AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After he recited a quick blessing and Dee repeated the amen, the lid to the pizza box was torn open. Booker cut the Chicago style deep dish with the flimsy cutlery the deliveryman had given him and plopped the steaming square slice onto a plate.
“Ladies first.” With a smile, he handed her the food.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the plate with what she hoped was an equally wide grin. Though she felt far from happy while she attempted to process the day’s events, she didn’t want Booker to think her ungrateful. She focused on lunch as a means of escape, both from her mind and the conversation with her boss.
The aroma of basil and tomatoes elicited a loud growl from her stomach. She blew on the forkful of food dramatically in hopes of muffling the noise. When she took her first bite, flavors exploded in her mouth. Flakey crust, savory sauce, sharp pepperoni, spicy sausage, salty mozzarella. Seasonings melded together in one glorious taste. Just as she swallowed, an obtrusive sweetness made her still.
“Does this have pineapple?” Dee turned to Booker while a tingle started at the back of her throat.
“Yup,” he said, grabbing a napkin. “Nothing like it, right?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer, not when she felt her tongue begin to thicken and her windpipe tighten. Dee drew a deep inhale that left her lacking. When she clutched her throat, Booker’s eyes grew to the size of the pizza plates.
He leaned toward her. “Dee, what’s wrong?”
“Allergic. To. Pineapple,” she croaked through heaving breaths. Her voice shook with each syllable. The wheezing would start soon, so she rushed on before it did. “Injection. Bathroom. Cabinet.”
Booker pushed off from the couch but stopped as he faced the hallway. “Which door.”
“Last. One. On. Right.”
The man sprinted and returned in less time than it took Dee to pull in three more breaths. She removed the injector from the carrier, flipped the cap open, and released the safety. She lined the tip of the injector up with her outer leg, right in the middle of her thigh. She swung the shot out and back into her thigh. Holding her breath, she listened for the click to let her know the injection had started to release. She counted to herself. “One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thous—”
“What do you need?” Booker’s voice interrupted as he sidled in close to her. The carefree expression from earlier had transformed to a concerned stare centered on her. Gone was the mile-wide smile. In its place, Booker’s lips thinned as he cupped her shoulder. “Dee, talk to me.”
“I’m okay.” Though the words no longer came out staccato, her voice sounded as weak as she felt. Disbelief filled his face and he shot her an I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-second kind of look. She held up the injection. “I’m not yet, but I will be.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, yanking his keys out of his pocket. “We’re going to the emergency room.”
Chapter Five
Booker
Time seemed to slow as Booker wheeled Dee through the front entrance of the hospital. The doors slid at a snail’s pace, nurses slowed their steps in front of them, and his own feet felt like they were moving through mud instead of sprinting down a busy hallway.
He’d nearly killed the woman with lunch! At first, he’d thought the pineapple on the pizza might earn him brownie points—something he’d never expected to want around her—but as he watched her slip into the throws of anaphylaxis, he’d realized how wrong he’d been. The high pitch to her voice had been caused by fear rather than glee.
Pushing the wheelchair faster, he understood that fear. “Hold on, Dee. We’re almost there.”
“With your driving, I have to hold on,” she snapped back as the two of the narrowly missed a cleaning cart.
“Sorry.” Booker repeated the word that he’d said on loop since they’d left Dee’s house. Why hadn’t he thought to ask about food allergies? Better yet, why hadn’t he left well enough alone and given her a sick day without butting in?
Dee threw her head back and looked up at him. “Slow your roll and I’ll forgive you.”
Seeing her smile, and the check-in cubicle straight ahead, he did as he was told. “Deal.”
The registrar took down the vital information—name, address, birthday. As she said the date, she lowered her voice. The change put Booker on high alert when what she said registered, he understood her covert ways.
He felt the color drain from his face as he asked, “Today’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.” Dee fiddled with her shirt, suddenly insanely interested in the hem. She cleared her throat and offered him a furtive glance. Booker remained quiet but nodded. She sighed. “Go ahead and ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
Dee rolled her eyes. “How old I am.”
“No, ma’am.” Booker made a show of shaking his head. “My grandma taught me better than that.”
