I let out a sigh because, based solely on his tone, I had no doubt he was serious. Also, the idea of being in his arms was more appealing than ever, so I risked a scolding from the hospital staff and crawled up beside him. Careful to dodge the IV they’d used to administer a healthy dose of Benadryl and the O2 sensor wrapped around his finger, I curled against his side. My head rested on his chest. It was our position and how we slept almost every night, but I’d never appreciated the steady rhythm of his heart more.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed.
His whole body spasmed. “Jesus, babe. What the hell do you have to apologize for? You did everything right. I owe you my life.”
I laughed, but it held no humor. “I almost killed you.”
“No, you didn’t—”
“I did, and it’s driving me crazy because I can’t figure out how. I spent over an hour at the grocery store yesterday buying all the ingredients for the spaghetti tonight. I checked every single label. Nothing was even processed in the same facility as peanuts. I called Aaron and he immediately went home to double-check everything. The only thing he used that I hadn’t specifically purchased was some dried parsley, but he sent me a picture of the label and it was nut-free too.”
The medicine had done its job. As he stared down at me, his face was almost completely back to normal—handsome, warm, and loving. “Cross contamination happens, babe. And not just at home. Companies don’t always label things correctly. And there’s always the possibility of an employee error even if they do.”
It was the same thing the doctors had said. None of it made me feel any better. He’d been eating food I had prepared for him. He hadn’t even asked if it had nuts or not. He’d trusted me and I’d failed him.
If anything worse had happened to him, I never would have been able to live with it on my conscience. The ache in my chest was agonizing and it was only a hypothetical. I couldn’t imagine the bone-slicing razor blade had it become a reality.
It wasn’t the time for blame, but there was something I couldn’t stop obsessing about. “Where the hell is your EpiPen?”
A groan vibrated his chest. “I have no fucking idea. It lives in my briefcase these days. The only thing I can figure is maybe it fell out at the office. It’s not small though, so I feel like I would have noticed. But I have no idea where else it could be. It’s crazy. I haven’t carried it in a long time, but then you made such a fuss about it that I started again. Then, for the first time in my entire life, I need it and it was nowhere to be found.”
I sniffled, my nose stinging as the images of him needing it assaulted me. “We’re getting you ten. One for your house, my house, your truck, my SUV, your office, my office, your briefcase, my purse, and two for the fanny pack I’m forcing you to wear twenty-four-seven.”
“A fanny pack, huh?”
“Yep.”
His lips twitched. “You do realize twenty-four-seven would include when I’m naked and fucking you. You gonna be able to get off with me wearing a fanny pack?”
I choked back another round of tears. “As long as I never have to see you like I did tonight, then I’m sure I’ll manage.”
All humor evaporated from his face and his body sagged into the bed. “Fuck, Remi. I am so sorry.”
I dried my cheeks, hating that he was the one who had gone into anaphylactic shock yet there he was, comforting me. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either, but I am deeply sorry you had to go through that tonight. I know how scary it can be to have to make a nine-one-one call for someone you love and I never in a million years wanted that for you. But it’s done now and I’m okay. I can’t promise it won’t ever happen again, but I can tell you next time I’ll make sure I’m better prepared so the weight of the emergency doesn’t fall on your shoulders.” He dipped low and kissed my forehead. “Even if it means showering in a fanny pack.”
I hoped like hell a next time would never happen, but I was so damn grateful we had a chance at a next time at all.
There was a knock at the door, and then Tyson came strolling in, his phone held to his ear. I didn’t know the rest of the Michaels family, so while the EMTs had worked on Bowen, I’d used his phone to call his brother.
I’d been hysterical, but Tyson had assured me from miles away that Bowen was in the best hands possible. He’d met me at the hospital and wrapped me in a warm hug that was too much like his brother’s for it not to have been genetic.
