She goes quiet, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.
Once everything’s together, we head out of my apartment and down to the underground garage. The walk is silent, myattention caught by how meticulous she is, how everything is packed with care, nothing out of place, right down to the loose strands of red hair she smooths back into her bun.
The drive to the hospital passes in silence. I can see the nerves written across her face.
“Are you nervous about something?” I ask.
“I’m okay, I guess,” she says. “I just don’t want to risk any patients, you know?”
“It’ll be fine. Hospitals aren’t exactly where mafia guys hang out.”
She takes a deep breath and reaches for the door. “I need to get in there. Thanks for driving me.”
“No problem. I’m going to park the car and sit in the waiting room during your shift.”
After she gets out, I park in the garage next to the hospital and make my way to the emergency room. I take a seat in the waiting area. It isn’t too busy. A few people sit scattered around, some with arm slings, others on crutches. A handful wait for updates, eyes fixed on the front desk or the swinging doors leading back to the rooms.
After sitting there for a while, the tense quiet is broken by someone’s voice.
“Are you waiting for an update too?” a young woman asks from a few chairs away. She looks at me with a hopeful expression, like she’s waiting for someone to deliver good news.
“No,” I say. “A friend of mine is a nurse. I am driving her home after her shift.”
It’s the best answer I could come up with without saying too much—or outright lying.
“Oh.”
Before she can say anything else, a doctor approaches her. Whatever he tells her must be good news, because when sheturns back around, she’s smiling. She leaves the waiting room with him, disappearing down the hall.
I check the time and realize how late it is. The waiting room is nearly empty now. Five people remain, spread out, either sleeping, staring at their phones, or watching the desk while they wait for updates.
Vanessa sits at the desk with a male nurse. She’s focused, professional.
Every so often, a doctor’s voice cuts through the quiet, calling for nurses to assist, reviewing charts, giving orders, then rushing off again.
I’d been told night shifts in hospitals were quieter, but this feels eerie. The silence is broken when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Thankfully, it wasn’t on loud. I wince when I see Gino’s name on the screen, especially considering I slept with his sister twice in one day.
I step outside into the cold New York night and answer the call.
“Hey, man,” I answer.
“Hey,” he responds. “When her shift is done, can you both drive to the house?”
“Sure,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to tell Vanessa about the contract tomorrow, and you two will probably get married in the next few weeks,” he says, a hint of frustration in his tone.
“Okay. Why so fast?”
“Threats are coming in nonstop from the Russians to other Italian families I’ve never even heard of. If she’s married, it’ll calm things down. They won’t be able to say shit.”
“Alright.” I blow out a deep breath.
“I know you’re probably not thinking about it, but I’m going to give you the big brother talk.”
Jesus. I roll my eyes.
“If you piss my sister off or break her heart, I will kill you. I don’t care if you’re my best friend or whatever. She’s my sister. You got it?”
