Booth Three

9

Sorry guys!!!! I'm so sorry I didn't upload this weekend. I started a new job and I've just been swamped lately. I'm also going away this weekend so I don't think I'll get a chance to upload until next Tuesday/Wednesday. 

Thank you all so much for reading. Feel free to leave comments!! I love reading your thoughts ❤️

love you!!!!

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I squint my eyes open, blinking a few times to take in my surroundings. The lights are off, but the brightness of those in the hallway and the machines beeping over Penny's head are more than sufficient. I must've fallen asleep. I don't know how. These chairs aren't exactly comfortable, but I wasn't about to leave my kid while she's sick. She's still laying in her bed, cuddled up beneath the sheets.

Diego's here, too. He's sitting in the seat beside me, typing away at his phone. I don't notice that I'm under a blanket until I shift towards him. But it's not a blanket. It's a shirt — Diego's business shirt. It smells like him. And I like it.

"You tucked me in," I mumble, my voice still groggy. He glanced my way, a sweet smile on his face. He looks a little sleepy... as if he's just woken up himself.

"Did I wake you up?" he asks. "I was just texting my dad."

"No, no, you're fine," I assure him. "What's the time?"

"2:30."

"Shit," I sit up straight. "What are you still doing here? You should be at home by now."

"You fell asleep before we got to say goodbye, and I didn't exactly want to leave you here on your own."

"You're sweet," I smile. He looks good, too. Exhaustion suits him. He looks cute this way, especially with just his undershirt on. His chest is huge. He's like a human version of The Hulk.

"I do what I can," he shrugs.

"You should go home. You don't have to be here."

"You don't have to be here alone, either."

"I don't mind. I'm good at being alone."

"That's sad."

"That's life."

"Well, I'd like to be there for you," he says. "And I just happen to be an expert in looking after people."

"Yeah?" I laugh. "And what makes you an expert?"

"Years of experience."

"Your sisters?"

"My sisters, my mum, myself, the thousands of people I provide security for..."

"Oh, I see. You're a professional."

"For sure," he nods. "And you're next on my bucket list."

"Why?" I ask, my humour slipping away.

"Because I like you," he shrugs. But I don't know how to respond to that. It makes me uncomfortable. Why would he like me? What does he even mean by that? How am I supposed to feel about it?

"Why do you care about looking after people?" I ask him. "It's not something I'd expect from you, anyway. I mean... based on your reputation."

"It's the same reason I got my shit together and stopped partying," he responds. I wrack my brain for all the things he's told me so far.