I closed my eyes and muttered, "Damn it! Why did he have to wake up now?"

Bella and I stared at him. Bella's gaze held concern, while mine, I was sure, was drilling holes into him.

"Don't give her," he reiterated, his gaze on me. He looked less drunk now. His words didn't slur as much anymore, and his gaze was steady to an extent.

That soup must have been a very effective one, even though it looked like vomit. I considered asking her what the recipe was.

Bella shifted closer to him, her brows creased. "Mark," she placed her palm on his cheek and made him turn his face...