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第十八章 | 五十度飞
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I stir, opening my eyes to a bright September morning. Warm and comfortable between clean, crisp sheets, I take a moment to orient myself and am overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu. Of course, I'm at the Heathman.
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"Shit! Daddy!" I gasp out loud, recalling with a gut-wrenching surge of apprehension that twists my heart and starts it pounding why I'm in Portland.
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"Hey." Christian is sitting on the edge of the bed. He strokes my cheek with his knuckles, instantly calming me. "I called the ICU this morning. Ray had a good night. It's all good," he says reassuringly.
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"Oh, good. Thank you," I mutter, sitting up.
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He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. "Good morning, Ana," he whispers and kisses my temple.
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第十八章
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