around, and the movie is boring. Xenia keeps wanting to make out, so we just fool around for two hours.

During this experiment I’m doing—the whole normal-couple dating thing—I keep trying to picture my grumpy ass shoved into a standard life.

I’m restless as we walk out to the parking lot as more people arrive for the later showings. Xenia glances around the parking lot as we reach her SUV.

“Do you think we can spend time in the back seat?” she asks as a kid loses his shit nearby.

I shake out my shoulders and feel like I’m in a slowly compressing cage. Xenia studies me before asking the question she skipped hours ago.

“Why did we bring my car and your bike?”

“I didn’t want to drop you off at the shop.”

Xenia’s feelings are immediately hurt, though I doubt she knows exactly why.

“That road,” I say, answering her unspoken questions, “gets dark and private after sunset. If someone wants to start trouble, that’ll be a good place to do it.”

“Who is the ‘someone’ in this scenario?”

“I thought I saw some guys tailing me earlier.”

Xenia’s gray eyes scan the theater parking lot located in McMurdo Valley’s neighbor, Locust Pines. When her gaze returns to me, she cups my face.

“Can we go to a tent? Or get a hotel room?”

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