“I thought he was immune,” Zoe said as she stood by the bed where her husband was tossing and turning as he begged for death…and pizza.
Jason nodded absently as he popped another chip in his mouth. “He is,” he said, gesturing with the chip to Trevor’s face and arms, “He hasn’t broken out in hives yet so I really wouldn’t worry.”
She bit her lip at the reminder of the unfortunate reaction ninety percent of the people that mistakenly ate her baked goods had these days. It was embarrassing, especially since she’d married into a family that adored baked goods.
“He’ll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off,” Jason promised.