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“He’s hurt. Listen, give me your email address and I’m going to get you plane tickets so you can come home. I’ll book them for tonight,” he offers me. Acceptance is on the tip of my tongue when I clamp my mouth shut. That won’t work. I need tickets for me and Matteo, so I need to book them myself. If Andy has any idea what happened on his wedding day and he’s close enough to know what Enzo wanted to name his first son, it would be too easy of a connection to make.
I can’t leave him behind despite how nerve-wracking it is to bring him back to New York with me.
This is another time it would be nice to have a partner. Someone to help share the load of parenting.
I push the thought to the back of my mind while simultaneously chastising my brain for considering my dating life at a moment like this. For someone who hasn’t so much as looked at a man romantically since I found out I was pregnant with Matteo, I have picked an awfully awkward time to get preoccupied with the idea of dating.
“Don’t worry about it. I can take care of the tickets,” I tell him. He hums on the other end of the line. I can’t make out the meaning of the sound but he doesn’t argue with me, so I let it go.
“Okay, but be sure to let me know when you’ll be coming in. Text me on this number and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I’ll have a car come pick you up,” he assures me. A car is pretty harmless. I agree with him before hanging up the phone, my hands shaking as I return it to my pocket.
“I need to find Sherry. That was a business associate of my father. He’s hurt,” I tell Derek. Yet I don’t move. I’m frozen in place.
The conversation was brief, and I didn’t get nearly enough information from Andy. He didn’t tell me the extent of his injuries, or what was injured. Worst-case scenarios fill my mind. Maybe a lifetime of working for the mafia has finally caught up with him. Sherry, the head of the department and the supervisor of the interns, is going to have more questions than I have answers to.
And then there is the fact Andy has my number. My father has been so careful over the past couple of years. I never went home to visit him. He always flew out to visit me. We had holidays at my aunt’s house. It was rather lazy of my father to leave me as his emergency contact.
Unless he wanted me to be the first to know if something ever happened to him.
“Is he okay?” Derek asks me, concern etched on his face.
“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me much. Oh god, I should have asked?” I say, feeling myself spiral with worries and doubts.
“Hey, you’re doing great. Come on, we’ll go talk to Sherry.”
Derek catches my hand with his own, giving me a comforting squeeze before he pulls me towards Sherry’s office. I relax into the way he’s taken charge of the situation, the way he doesn’t allow me to be immobilized by my panic. It’s comforting.
“Hey, we’re going to get you home. One step at a time. Why don’t you sit in the nurses’ station, and I’ll go find Sherry? Once you calm down, book your tickets. We’re getting you home tonight.” Derek keeps talking to me with that same steady voice. I focus on him instead of my panic. He steers me toward an empty chair in the nurses’ station. After giving the concerned nurses a brief explanation of what was going on, he takes off toward Sherry’s office.
Once I get my breathing under control, pulling myself away from the brink of a panic attack, I pull up flights on my phone. There is one flight I can catch later tonight. A red eye, which will be for the best. With any luck, Matteo will sleep through the flight. I quickly book tickets for me and Matteo when I spot Derek coming back towards me.
“I let Sherry know what was going on. She said to text her when you have an update about what’s happening and when she can expect you back, but go be with your family right now,” he says. “You have my number. Use it if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Derek,” I tell him, making the last-second decision to give him a quick peck on the cheek. It’s embarrassing to say, but it’s the most I have done with a man since the night in the garden with Enzo.
When I was pregnant, sleeping with anyone else felt wrong. Not for moralistic reasons, but I feared catching a disease that would put Matteo at risk. Then I had a small child. Even if I had the desire to hook up, it would have taken more than the limited energy I was willing to employ. My priorities had been elsewhere.
The smile that breaks out on Derek’s face, and the warm fluttering feeling that spreads into my chest at the sight of it, helps me to make my decision. When I come back from seeing my father, I’m going to see if Derek wants to give us a chance.
First, I have to deal with going home.
It almost feels wrong to think of it as home. When I first left New York, twelve weeks pregnant, and scared out of my mind, I thought about going home nearly every day. I dreamed about it. Eventually, the thoughts of going home faded. I would think about it weekly when I would call home and have stilted, uncomfortable conversations with my father. It turned into a monthly thing. Soon, the thoughts would only arise on special occasions, and I stopped thinking of it as home. My house in Kansas felt more like a home. At least I know I’m welcome here.
I shoot off a quick text to Melissa, the woman who normally picks Matteo up from preschool with her son, and let her know I’ll pick him up and we’ll be out of town for a few days. My hands are shaking as I pack our bags. Since I don’t know how long we’re going to be there, I pack too much. Besides, traveling with a child always means needing more than you think.
I’ll be fine.
I think.
Chapter Thirteen- Enzo
Fucking airports.
There are very few places I hate as much as airports. They have the worst-designed road systems with cars weaving in and out with little concern for oncoming traffic. Pedestrians lose all sense of self-preservation. They walk out into the middle of the street with no concern for their life. Andy offered to be the one to pick them up since he knows my disdain for airports, but like hell I’m going to let anyone else see them before me.
I'm not staying away for one more minute.
Andy sent me her flight information as soon as she sent it to him. He told her he’d be sending a car for her, which isn’t a lie. I’m here with a car, but I’m sure I’m not what she’s expecting. Compromises are being made on both ends here, even if she doesn’t realize it. She is going to have to face me, the man who she stole the first four years of our child’s life from, and I’m driving a mid-size SUV instead of my favorite sports car.
