And whatever the reason, it's important enough that his brothers came here personally. Important enough that they're moving fast. Five days fast.
I don't know what I'm walking into.
But I know one thing for certain.
They need this marriage as much as we do.
Maybe more.
CHAPTER SIX
Bruno
The parallel bars are cold under my palms.
I grip them harder. Feel the metal bite into my skin.
Will, my physiotherapist, stands three feet away. Clipboard in hand. Watching me like I'm a science experiment.
"Ready when you are, Mr. Sartori."
I don't answer.
I push.
My arms take my weight. Muscles burning. Shoulders screaming. I lift myself out of the wheelchair. Hang there for a moment. Suspended between the bars like a puppet on strings.
Will makes a note on his clipboard. "Good. Very good. Your upper body strength is?—"
"Shut up."
He shuts up.
I lower myself. Slowly. Controlled. My arms shake but they hold. They always hold. Two years of nothing but upper body work. Two years of punishing myself in this gym while everyone else slept.
My arms are not the problem.
My arms never were.
I grip the bars again. Pull myself up. This time I don't stop at hanging.
I put my feet on the ground.
Will steps forward. "Mr. Sartori, I don't think you should?—"
"I said shut up."
He freezes.
I focus on my legs. On the signals my brain is sending.Move. Stand. Hold.
For two years, those signals went nowhere. Dead wires. Broken connections. The doctors said I'd never walk again. Said the damage was too severe. Said I should focus on adapting to my new reality.
Fuck my new reality.
I straighten my knees.
My legs shake. Tremble. Threaten to buckle.
