“I am.” I jump up and hurry to him. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’ll be fine. He will need to carry an EpiPen with him going forward in case it happens again. We’ve issued three to him in the meantime. He has to stay for observation for an hour or so, but then you can take him home. He’s a bit groggy, but he should be fine. The nurse will take you to him.” The doctor smiles and heads off to his next patient, and I follow the nurse to a bed where Dominic is resting, looking a bit drunk.
I smile at him. “Hey, you look terrible.”
“I feel terrible,” he slurs, bobbing his head from side to side.
“Did you fill in the forms?” I ask.
“I spoke, a nurse wrote,” he says. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
In anticipation, I move my seat a little bit away from the bed, but he simply sways his head from side to side. “It hurts like a bitch. Look how swollen I am.”
He holds his hand up, and it does look terrible. I feel bad for him and give him a reassuring smile. “It’s karma. You were a dick to me, and this is how the universe paid you back.”
“I am a dick; I won’t deny it.” he grins at me, and I swear his eyes are cross-eyed. He rests back and closes his eyes, so I say, “Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” he mumbles. “Thanks.” He starts snoring shortly after that.
I sit there for an hour and a half before he wakes up again. He snorts as he wakes up and looks around, wincing. “My hand is so sore,” he groans. “This is some next-level bullshit.”
I smile and stand up. “Well, let’s get home, and I’ll make you something to eat. Food always makes me feel better.”
He grumbles, but he gets up, staggering a little. I grab the little packet marked for his attention with his EpiPens and painkillers and help him back to the car. There’s a ticket on the window because I didn’t move it, but I don’t care. It’s not my car. I help him into the passenger side before I go to the other side and climb in.
We drive in silence as I join traffic, making the quick trip home and stopping outside the gate. The guard comes to see who is in the car and then nods, opening the gate.
I help Dominic into the house, and he grumbles, “I think I’m just going to take some painkillers and go to bed.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Did the doctor check out your other injuries?”
Dominic nods. “Just bruising. The painkillers will help.”
“All right, I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, handing his medication to him in his good hand.
After a few missteps, I help him up the stairs and to his room, then leave him there. I’m not undressing the guy and getting him in bed.
I go back to my room and flop onto my bed with a sigh.
Chapter 21 - Dominic
To say I don’t sleep well is an understatement. I toss and turn the whole night, having painkiller-fueled dreams about Sofia and bees. It’s like I’ve taken acid or something, and I’m tripping.
The smell of bacon and eggs wakes me up. I sniff the air and lick my lips. I feel parched, and I cough lightly. My chest hurts a little.
My hand and face still ache, but the swelling is gone from my hand, so I go to the bathroom and drink some water, swallowing two painkillers just in case. My face looks slightly better. I can see out of both eyes, at least.
Once dressed, I head downstairs, following Sofia’s soft hums to the kitchen. The sound of the sizzling bacon is music to my ears, and I’m surprised to see two places set at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen.
“Good morning,” I say gruffly.
“Morning,” she says.
She’s wearing a summery dress, and she has legs for days. I can’t help but give her an appreciative once over.
“You were pretty out of it. Are you feeling better?” she asks, sliding the bacon onto a serving plate. “I made your eggs sunny side up. Is that OK?”
I blink, slightly confused, then startle slightly when the toaster pops up suddenly. I frown. What is wrong with me? Sofia chuckles.