His Every Need by Terri L. Austin

mocking grin, kissed
     the back of it. When she tried to snatch it from his grasp, he allowed her to pull
     away. “I think you’re suffering from too much responsibility and low blood sugar.
     You barely touched your breakfast. What sounds good, Asian fusion or Italian?”
    ***
    Allie didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant. It was pointless to argue with
     him. But she was frustrated—with her family, with Trevor, with her life. Sitting across
     the table from him in one of the most expensive Asian restaurants in the city, she
     gazed out at a fountain along the Strip.
    Trevor ordered without consulting her. Big surprise. After several minutes of silence,
     he leaned toward her. “They’re not helpless, you know. They’re fully capable human
     beings. Even the young one. She won’t perish without you.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    “Then explain it to me.”
    Allie stared into Trevor’s eyes and found herself unable to look away. The spell was
     broken when the waiter brought a huge platter of food and set it between them.
    “Do you really want to know?” she asked once he’d gone.
    Trevor nodded. “Yes, I really do. Now hand me your plate. I’ll play Arnold, shall
     I?”
    She took a steadying breath. She didn’t like talking about it, but she had to make
     him understand. “My mom got sick five years ago. Breast cancer. I left college and
     came home to look after the girls. I thought it would only be one semester, maybe
     two. She had a mastectomy and chemo, and for nine months the prognosis was good.”
     She picked up her fork and ran the tines over the tablecloth. “But then they found
     a lump in the other breast.” Allie stopped for a second. She glanced out the window
     and watched the water spray toward a bright blue sky. She cleared her throat. “Eventually,
     it metastasized to her bones. She had radiation, hormone therapy. They even tried
     this experimental medicine.” She licked her lips and looked at him.
    Trevor said nothing as he handed her a plate.
    “Last Easter she broke her leg. She’d just been standing there and suddenly, she collapsed.”
     Allie gazed down at the platter but didn’t see the food. She saw her mom, who looked
     so much like Monica, wearing a bright red chenille bathrobe, asking if anyone wanted
     another pot of coffee, then she fell to the ground.
    “One minute she was fine, the next she wasn’t.” Allie took a sip of her wine. With
     a trembling hand, she set her glass down and it clinked against her plate. “She died
     in November, right before Thanksgiving.”
    She saw nothing but compassion in his eyes. Sardonic, self-absorbed Trevor she could
     handle. But a Trevor with real feelings and a bit of empathy? No way.
    She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over and once again cleared
     her throat. Talking with Trevor, telling him about her mother’s illness, made her
     chest feel a little lighter somehow. She rarely spoke about it with her family. Her
     dad would start crying and leave the room, Brynn would do the same, and Monica barely
     mentioned Mom anymore.
    She found Trevor staring at her, those gray eyes sharp and compassionate at the same
     time. “What about you?” she asked. “How old were you when your parents died?”
    His eyes became shuttered and the compassion was gone. In its place was his normal,
     slightly taunting gaze. He stabbed a shrimp with his fork and held it up to her. “Mmm,
     try the lobster sauce. It’s delicious.”
    Allie let him shovel food into her mouth. “Very good. Is it painful to talk about?
     Your parents, I mean?”
    His face became devoid of expression, and he fed her a piece of braised Kobe spare
     rib. “Not at all, I assure you.”
    He was hiding something, she could feel it. But what else was new? “Tell me something
     about yourself. All I know is that you’re a businessman who collects things like engraved
     metal biscuit tins. Which in case you didn’t know, is