Page 127 of By A Thread
“That’s nice. Don’t hit your head.”
He smacked his head getting in. “Ow.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, cupping his face in my hands, looking for blood.
His eyes were almost indigo in this light.
“Can I hug you in the car?” he whispered.
“Probably better not. I’ll be driving.”
He looked so sad my heart cracked right down the middle.
“Oh,” he said. Then he brightened. “Can I have a milkshake?”
I sighed. My dairy hiatus hadn’t solved my problems. And a milkshake sounded really good right now. “Sure. Why not?”
I buckled him in, accidentally discovering that the man was ticklish, and then got behind the wheel. I mashed the push-button start and fired up the seat warmers. Then froze.
“Dominic Russo.”
His head lolled to the side so he could stare lovingly at me. “That’s me.”
“How do you know Buddy’s wife’s physical therapist?” I asked.
He leaned forward. “How do you know I know her?” he asked.
“You just told me.”
“I did?”
“You’re drunk, not stupid. Spill it, Charming.”
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
“Says who?”
“Me. It’s a secret.”
“Did you hire Dr. Chopra for Buddy?”
“Absolutely not,” he said very seriously. Then he started laughing. “I hired her for his wife because you were all ‘Oh, Buddy is the greatest human being in the history of the world!’” Dominic emphasized his relatively accurate impression of me with a sweeping gesture that nearly put his fist through the window. “Ow.”
“Dom, maybe try not to flail around so much.”
“’Kay.”
“Why did you do that for Buddy? Do you even know him?”
“I did it for you,” he insisted.
My wall was tumbling down one brick at a time, and I didn’t want to let it go. I backed out of the space and found my way out of the parking garage.
“Don’t tell Buddy about my secret,” he said when we pulled onto the street.
“Why don’t you want him to know? You’re doing something amazing for his wife.”
“Shh!” He slapped a finger over my lips and slid it partially up my nose. “He can’t know. This wayheearned it.He’sthe hero.”
