Brooklyn started to stir, her eyes opening. She groaned. “Did one of them get me?”
“I do not think so,” I said. “Are you burning anywhere?”
“Only my face,” she said, wrapping her arms over her eyes. “I passed out. That’s so embarrassing.”
“We need to go,” Nunzio said, hanging up, sticking his phone back in his pocket. He looked at the floor, where I could see a few of them crawling around. “Stay there,” he told Brooklyn. “I will be back for you.”
She made a shoo motion with her hands, which were still over her eyes. “Trust. I’mnotgoing anywhere.”
He lifted me from the counter, but then he hesitated. He told me to hold on to his back, and after I did, he picked Brooklyn up from the counter, surprising her. He carried the two of us outside at the same time.
“We need to get her to—”
“We are going to a place now,” he said. “Your husband has been shot.”
* * *
I wonderedif the sound of my flats clacking against the floor would stay with me forever. Each footstep that brought me closer to him made me wonder if the next would be the one that would change the entire course of my life.
Nunzio did not have specifics, only that Corrado had been shot and where we were to go.
We were in a plain-looking building from the outside, but inside, it reminded me of the place I was taken to in Milan. It was equipped with rooms to help men, even if it was not a real hospital.
Nunzio carried Brooklyn next to me. When Uncle Tito met us, he pointed to a room a few doors down. “Dr. Carter will see to her,” he said.
Nunzio nodded and took her into the room.
Uncle Tito took one look at my face and grabbed my hand. “He is fine. You can see him in a minute. We will speak first, ah?”
I went into the room he pointed to. He told me he would be right with me.
There were a few folders out on the counter. One was open. I glanced at it and could not stop staring. Photos of Corrado’s grandfather—dead in the street.
Uncle Tito came in and noticed it. He slammed it shut, pushing it behind him as he took a seat with wheels. He pushed himself closer to me, taking my hands. “Your godfather would not tell you lies,” he said. “It was a near miss, but he is doing fine. Only a flesh wound to the head.”
“To the head,” I whispered.
He nodded, studying my face from underneath his glasses. “How is our little baby?”
“Fine,” I said, but words were not coming easily. I kept imagining Corrado in the same place as his grandfather, dead on the street.
“Alcina.”
I met Uncle Tito’s kind eyes.
“I cannot promise you that your husband will be safe in this life. There are no such promises in anyone’s life, but you are one of the strongest women I know. You have more strength than most of the men I deal with.”
“Did the man Corrado has been looking for do this?”
“No. A man within the family.” He waved a hand. “However. I do want you to speak to him about the man he is looking for. Perhaps where my advice has fallen on deaf ears, yours will fall on an open heart, ah? It is not worth his time to pursue dead ends. There is no honor in it. Things are as they are supposed to be now. Maybe even better. Time will only tell.”
I nodded. “I would like to see my husband now.” I squeezed Uncle Tito’s hand and we both stood.
He led me to Corrado’s room. He was sitting up in bed, a bandage around his head, one spot soaked with blood.
Nunzio stopped talking when I entered the room. He nodded at Corrado and then shut the door on his way out. I stood with my back against the door, staring at him. He had a card in his hand, twirling it between his fingers.
“You gonna say something to me?” he said.
