Page 142 of My Heart Still Beats
“The enchiladas. They’re done.”
I move away from her, chuckling. “Saved by the bell, so they say.”
She turns around, swallows, and meets my gaze. “I don’t think I wanted to be saved that time, Ben.”
I lean against her kitchen counter. “It’s not a bad thing. It will give us both a chance to cool off. You went to the trouble to make dinner, and I plan to enjoy it.”
She smiles. It’s a weak smile, but a genuine smile. Different from the other weak smiles I’ve seen on her beautiful face lately.
She grabs a couple of potholders and pulls two pans out of the oven.
“Cheese enchiladas and refried beans,” she says. “They’ll need a few minutes to cool.”
I inhale the spicy and robust aroma. “Smells delicious.”
She picks up her margarita and takes a sip. “I hope so. I’ve never made these without my mom’s help. Like I said, I’m not really a cook, other than a killer guac. But I felt like making my mom’s recipes today.”
I squeeze her arm. “Probably because you’re missing your dad.”
She nods. “He loved my mom’s Mexican food. He said he could eat it every day.”
I pick up my margarita and drain it.
“You want another?”
“No.”
She frowns.
I hold up a hand. “No, it’s not that I didn’t like it. I just don’t want to have more than one drink tonight. I want to have all my faculties about me, because when I kiss you again, Tessa, I want to be fully aware of everything I’m doing. I don’t want a buzz to keep me from enjoying our time together.”
She smiles again. It’s weak but genuine. “Okay. Have a seat.” She motions to her small table where two place settings are set.
Glasses of water are already poured, and she picks up my plate, serves me some enchiladas and a glop of refried beans, and sets it back down. She serves herself and sits down across from me. She closes her eyes for a few moments, then opens them.
“Dig in,” she says.
“Were you…praying?”
Her cheeks blush a bit. “Yes and no. I already told you I left my parents’ religion long ago, but I like to always express gratitude before I eat. I’ve gotten out of the habit, but it seems more important than ever now that I express gratitude for everything I have. I want to remember that no matter what struggles I’m having, my life is actually pretty darned good, and I’m grateful.”
“Your heart still beats,” I say softly.
“Yeah.” Her brown eyes are warm as she looks at me. “You told me that on the plane going to Jamaica.”
“I did.” I pick up my fork and look down at my plate. “Something I have to remind myself of a lot. Especially lately.”
“Something going on?”
I smile. “No. Everything’s fine.”
I can’t burden her with my problems. I could make them go away in an instant with money, at least for now, but then they’d only come back to haunt me again.
I have to figure out a better way.
“Tell me more about your religion while you were growing up,” I say.
She lifts her eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to hear more about that?”
