Casper shouldn't have been so hung up on it. A mistake is a mistake, and his was beyond fixing. He had come to terms with that.

Casper pulled back the covers, tucked Eliza in, and was ready to leave. But she jumped onto his back like a nimble kitten, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Tell me, who are you really?" she demanded. "I'm...," he gritted his teeth, "a waiter."

Her response was a soft "oh," tinged with disappointment. But she didn't get off his back. Instead, she clung to him tightly, as if trying to soak up some warmth and comfort.

He turned his face slightly. "Go back to bed and get some rest. You need it."

"I, I..." she began, but then a wave of nausea hit her. Her stomach churned violently, and she couldn't hold it back. She opened her mouth, and a burst of vomit came out, splattering all over his shirt. Casper froze. Fighting his own nausea, he carried her to the bathroom, where she clung to the toilet and vomited. He took off his shirt and tossed it aside.

He knelt next to her and gently patted her back. "How much did you drink?"

"Two, two bottles," she said, holding up three fingers.

He couldn't help but laugh, despite his annoyance. "That's quite something."

hangover remedies

note on the medicine box. "Take with warm water. Don't drink so

his room and took a long shower. Early the next morning, he and Dillon headed back to

her throat on fire. She had blacked out and had no idea how she ended

head,

box on the nightstand. Out of curiosity, she reached for it, took a glance, and then

bought this medicine? Could he have been here last

off the covers, relieved to find her clothes still on. She

head to the

his shirt on the floor, stained with vomit. Another piece of evidence proving that Casper had indeed come over last

What a stroke

her for a weekend yacht trip to clear her mind. Feeling weighed down, she agreed.

a small

Brock's hand, stood on the deck. The sea shimmered under the sunlight, the breeze blowing through her soft hair, making it

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