“What about Gianna?” I asked. Then I remembered. “Shit, she’s in Chicago.”
“She has to get a flight,” Marco said. “She’s freaking out, so she’s having a hard time focusing.” My sister was on the autism spectrum, and events like this were hard for her to handle.
“I’m on it,” Michael said from the front seat. He had his phone out and his thumbs were flying over the keyboard.
I tapped my brother on the shoulder. “Michael, if you can get her a ride to the airport in Chicago, I’ll have someone pick her up here. See if you can have her fly into Newark.”
“Got it,” he murmured.
I turned my attention back to my phone. “I guess that’s all we can do right now.”
Marco sighed. “Yeah. The doctors said the surgery could take as long as six hours. They won’t know until they get in and see what damage there is.”
“Jesus,” I breathed. “Okay. Keep me posted.”
I ended the call and then sent a text to Sal to keep him updated. I slipped my phone back in my jacket pocket with a sigh. Greg lifted his arm, and I leaned against him, glad I had someone to support me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
GREG
Hospitals were not my favorite places. The smell, the incessant mechanical whirs, whistles, and beeps, and the muted feeling of despair all put me on edge. I clamped down on those feelings. I was here for Tony. Everything else was meaningless.
Marco was waiting for us at the entrance. Tony and Michael flew out of the car and into their brother’s embrace. I stayed behind to help Paolo get the luggage out of the trunk. When we were finished, I held out my hand. “Thank you. Please tell Sal I said thank you as well.”
“Of course, Mr…?”
“Hayden. Greg Hayden.”
Paolo smiled. “I’ll pass your message along to Mr. Vitale.”
Tony, Michael, and Marco came over, all profusely thanking Paolo for his time. He just smiled and said, “It’s family.”
After the car drove away, Marco asked, “Are we going to owe Sal for this?”
Tony shook his head. “No. Like Paolo said, it’s family.”
Marco led us to where he’d parked his car so we could stow our suitcases. I elected to keep my laptop with me, as did Michael and Tony.
We had to stop at the entrance to the main lobby to show ID and tell the security guard who we were visiting. The guard did a double-take when he saw average, blond, blue-eyed me standing with three dark-haired, dark-eyed Italian gods. When he handed me my visitor pass, he murmured, “Lucky you.” I snickered and winked at him as I took Tony’s outstretched hand.
The operating room lounge was full of what I instantly recognized as D’Angelo family members, along with who were likely their spouses or significant others. It was lot of people. An older woman with shoulder-length dark hair liberally streaked with gray hurried over to us when we arrived.
“Anthony! Michael!” The two men gathered their mother in their arms, uttering soothing words while she wept and spoke to them in rapid Italian. It took me a moment to realize that Tony and Michael were responding to their mother in Italian.
Marco was still standing beside me, so I leaned over and said, “I had no idea Tony could speak Italian.”
Marco nodded. “We all do to some extent. Gianna is the best, even though she’s the youngest. But she has a real ear for languages. I think she’s up to five now.”
“Wow. That’s impressive. I retained a tiny bit of the Spanish I learned in school. That’s about it.”
Liam came over to us, putting an arm around Marco’s waist. “Have you had dinner yet?”
I shook my head. “We were about to have dinner with Tony’s cousin when he got the call.”
“Cousin?” Liam asked. “As is Cousin Sal?”
“Yeah,” Marco replied, sounding unhappy about it.
