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I shake my head. “Comehere.”
I trade her new friend’s arm formine.
“You’ve got a good one,” the woman says, receding before I can ask what shemeans.
“You said I should have fun,” she says as I help her down the hall and into the stairwell. “So Idid.”
“I’mglad.”
In the stairwell, my attention locks on a tissue clasped in her hand. “Was it a tearjerker?”
“Hmm? Oh. I cut myself, but I didn’t want to sayanything.”
I pull back the tissue. The edge of her palm is dark with blood. My stomach plummets. “You’rehurt.”
“One of the women tripped, and I tried to catch her before she hit the ground but something sharp stabbedme.”
I turn her hand in mine, searching the cut for signs of debris. “We need to clean this.Now.”
Daisy groans but lets me help her up the rest of the stairs. I unlock our room, holding thedoor.
She kicks off her shoes and pads across the carpet to the marble bathroom. “Have you seen this tub, Ben? I want one at home. All that’s missing is HenryCavill.”
“If you’d given me more notice, I would’ve arranged it for you,” I grit out, unable to match herlevity.
Daisy tosses me a knowing look over hershoulder.
I steer her toward the vanity, holding her arm over the sink. “You wash,” I instruct her. “I’m gettingperoxide.”
“You packed some? What a BoyScout.”
My glare goes unappreciated. “Hold this under the water until I get back.” I retrieve my travel supplies and come back. I take her hand, studying the cut again. To my relief, it’s only bleeding a little. “I think you’ll live. But I’m cleaning itanyway.”
“Do your worst, Dr.Ben.”
She smiles at me, and I shake my head as if I can impress upon her how not cool it is that she worried me by daring to bleed when I was already distracted by her.Us.
“It’s just a little blood,” shesays.
I wet a clean pad with peroxide and she hisses as I press it on the cut. “I don’t like the thought of you indanger.”
“I’m not goinganywhere.”
I look up to see her watching me steadily, not looking the least bit drunk. On the contrary, she looks lucid, intent, and way too fuckingbeautiful.
"That woman says she hit on you and you turned her down,” Daisy goes on. “Why?”
I dispose of the pad and search in my bag for a bandage. “I’m here withyou.”
“But you’re notherewithme.”
"We agreed that for this month, we'd be… faithful," I say for lack of a betterword.
"I don't want you to be faithful to me because you promised. I want you to be faithful because you choose tobe."
I wrap her hand in silence, the only sound a couple’s distant laughter in the hallway, muffled by thedoor.
I could tell her I am faithful to her. That I have been for a long fuckingtime.
