12. Dante

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COMFORT


The next morning, I woke up and I headed to the kitchen to make Carla breakfast and some tea. My mind raced as I waited for the fresh ginger tea to boil and the cinnamon rolls to finish baking.

Who could have poisoned her?

Eva, her best friend, seemed the most unlikely suspect, but I couldn't be sure. Madeleine and Jenna were possibilities, but Jenna seemed the most suspicious.

I poured the hot tea into the mug and carried it back to the bedroom. Carla was dozing off, and I sat down next to her, holding her hand. "Hey, babe. Wake up. Drink some tea."

I knew she needed the rest, but I needed to see for myself that she was okay.

"Cariño, wake up."

She groaned, rolled over, and then her eyes opened. A small smile curved my lips and I handed her the mug when she sat up.

"What is it?"

"Tea."

She took a sip and smiled weakly. "Thanks, honey."

"How are you feeling?"

She shrugged. "Better, I guess. I'm a little dizzy."

"The tea should help. Let me take care of you. Tell me what you need."

"A bath?"

I nodded and helped her out of our messy bed. She felt so fragile in my arms and I hated that. Although she'd only been in a coma for four days, she had lost a decent amount of weight.

"I'll draw you a bath. Anything else?"

"Maybe some bubbles in the tub? I promise not to get too excited."

"You know what they say about bubbles, right?"

"What?"

"They're quite the aphrodisiac."

She grinned, looking so fucking cute. "Oh yeah? In that case, I want lots and lots of bubbles."

I ran the water as Carla brushed her teeth. When she was fully undressed, she stepped into the tub and I placed my hand on her waist to support her. She winced as she lowered herself into the warm water.

She got comfortable and I knew the water would help to loosen her stiff bedridden muscles. With the bubbles threatening to drown her, I took my shirt off and knelt next to the tub.

"Those bruises look painful, Dante," she said softly as she scanned my torso.

"It's nothing," I said, trying to brush it off.

She shook her head. "It's not nothing. You took a beating. Your face looks like you had a disagreement with a cheese grater. I hope you're not planning on making any soup, because it looks like you've already added enough ingredients."

"No more soups for a while. The last time I did, I got accused of trying to poison my wife."

"Well, then, let your wife take care of you since all it's ever going to be is an accusation."

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