“Hey, queen.” His voice was raspy and torn. “Nice legs.” I choked out a sob. “Nice everything.” “Don’t cry for me.” “I’m not.” I forced a brighter smile. “Your nose is pancaked again.” “Hm.” He grunted out a breath. “What’s new.” “I think it’s sexy.” Sniffling, I lifted his hand to my mouth and kissed all of his torn knuckles. “You’ve got the roughed-up bad boy look down to a tee.” “How’s my baby?” “Still cooking?” “How’s my other baby?” “I’m okay, Joe,” I breathed. “We’re both fine.” “Good.” His eyelid fluttered shut. “I need you to be okay.”
