I crossed my arms. "So, have you eaten?"
He blinked up at me. "Uh… yeah. I ordered pizza."
My jaw dropped. "Who literally eats pizza when they're sick?"
Dominic scowled weakly. "I wanted the garlic knots."
"Oh my God." I rubbed my forehead. "You need soup. And tea. Go back to bed."
"You don't have to…"
"Bed, Dominic."
"You're bossy when you're worried."
He huffed but turned around, coughing into his hoodie sleeve. "Fine. But I'm not drinking any weird herbal crap."
"You'll drink whatever I give you," I shot back.
He scoffed."Don't burn my kitchen, Rivera."
I left him there and padded back down the stairs, finally entering the kitchen, and froze.
Holy. Shit.
It was the first time seeing it this close. The kitchen was enormous.
It was like walking onto the set of MasterChef.
Like a set for one of those fancy cooking shows.
