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He throws his arm around my shoulder, drawing me to him. Slamming the passenger side door, he kisses me on the top of my head. “It was an accident, Kid. Accidents happen to people all over the world, all of the time. You didn’t crash the car because you were drunk, or tired, or…” He shrugs. “It just wasn’t your fault. I smashed that window because I needed you out of all that twisted metal. I’d do it again, and again, and again…”
“Your whole career—”
He takes me by the chin, forcing me to look up at him. His expression is the most serious I’ve ever seen it. “I’m going to be a doctor instead,” he says. “Your accident made me obsessive about the human brain. It’s fascinating to me. I want to research these kinds of head injuries and figure out how to help repair them. I’ll never be able to operate, but I’m excited to have a whole new career path to look forward to. One that I find interesting as hell. So no, I won’t be a concert cellist. But I will still play for myself, and foryou, because I love it. Plus my mother’s much happier that I’ll have a job that pays eight times what I would ever have made with music, and she gets to tell everyone her son is going to be a doctor, so it’s all working out for the best.”
I feel terrible. Absolutely terrible. Is there a single aspect of Theo’s life that the accident didn’t destroy? It doesn’t matter what he says. If I hadn’t been driving that night, the car would never have hit the guard rail. I wouldn’t have such a fucked-up brain, and he would be at Juilliard right now, halfway to accomplishing dreams he’s had since he was a kid.
“Don’t. Don’t look like that, Kid. Life has a weird way of giving us what we need, not what we want. And I promise you that I’m okay. I’m happy.”
“Did Ineedthe traumatic head injury?” I ask, laughing a little grumpily.
“Maybe. Who knows?” Theo looks down at me with such surety, with so much love in his eyes, that it’s hard to feel sorry for myself, or for him, or for anyone else who’s been affected by this shit show. “The lessons we’ve both learned from this experience have molded us. They’re shaping us as we speak. They’ve definitely shown me how fucking miraculous and strong we both can be. I was angry about your injuryandmy hand for the longest time, but all that anger did was twist me up inside. I choose to see the positive now. Iknowthat everything’s gonna be okay.”
I don’t have the right to discount or discard Theo’s words. Not after everything he’s tolerated in order to stand by my side through this. So I nod, leaning my forehead against his chest. “Okay. All right. You’re gonna look really hot in a lab coat, Dr.Merchant.”
“Oh, believe me, I know!”
“Ahhh! Soarrogant!”I jab him playfully in his ribs; I’m not expecting the reaction this provokes.
“Stop! Oh my god, STOP! I can’t breathe!” he gasps.
I step back, mouth hanging open.
Theoisarrogant as hell. He can knock out a guy’s front teeth with one right hook. He smashed a car window and dragged me out of a wreck before the car literally went up in flames.
He is alsoticklish?
He holds up a finger, cocking his head to one side, still wearing a shit eating grin. “No. Don’t you say a word. We don’t talk about this, Voss.”
“I had no idea you were sosensitive.”
“I swear to god, I will spank you so hard you’ll have a handprint on your ass for a week if you tell anyone—”
“What if Ilikebeing spanked?”
“Get inside this restaurant before you get me into trouble,” he growls.
Inside, the delicious scent of orange chicken and Mongolian beef hits me square in the nose. I nearly sink to my knees and start weeping tears of joy. “Oh my god.Oh my god!”I moan.
“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me. You’d better stop that or you’re gonna make my dick hard again.”
“Promises, promises.”
Theo’s warning look, dominant and possessive, makes my toes curl inside my shoes. “I don’t need to make promises on that front, Voss. You already know it’s true. I’ll fuck you right here in the bathrooms if you don’t behave yourself.”
I’m tempted to take him up on this threat, but my stomach growls, reminding me that we should at least sample some of the amazing-smelling food here first, before we get banned for life and they tell us never to come back.
The Golden Palace is packed, couples seated at the booths and tables across the restaurant floor. The air hums with chatter. We’re seated in the only available booth by the window, and when the host removes a ‘reserved’ sign from the table, I realize that Theo must have called ahead and booked this specific spot for us ahead of time. He looks a little red-faced as he slides into the booth opposite me, making a show of picking up the menu and studying it intensely.
“Is thisourtable, Theo?” I ask coyly.
“What do you mean?”
“Is thisourtable. Is this booth special for us?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, trying to play it off. “Quit asking questions and check out the menu, Kid.” I didn’t know Theo Merchant was capable of blushing. It’s endearing as hell that he’s doing so now. I want to tease him for it so bad, but I think any further ribbing might just make him explode with embarrassment, so I hold my tongue.
We place our orders—some of that Mongolian beef I smelled when we came in, and special fried rice. Some spring rolls, and chicken and mushrooms in oyster sauce—and the waitress doesn’t even flinch when Theo orders us two beers.
