The sadness in my chest dissipates. “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He tilts my chin, forcing me to look at him. The space between us constricts, as if we’re all alone in our little bubble and nothing else matters. “You’re not a punch line, angry girl.” Cupping my face, he brushes my tears away with his thumbs, his mouth mere centimeters from mine. So close, yet so far. “You’re—”
Asher clears his throat, popping our bubble. “Should we leave?”
Breslin pokes him in the bicep. “Seriously?”
Landon’s face scrunches. “Way to ruin the moment.”
Asher shrugs. “My bad. I just wanted to know if the party was over or not.”
“No,” I say over my shoulder at the same time Preston grunts, “Yes.”
That’s when I remember. “Congratulations.”
The three of them beam, and then Asher and Landon look at each other and laugh. “It got a little complicated—with both of us proposing and all—but in the end it all worked out.”
I’m about to ask for all the details, but the doctor walks in. “Your grandmother said someone had an issue and needed to be seen.”
That’s putting it mildly.
“Yes.” I gesture to Preston as I get off his lap, but he tightens his hold, ensuring I stay right where I am. “He’s the patient.”
“Ah. We meet again.” The doctor places his suitcase on the bed beside us and fetches his stethoscope. “What happened?”
“Seafood happened,” Asher chimes in, much to Preston’s dismay.
Sweet baby Jesus. “Why don’t you three go and enjoy the rest of your engagement party.”
They start to decline, but I assure them it’s fine.
Begrudgingly they leave, but Asher lingers by the door. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking like a fish out of water. “I appreciate you kicking Rivera’s ass before. It meant a lot—”
“You can show your appreciation by getting the fuck out.” Preston’s glare is filled with so much venom, I wince. “Now.”
Whatever hopes Asher might have had about repairing his relationship with his brother are dashed once again.
He looked so defeated when he leaves the room my chest hurts.
As if anticipating my potential badgering, Preston’s eyes lock on mine with a punch I feel in my gut. “Don’t start.”
I concede, but I’m not letting him off the hook so easily. We’ll discuss this another time.
When he’s not going through a medical emergency.
“Can someone explain what happened?” the doctor asks, looking thoroughly annoyed we haven’t gotten to the point of his visit yet.
I know Preston won’t talk, so I do. “He has a severe seafood allergy and went into anaphylaxis. The first EpiPen didn’t work, but the EMTs showed up shortly after and he was better.” I send a glare his way. “He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, though.”
“I see.” His forehead creases. “I’ll need to examine you, but I can’t do that when…” He raises a brow, hinting that I’m blocking him from doing his job.
Preston grunts in protest when I get off his lap. “Sorry.”
The doctor places his stethoscope on his chest. “Young man, do you have something against hospitals?”
“Aside from the fact you have to wait an eternity to be seen and when you finally are, they charge an arm and a leg for subpar care?”
The doctor doesn’t disagree. “Point taken.”
I look on as he takes a few more vitals and examines him. “How long have you had a shellfish allergy?”
“It’s not just shellfish, it’s all seafood.” He glowers. “And since I was nine.”
He writes something down on his notepad. “I assume you must have eaten something at the party that you weren’t aware contained seafood.”
Preston gives the doc a nasty smile. “Gee, you think?”
“Preston,” I hiss.
As usual, he’s being rude to someone who’s only trying to help him.
Preston shrugs. “I asked the waiter what was on the tray and he told me it was meatballs.”
“Wait a minute.” My mind flits back to the meeting I had with the caterers last week. I remember specifically requesting that they not serve any seafood since Breslin hates it and Landon isn’t too fond of it either. “That’s…weird.”
Why the hell would there be seafood when I explicitly asked for there not to be?
“I know. Who the hell makes meatballs with seafood?” Preston pulls a face. “Then again, I’m asking the wrong person considering your culinary skills.”
I let that dig roll off my back because I’m too focused on what happened. “No. What’s weird is that when I sat down with the caterers to plan the menu for the party, I told them I didn’t want any seafood served.”
Preston doesn’t seem too concerned about this. “Shit happens, Bishop. People fuck up all the time.”
Yeah, but deliberately not doing something I requested is not only a dick move and poor customer service…their mistake almost killed him.
My guts twist with anxiety. “I don’t know, something feels off.”
Although I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would go out of their way to harm Preston.
Preston snorts. “You’re being paranoid. It’s not like they slipped rat poisoning into my food.”
He has a point. Plus, it’s not like I mentioned his allergy to them because I didn’t think he was attending.
“Maybe it was the chef,” the doctor supplies.
When we look at him, he adds, “My wife hired a fancy private chef for a party we hosted last year, and he was difficult to say the least. Not only did he have a short fuse, he refused to alter some of his recipes for our guests.” His face scrunches. “He was one hell of a cook though.”
“See?” Preston buttons his shirt. “You can take your tinfoil hat off now.”
Still feeling upset, I cross my arms. “Fine, but I’m leaving them a shitty review on Yelp.”
The doctor places his stethoscope in his bag. “Your heart rate is a little high right now, but that’s to be expected. Other than that, all your vitals are within normal range.” He takes out his tablet and begins typing something. “I want you to take some Benadryl and I’m sending a prescription for an EpiPen to your local pharmacy.” He gives Preston a stern look. “Ensure you carry it with you at all times because if this ever happens again, you might not end up so lucky.”
I feel all the color drain out of my face with that statement. “I’ll make sure he does.”
Nodding, he starts for the door. “You should also consider wearing a medical bracelet.”
I’m glad his back is turned so he can’t see the fuck that expression on Preston’s face as he leaves the room.
I pick up the Benadryl bottle and the cup of water on the nightstand. “You heard the man.”
Despite looking like he wants to fight me tooth and nail, he swallows the pill. “There. Happy?”
Not really, because something else isn’t sitting right with me.