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I stand and turn to walk toward the back of the room where the restrooms are located. I do my best not to look in Layna’s direction as I approach her. But I can’t seem to help myself. I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. When I’m almost directly behind her chair, I see Michael hold up his fork for her to taste a bite of his food. What the hell? Now she’s sharing eating utensils with the guy? That’s not very hygienic. I watch as she leans in, mouth open. That’s when I see what’s on the fork.
My heart stops and I hear a dull roar in my ears. I don’t think. I react before I can speak, reaching out and slapping the fork and its contents out of Michael’s hand and away from Layna’s open mouth. Every eye in the room turns to me, but I barely notice. I’m focused solely on Layna. I drop to my knees and grab her face, turning her startled gaze to mine.
“Did you eat any of it? Did any of it touch you? How’s your breathing?”
“Dude, what the hell?” Michael says, turning an angry glare at me.
I ignore him, along with all the other people at the table who are now staring at me and talking over one another.
“Where’s your EpiPen?” I ask, reaching for Layna’s purse. “It’s in the outside pocket, right?”
I find the pen and hold it up before going back to assessing her. She seems to be breathing okay. She looks a little pale and her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t seem to be in distress. I don’t see any hives either. It’s just beginning to dawn on me that I may have overreacted when she puts her hand on mine to steady it. I hadn’t even realized my hands were shaking.
“I’m okay,” she says softly.
“The stir fry,” I say. “It’s made with oyster sauce. Your allergy.”
I can barely get the words out. My throat is still clogged with the terror of what could have happened. Ever since Layna told me about her shellfish allergy not long after we met, I’ve been so careful to make sure it’s never around. The kitchen staff at Peach Fuzz has had extensive training on cross-contamination because I’ve made sure they know that’s a mistake I won’t forgive. I watch as Layna shakes her head and gives me a small smile. There’s some emotion in her eyes that I don’t quite recognize.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Hannah made sure to tell the kitchen to omit anything with shellfish or mollusks. The stir fry tonight isn’t made with oyster sauce. It’s safe. I’m fine. I promise.”
The sudden relief I feel pushes through my terror, and I let out a sigh before pulling in a deep breath. My eyes close for a moment as I think about what could have happened. I don’t want to imagine it. I can’t. It’s too much.
Following quickly on the heels of my relief is a rush of embarrassment and the realization that I may have slightly overreacted. I risk a glance around the table and see that all eyes are still on me. I feel my face go red and hot as I realize the disruption I just caused. Layna was never in any danger. I just caused a massive scene at my best friend’s rehearsal dinner for no reason.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Layna before moving to my feet.
Turning to Michael, I give him a tight smile. “I apologize for my outburst.”
He gives me a stiff nod but doesn’t return the smile. It’s just as well. I don’t think he and I are going to be best friends anytime soon. Or ever. Turning to the rest of the table, I give them a sheepish look.
“I apologize for the disruption,” I say. Turning to Piper, I say, “Please forgive me for causing a scene.”
She shakes her head and waves away my apology. “No need to apologize. You were just looking out for my sister. I’m grateful for that.” She smiles. “Besides, it’ll be a funny story to tell later.”
Everyone at the table laughs and the awkwardness of the moment is broken. I even join in the laughter for a moment. Everyone slowly resumes eating their meal, and a server quietly removes the splatter of food in the center of the white tablecloth. After thanking Piper for her understanding, I excuse myself to continue to the restroom. I don’t look back at Layna on my way out of the dining room.
Chapter 22
Layna
I watch Cole as he leaves, the tension still visible in the set of his shoulders. I want to go after him and make sure he’s okay, but something makes me hesitate. Then Michael says my name, pulling my attention back to dinner and the people around me. I look over at him and see that he’s holding my EpiPen in his hand.
“I think he dropped this,” Michael says.
I remember Cole dropping it when he’d let out that sigh of—what was that? Was it relief? I can’t be sure, but I think it might have been. I take the pen from Michael and slip it back into the outer pocket of my purse where it lives. I haven’t needed to use one in years, but I make sure I’ve always got one with me, just in case. I’ve got another one in my car and one in my house. Piper even keeps one in her purse in case we’re ever out together and I need it.
My mind goes back to Cole and the way he’d held my face in his hands, his eyes wide with panic. I’ve never seen him look so scared. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the look in his eyes before he realized I was okay was one of sheer terror. But that’s crazy, right? Cole and I are friends and yes, he knows about my allergy. He knows how serious it can be, but his reaction seemed a little over-the-top.
“I forgot you were allergic to shrimp,” Michael says, pulling me back to the present. “I didn’t realize it was so serious.”
I give a dismissive wave of my hand and smile at him.
“No harm done,” I say.
I told Michael about my allergy on our first date. I hadn’t wanted him to be caught unaware if something happened while we were together. No matter how careful I am about screening what I eat, accidents can happen. But I know for a fact I’d told him that it was an anaphylactic allergic reaction. It’s not something I’d fail to mention. But he’d clearly forgotten. Or maybe he’d assumed I was being dramatic. Either way, I find myself slightly hurt that he forgot. It seems like one of those things someone who’s dating you would commit to memory.
I try to push aside the slight hurt and focus on enjoying the rest of my meal. My heartrate has finally returned to normal and the conversation around us has resumed. My eyes keep straying to the small stain in the center of the table where the bite of food had landed after Cole knocked it away. I know the scene probably seemed ridiculous to everyone else. And I’m sure Piper was right about it being a funny story later. But I can’t stop seeing the look on Cole’s ashen face as he’d studied me, verifying that I was truly unharmed. I can’t stop feeling like I should have done something more to calm him before he walked out.
