MILAN
There wasa faint tapping against my thigh. I was surprised that I could feel it; my body had been numb for days. I startled awake, blinking until my reality became real again and my dreamless sleep slipped away like it had every morning since.
“Hey,” Adriano said slowly, crouching in front of me and the awfully stiff leather armchair that I had certainly worn a hole in from sitting there for too long—a week to be precise.
I squinted through the bright white lights, focusing on the early soft orange sun rising past the windows instead. It was a small, ordinary event, the sun rising, but it had made everything less cold, less loud, less terrifying in the last week.
Adriano always seemed to bring the sun, even to my unconscious wife’s hospital bed.
“Is she?—”
“She’s fine,” he said quietly, using his half-smile that did not indicate happiness nor sadness, simply tiredness. “They’ve put her on more of those meds, so she’s still out.”
It was to be expected, but my chest still hurt as I nodded slowly and rubbed my eyes awake.
She wasgonewhen she had told me she would not be. It was illogical to be experiencing this anger; this was not her fault, shehad not asked for her throat to be slit, but these emotions that I could not name had voices, and the voices told my mind that I had trusted her to stay and she had left too.
My legs were pulsing with pins and needles as I rose to stretch them, reminding me that I was still in the same clothes that I had been the day before, and the day before that. I had never been this mismatched and unclean, but I had also never felt lost before.
Perhaps I had, and Sicily had simply found me.
“Did you review the building?” I asked Adriano, running a hand down my face to clear the drowsiness.
He yawned, nodding as he sat beside Sicily’s feet. “It’s good. She’d like it, but she should see it herself, Milano.”
I shook my head. That was not a choice.
Francesco had researched a new school building to purchase for her so that when she woke, she did not feel that this world was not fit for her. Sicily did not understand how made for her my world was, and it was my job to make her see what was all around her.
She did not deserve to have her dreams forgotten.
Adriano stood, wrapping one strong hand around the back of my neck, the other gripping my shoulder. Up close, I noticed the dark circles that stretched beneath his eyes and how his body slouched slightly, but I did not say that. People did not appreciate being told that.
“She isn’t going anywhere,” he said firmly. “You heard the doctors. She’s just exhausted.”
“And what happens when she stops being exhausted, Adrian? She will fearlife. She will not want to exist here any longer because it is unsafe, and when the truth that I lied about our name for ten years is revealed, she will be unprotected.”
My Consigliere’s stare faltered, falling to the ground. “You don’t know any of that.”
“I do.”
“You’re being emotional!” he bit out.
That was a strange word to be associated with me.
The door creaked open, giving way to Francesco who held the abhorrent hospital coffee in three takeout paper cups. “Would you both take it outside if you’re gonna argue? We’re all tired, especially her. She’s trying to heal, so shut up.”
I took the warm cup from him, mumbling my apology before sitting in my chair again. He was the only one who looked somewhatwell,and I found Francesco easy to look at, refreshing even, despite appearing as exhausted as Adrian.
I enjoyed watching him as he did his usual nonsensical routine; it was predictable and sturdy. He always made the same unnecessary sound about disliking the coffee, kissed Adriano’s unbrushed head of curls, and grumbled about how problematic we were to my wife’s unconscious body.
This entire thing was problematic; mylifewas problematic and that meant Sicily’s was too.
“I bought the school.”
My eyes narrowed on Francesco. “You did?”
“She’s supposed to be my business partner, right? My executive decision was to buy the school and decorate it with her artwork.”
