I turn to him and smile as he reaches for my face. "I'm looking," I say. My voice comes out raspy.
His eyes move over me, my face, throat, hands, and then back to my face again.
"Lorenzo," I say.
"Give me a minute."
"I'm fine."
"Give me a minute," he says again, and something in his voice makes me give him the minute.
He takes a breath, his hands are still on my face, his thumbs trace along my cheekbones. I inhale deeply, loving his touch on me.
"Hi," I say, when the minute is up.
His lips twitch slightly and I see him exhale deeply. "Hi," he says.
"Did you sleep in that chair?" I ask once again.
"Yes."
"Lorenzo—"
"You scared the shit out of me." The words come out flat. "Don't do that again."
I breathe. "I'll try."
"Don't try." He pulls the chair closer and sits, and reaches for my hand. "Don't do it."
"Were you here all night?" I ask.
"Yes."
"You should have?—"
"Quinn,” he says, just my name, but then that’s all that he needs to say to stop me arguing. "How do you feel?" he asks.
"My throat hurts." I swallow again, testing it. "I feel like I got hit by a truck." I look at our hands. "Is everyone alright?"
"Everyone is alright," he says. "Everyone except me." He holds my gaze. "I aged ten years last night."
I grin at his theatrics. "You look fine."
"I feel a hundred."
I try to smile but my eyes feel heavy and I’m struggling to keep them open. “Sleep, baby, I’ll be here when you wake.” I feel his lips against mine, a soft brush of them, and then I’m pulled into sleep.
I wake up to find Lorenzo exactly where I left him when I passed out. He's sitting beside the bed, one hand wrapped around mine. His shirt is creased and he looks even more exhausted. The second he realizes I'm awake, he leans closer to me.
"Hey." His voice is rough, like he hasn't slept, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t.
I squeeze his hand. "Hey."
I get lost in that gorgeous face of his as his eyes scan my face. There's so much I want to ask, like, what happened when I passed out, and why won't he stop staring at me like he's making sure I'm actually here?
But before I can say any of it, there's a knock at the door and the doctor walks in and smiles politely. "Good morning, Mrs. Mariano."
"Good morning," I reply softly.
