One shaking hand, cold with the aftermath of blood rush, grasped the glass, and Summer lifted it to her mouth, trying not to shake so hard she spilled it. It took both hands after a moment, and then she relaxed back against the cabinetry. “Sorry,” she muttered, “sorry.”
“Hey, you’re alright.” He lifted one hand toward her, the movement jerky as he came to a halt, unsure if it was alright to touch her, before he settled for putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s just us. You’re fine.” He straightened slightly. “You need a minute, or are you good to head to the living room?” Given that sleep seemed a bit unlikely at that point.
She laid her cheek against his hand for a moment, still feeling shaky. “No, yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine now.” Not entirely the truth, but she didn’t feel nauseous anymore, anyway. She pulled herself up the counter, leaning on it harder than she wanted Tony to know. “Yeah, let’s go sit in the living room.”