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Marco huffed a short laugh. “No doubt.” He sat back down and nodded to the seat right behind me. “Sit, baby girl. Stay a while.”
I did. I pulled the chair right up to Julien’s bed, held his hand, and stared at him. I counted every bruise and scrape I could see. Watched his chest rise and fall. Checked his eyelids for fluttering.
“Do you think he’s dreaming?” I asked softly.
“I hope so,” Marco replied. “Hope it’s a good one.”
“What should I talk to him about?”
“Anything. It’s probably nice for him to hear your voice. Been a lot of anger surrounding him since this went down.”
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from asking about Amir. I wasn’t here for him or myself. This was about Julien.
I thought he would like to hear about what had gone on at Pi Sig, so I launched into the story, leaving out no details. Marco was rapt, leaning forward in his chair to hear my quiet storytelling. He cracked up at Elena chopping up the Harvard scarf.
I grinned at him. “She’s a menace.”
“Sounds like it.” He cocked his head. “Can I ask you something?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
“What were you doing there? At the fight?”
“Oh.” I pressed my fingers to my lips. “Vanessa told me he was fighting, and I guess I needed to see for myself he wasn’t changing. I thought it would help me move on.”
“Did it?”
I shook my head. “The only thing that’s going to help is time.”
He seemed contemplative, but he didn’t speak to me anymore. We sat there together for two hours before I had to leave. It went like that the next couple nights. Marco friendly enough, but distant, Julien sleeping between us.
On the fifth night, I walked into the hospital room and Marco wasn’t there. A doctor was by Julien’s bed, peeking under the bandages on his face.
“Oh, hi. Should I come back?”
She raised her eyes to me, and I was struck by midnight. “No. Have a seat. I’ll be done checking my patient momentarily.” She didn’t move back to Julien, giving me a long once-over first.
“Are you a friend of Julien’s?” Her accent was so light, it was barely there, but it gave her no-nonsense tone a lyrical lilt I bet she hated.
“Yes, I am. Are you…the plastic surgeon?”
Her gaze grew shrewd. “I am.” She peeled off her gloves, kicked open the trash can, and tossed them inside. “Are you a friend of my son as well?”
“Which one?” Even without looking at her nametag, I’d had little doubt who this woman was. Amir’s resemblance to his mother was incredibly strong. From his long, straight nose, thick brows, bow-shaped lips, and fathomless eyes, he shared many features with her.
She sniffed. “Rahim doesn’t have many friends, and those he does have wouldn’t spend their evenings sitting vigil by a hospital bed.”
“Rahim? I…um, don’t know who that is. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze settled on the tablet in her hands where she tapped away with elegant fingers, another feature she had passed on to Amir.
“My son goes by Reno. I refuse to refer to him as that.” She glanced at me again. She really was elegant all over, her dark hair tucked neatly at the base of her head, artfully applied makeup, small, tasteful diamond studs in her ears. “You must be Amir’s friend.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t explain who I was to this woman when I hadn’t wrapped my head around it myself. “I am.”
“I’m surprised. You seem like a nice young woman. My sons aren’t known to keep the best company. I’d advise you to be wary and not get involved too deeply with Amir. His brother has corrupted him to an irredeemable level. He’ll only drag you down with him.”
I jerked back at her harsh assessment. This was her son and she was speaking about him this way to a person she’d barely exchanged words with? Amir had devastated me, yet my loyalty was unshakable.
