Dexter looked at me innocently as he said, "Sophia… my hand hurts."
He had cleverly had the nurse stick the IV drip needle into his less–injured hand, then told me that his hand hurt.
This meant that I would have to wait on him. I even had to help him undo his pants when he went to the bathroom.
Suddenly, I understood what Damien meant when he commented on Dexter's exceptional acting skills.
Dexter's eyes turned red–rimmed as he said, "Sophia… you're my wife."
"Stop it!" I exclaimed, trying to harden my resolve. He had only gotten injured because he saved me, after all. The doctor wouldn't let him get out of bed, so I had no choice but to take care of him.
I grabbed the overnight toiletries the nurse had brought for me. With a blush on my face, I pulled the privacy curtain closed and reached out. "Do it yourself," I said.
"But my hand hurts…"
I gritted my teeth at that. "Dexter Black, don't push things too far."
