Mom’s decisive headshake shocks me. “No, you won’t.”
I blink, thrown off guard by her suggestion. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll be doing nothing but resting and sleeping for the next few days.” Her mischievous eyes dance between Giovanni and me. “Perhaps you should try to do the same.”
Even though I love her playfulness, her suggestion lands harshly in my gut. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”
Her IV line sways with the wave of her frail hand. “Your aunt will visit every evening. And…” She retrieves a fancy phone from her bedside table. It isn’t outdated like mine. It’s the latest-model iPhone, which gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights as brightly as my cheeks when I realize only one person in this room can afford such extravagance. “This hospital’s services include internet connectivity. We can keep in touch using FaceTime. I already downloaded the app.”
My stomach flip-flops. Once again, don’t ask me if it’s in despair or excitement. I hate lying.
“See?” Mom twists the phone screen to me. “You’re at the top of the list, ready to be bombarded every evening at six.”
“Everyevening?” I can’t believe I’m already folding. I usually fight until I’m out of breath.
Exhaustion truly is a brutal beast.
“Everyevening,” she confirms, nodding.
“Okay.” I force my voice to stay steady even as emotions constrict my throat. “Every evening at six.” I collect my stuff before turning to face Mom. “Please keep me informed. If anything happens before or after our call, contact me immediately.”
“I promise,” she says, squeezing my hand.
Even though I feel like I’m surrendering, I say, “I’ll see you on the weekend. Love you.”
She mimics my declaration of love before watching us walk to the door.
As we enter the corridor, she murmurs, “Have fun, you two.”
I glance back at her and shoot daggers. There’s no heat in my scorn. It’s so weak it doubles the size of her smile. Her goofy grin is the same one she wore when she and Giovanni played Scopa. Unfamiliar with the rules, I chose to sit out and watch them play.
Their banter between games was more entertaining than being a participant. They laughed for hours, and on multiple occasions, I forgot today was Giovanni’s first time meeting my mother. It’s as if he’s always belonged in our family.
As we move down the hall, the quiet thud of our feet breaks the hushed emptiness of patients sleeping. “You’re really good at that.”
Giovanni’s confused face is adorable. He embodies a badass mafia boss when he’s barking orders, and an alpha male whilerocketing my head to the stars, but when he’s confused, he appears more like a billionaire who gifts all his profits to charity.
“Being a son,” I offer, my tone soft.
His mother has passed, so a conversation like this could be a sore point for him. I’d never be ready if my mother passed.
Lines crease in the corners of his eyes when he smiles faintly. “It isn’t hard.”
We step out into the refreshing night air, stealing my chance to ask if he means it’s easy because of my mother or because of me. I’d say it is a combination of both. My mother is easy to love. She was the epitome of the neighbor mother for the less fortunate children in school. But a part of me hopes it was also for me.
While signaling as if he’s hailing a taxi, Giovanni asks, “What address am I giving the driver?”
“Huh?”
His smirk would have you convinced my daft face is cute. I’m not meaning to seem foolish. I truly didn’t think I had a choice. That’s what last night’s kidnap was about, wasn’t it?
When I express my feelings to Giovanni, he works his jaw side to side before giving it a rough scrub.
“You have a choice,” he says matter-of-factly. “Always.”
Silently and professionally, a driver exits a sleek black car that has pulled to the curb. Giovanni opens the door for me before the driver can round the hood, like he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. The driver waits for us to be seated before he slots back behind the wheel and seeks instructions from Giovanni through the rearview mirror.
When Giovanni remains quiet, I realize he’s left the floor to me.
