Page 61 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

I need to see Allie; everything else can wait.

The door swings open, and a young nurse steps in. "Mr. Spellman, how can I assist you?" she asks, her voice a soothing balm in the sterile room.

"I want to see my girlfriend," I say, my voice firmer than I feel. "Is she here yet?"

"She is. Been here since you arrived, in fact. I’ll bring her in right now," the nurse replies with a reassuring smile.

Gratitude washes over me, followed by a pang of concern. I need to see her and make sure she’s really okay. Everything else—Luca, Rossi, the future of Savor—can wait.

The nurse hesitates at the door, turning back to add, "You were very lucky, Mr. Spellman. The bullet went clean through, missing any major arteries. You should be back on your feet in about six weeks."

Six weeks. That sounds like a lifetime and a blink of an eye all at once. I nod, absorbing the information. "Thank you," I manage, my mind already racing ahead to rehabilitation, recovery, and getting back in control.

As the nurse leaves, I sink back against my pillow, my body aching but my mind restless. Six weeks to think, plan, and decide the path forward. Six weeks to heal not just physically but mentally and to rebuild what was shattered.

I'm lost in thought as the door opens again, and there stands Allie. Relief floods through me, knowing she’s safe, seeing her here with me. Our eyes meet, and without a word, she crosses the room, her presence filling the space around my hospital bed with warm comfort. Everything else fades into the background; for now, it's just us.

She throws her arms around me with such force that it sends a sharp reminder of my bullet wound.

I can't help but groan—a reflex to the sudden pain.

"Sorry!" she exclaims, immediately pulling back with a look of concern etched across her face.

"It's fine," I assure her, managing a weak smile despite the discomfort. Her presence alone does more for my spirits than any painkiller could.

Her eyes search mine, earnest and full of relief at finding me awake and coherent. "How are you really?" she asks, brushing a hand gently against my arm.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I reply, trying to lighten the mood. She chuckles, shaking her head. “And how’s the staff?”

"Only you would end up with a gunshot wound and still be worrying about everyone else," she says with a wry smile. "I'm fine, Patrick. The staff is shaken up, but there were no other injuries. Savor, though ..." Her voice trails off, a shadow crossing her expression.

"We'll figure out Savor later," I say firmly, not wanting to spiral into that discussion just yet. Right now, focusing on us, on the immediate moment, feels far more critical. I take her hand, holding it between mine, feeling the warmth and life of her skin against my own. "I love you like mad, Allie. I'm not going to let a day go by without making sure you know that."

Her eyes soften, and a smile breaks through, mirroring my resolve. "I love you, too, Patrick. More than I can say." And with those words hanging between us, filling the space with their weight and warmth, she leans down and kisses me.

"I want you to move in with me as soon as possible," I say as the kiss breaks, my words clear and deliberate. We’d discussed the matter before, but there’s a new urgency to it. “I don’t want to wait another second to join our lives.”

Her smile widens, lighting up her face, erasing any remnants of concern from moments before. "I can't wait," she replies, her voice filled with enthusiasm and love.

As the lingering warmth of our kiss fades, I catch a shift in Allie’s expression. Her smile is gone, replaced by a somber seriousness. Something's weighing on her mind. "What’s up?" I ask, my voice filled with concern.

She hesitates for a moment, and then her face lights up with cautious optimism. "Caleb is here," she reveals.

I’m taken aback, my mind racing. "Caleb? How is he?" The thought of seeing my son, especially after our last interaction, stirs emotions within me.

"He’s ... it was a bit awkward at first," she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I told him what happened, and he came right away. He’s really worried about you."

“Can you send him in?” Allie nods, standing up with a smile that reaches her eyes. "I’ll go get him right now."

"Wait," I call out just as she turns to leave. She pauses, looking back at me. I reach out, taking her hand once more. "Thank you, Allie. For everything." I mean every word, grateful not just for her support now but for being the bridge between Caleb and me.

She leans down, her lips pressing softly against mine in a kiss filled with promise and reassurance. "I’ll be right back," she whispers against my lips, then turns to fetch my son.

As she leaves, I settle back against my pillows again and take a deep breath, preparing myself to face him.

Allie returns, her steps hesitant as she ushers Caleb into the room. The air thickens with a tangible tension as they exchange glances—unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Sensing the discomfort, Allie offers a small smile, murmuring about giving us space. “I’ll leave you two,” she says, her voice low, before slipping out, closing the door softly behind her.

The room feels smaller suddenly, just Caleb and me, the silence stretching out. He shifts on his feet and then clears his throat. “How are you holding up?” he asks, his eyes flicking briefly to my bandaged leg.

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