“Sounds like a plan,” said the firefighter. “Love me a logical woman.”
Three minutes later, two of Boston’s bravest were hauling Lorenzo onto the dock. An EMT wrapped him in a silver foil blanket, Elliott was sobbing in his sobbing mother’s arms, and Winnie was being asked out for a beer. “You know what they say about firemen,” the guy was saying. “We know how to use a hose.”
“I know exactly what they say about firemen. You’re either husbands or whores. I’m guessing you’re the latter.”
“It’s like we met before,” the guy said, his voice admiring.
“You wanna give a statement?” another firefighter asked, the one who was actually doing something helpful. “Actually, do I know you? You look familiar.”
“We’ve never met,” Lorenzo said. “And no. I live close by. I’d like to go home.”
Winnie came over, helped him on with his coat, since he was shuddering too hard to do it alone. “My hero,” she said.
“Actually, you’re mine. Thank you for saving my life.”
“Guys, I recorded the whole thing,” said a kid about twenty. “Uploading it to TikTok right now!”
“You were recording?” Winnie asked, whipping around. “While he was freezing to death trying to save a kid? Did you think about helping, you little shit, or was going viral more important?” She grabbed his phone and threw it in the Charles. “Oops.”
Well, if Lorenzo hadn’t loved her already, he sure loved her now. He was too tired to argue with that fact.
A police officer, also on the scene, obligingly dropped them off at his apartment, and Lorenzo got in the shower, the hot water like needles at first. He stood there until feeling returned to his fingers and toes, then washed off whatever bacteria the Charles had gifted him. He pulled on a cashmere jogging set he’d bought in Italy the year before and walked down the hall.
Winnie was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled fantastic. He looked at her for a long minute. Maybe he could claim the need for skin-to-skin warming.
Then his phone buzzed. A text from Verline.
Dr. Santini, we have a mass casualty here, city bus vs. dump truck, rolled down an embankment. Cabrera, Hussein and Brooks are all here, but we need you, too.
No cozy night in, then.
On my way.
“Looks like I have to go,” he said. “Big accident.”
“Seriously? You should let someone else handle it, Lorenzo. You must be exhausted.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not God, Satan. Sorry to tell you, you’re a mere mortal.”
He smiled. “God-like, anyway, at least in the OR. I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I might sleep at the hospital.”
She paused. “Okay. I get it. They’ll be lucky to have you.”
“See you in the morning?” he asked, pulling on his coat once more.
“It’s my grandfather’s birthday tomorrow,” she said.
So no, in that case.
He went over to her, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “Great work today. And I’m not talking about the dinner cruise.”
She hugged him back. Hard. For a second, he just held onto her, wishing he could stay exactly where he was. Then, reluctantly, he pulled back and headed back out into the cold New England night.
NINETEEN
WINNIE
