Page 127 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

“And you don’t remember anything after taking your pills? Nothing about the construction site or why you went there?” Dr. Desjardin asked, putting the light away and smiling placidly at her.

She shook her head. It didn’t hurt anymore, although she did still feel a bit fuzzy as if someone had replaced her gray matter with cotton wool.

“Just my head hurting and then having a weird conversation with Garrett.”

One that had taken place on a rickety metal rail suspended over a twenty-foot-deep hole. She was glad her brain couldn’t supply a clear picture of that.

“I heard your boyfriend was very heroic.” Dr. Desjardin twisted a little, casting that benevolent smile at the man hovering over his shoulder.

Garrett glowered back. “I’m her husband, not her boyfriend.”

The doctor’s smile dimmed a touch. He turned back to her with a noticeably less effusive bedside manner. “Of course. And you’re not feeling any numbness anywhere? Not your toes, fingers?”

“No. Only my head is fuzzy. Like I’m hungover.”

“That’s to be expected under the circumstances. But don’t worry. It will pass quickly.”

The doctor continued to check her reflexes and other responses.

“Why the hell is that expected?”

Garrett didn’t look or sound angry, but she recognized that flat expression on his face. This is the hard-ass CEO, she thought.

“I thought these new pain meds were supposed to have fewer side effects than the previous ones,” he added, his tone accusatory.

“They are,” the doctor replied, pretending to be unbothered by the billionaire about to bite his head off. “But complications can arise when they aren’t taken as directed. Didn’t Dr. Saha or the pharmacist who filled the prescription explain the need to transition to them slowly?”

Emma frowned, trying to remember if either of those people had said that about the pills. “I don’t think so. But it could have been in the papers that came with them.”

All her medication came with FAQs and disclaimers, but she rarely took the time to go through them beyond a cursory glance.

She’d been on the same meds so long there hadn’t been a need.

Dr. Desjardin frowned. “They should have explained that in person when they prescribed them. The abrupt transition between medication types can lead to episodes like this.”

“But I had taken them at least once before.” She looked over at Garrett, apologizing with her eyes. “I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“I didn’t either,” he said, his face grim. “Dr. Saha didn’t mention it as far as I know. But I had one of the PAs that works for my company pick up the medication. If the pharmacist had any instructions, they didn’t pass them on.”

Uh-oh. Emma had a feeling that PA was about to find themselves in the crosshairs.

“It’s more likely the pharmacist didn’t say anything,” she said, willing it to be true. For the poor assistant’s sake.

He didn’t reply. “Do we need to change her meds back to the old ones?” he asked the doctor, still glowering.

Dr. Desjardin shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s wise. Going back and forth is what led to this. Emma should be fine on the new meds provided you step back on the dosage.”

He explained they should buy a pill cutter to slice the tablet into fourths, taking one piece to start and then steadily increasing the dosage until her body was habituated to the new medication.

He continued to offer other advice, being particularly thorough in an obvious effort to thwart any future accusations of malpractice.

She couldn’t blame him. Garrett’s suit screamed, ‘I have expensive lawyers.’

After they were done, he called the car service so he could sit with her in the back seat.

Emma was glad he did, tucking her under his arm to cuddle.

“You might have to carry me upstairs,” she warned. “Every limb feels like it gained a hundred pounds.”

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