Page 135 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

"You’re back, Julia." He turns my palm, the fingers of which are entwined with his, I now realize. He lowers his head and presses his lips to my knuckles. "Thank God, you’re back."

"Where did I go?" I frown.

"Nowhere," he places his other palm over mine and presses our joined palms to his cheek, "you were right here with me, all this time."

"Where am I?" I glance around, taking in the fixtures, the clean lines, the fluorescent lights above—I had been right about that—the screen which monitors my heartbeat… Oh. "I’m at the hospital?"

He nods, "Do you remember what happened?"

I turn to him, "I was shot?"

"Left shoulder, the bullet scraped the skin."

I try to raise my left hand and a dull throbbing sensation shoots down my back. I glance down to find my arm is in a cast. "Oh," I swallow. "But I am okay?"

"More than fine." He cups my cheek, turns my face back to his. "You are going to make a complete recovery."

His blue gaze is clear, almost innocent. His hair is disheveled, the wrinkles at his eyes more prominent. The tendons of his throat move as he, once more, presses his lips to my fingers. "Damn it, Flower, I thought…you were… That you were…"

"Dead?"

He winces. "Told you never to say that word."

"And I am telling you now that I am not going to let you go so easily."

"Huh?"

"We just got married! You didn’t think I was going to pop off and allow you to walk away a free man?"

He laughs, "I’d forgotten how sassy you can be sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Okay," he concedes, "most of the time."

“Wow.” I blink at him, and he frowns.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he coaxes. "What were you thinking?"

"Just that, you’ve never agreed to my point of view so easily."

He rubs his cheek against my fingers. "Don’t get used to it," he mutters.

"Of course, not." I glance at the sleeve of his tux, now ripped over his right shoulder.

"Your jacket is torn."

He glances at it, then back at me, "The same bullet that grazed you—"

"Tore through your sleeve?"

He nods.

"Ohmygod." I grip his fingers with my other hand. "Ohmygod, Damian, it could have hurt you."