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I move lose consciousness for a few seconds because I can’t remember him taking me out of the car. The moment I know I’m spluttering water and gasping for air.
Black spots speckle my vision but when I look around I can see I’m floating in Georgiou’s arms on the water’s surface and he’s holding me close to his heart.
“You’re safe now Evie.” He runs his hand over my back, soothing me as I cough and cry at the same time.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I mutter holding on to him so tight my knuckles pale.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe with me now.”
I break down. He saved me. I’m safe and I feel like I always will be if I’m with him.
But my father…
I don’t think he made it.
* * *
Dad was in a coma for three weeks. He had to have multiple surgeries because he had organ damage.
I was on edge every day I went to the hospital. With no signs of him improving I went from one day to the next thinking that it was going to be his last.
I stayed with Georgiou and Henry and we went to the hospital together.
They took turns to sit with me by my father’s bedside.
When Dad woke up hope renewed in me.
He stayed in the hospital for another month. When he was back to his old self the doctors agreed to discharge him home.
I went with him and made sure he got his medication and ate when he was supposed to.
Of course, Dad being the great Donatello Ricci, he started talking about going back to work next week.
He’s been home from the hospital now for a three days and while the guys call me and I call them it’s hard not seeing each other. We didn’t think it would be appropriate to speak to my father just yet while he’s recovering. I honestly don’t know what we’ll say.
He’s seen the guys and they were all cordial. Dad seemed grateful in abundance for all they and as soon he was able to he reinstated all the contracts he had with Giordanos Inc. and Dubois Developments.
He did all of that but there was still an obvious tension because no one was talking about this relationship I have with Georgiou and Henry.
Dinner is almost ready and Dad is downstairs. Lucia came up five minutes ago to let me know Dad wanted to speak to me before we eat so I pack away my sewing kit and make my way down.
I find him in the sitting room with all the family photos.
He’s standing by the mantle staring at an old picture of my mother just above it.
When I walk in he turns to face me.
He really does look much stronger than he did even days ago. He uses a cane, however, to support his upper body when he’s standing or walking around. The doctors said he’d need to use it for a few months.
“This was taken just after we got married. Look at her, isn’t she beautiful?” he states and the glint in his eyes still reminds me of what love looks like.
“She really is,” I agree.
He’s told me the story of that picture before. My mother is standing outside the house in the front garden with a lily in her hand.
She’s smiling and the same look of love is reflected in her eyes.
“You look so much like her. I know you must be tired of me saying that to you but I’m your father so it’s my right to be annoying.” He chuckles and I smile back at him.
