“You signed a form to pull him out of the medically induced coma yesterday.” Oliver breezed in without knocking, as though he owned the place. “You must’ve forgotten, seeing as you’ve been running on coffee, angry outbursts, and the thoroughly stabbed voodoo doll of Madison Licht that Frankie stitched for you.” I glanced at the couch I’d occupied these past four days and the pincushion of a voodoo doll Frankie crocheted for me. It resembled a rag doll with a yellow receding hairline and Sharpie’d goofy smile. Romeo laced his fingers with mine. “Oliver.” He batted his eyelashes. “Yes, dear?”
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