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I’m sure that’s thanks to whatever pain medicine they have dripping into my veins.
“You’re awake!” My mother tosses the blanket off her lap and lunges off the couch toward me. “My baby girl. You’re awake!” She captures my hand in hers, and tears fall down her cheeks.
It’s not hard crying, like she did at Tommaso’s funeral.
It’s lullaby soft.
“I’m here, Mom.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m okay.”
And I am.
I could’ve been killed. I’m grateful I’m alive.
She releases my hand and snags her phone from the couch. “Let me tell everyone you’re awake.”
I groan. “Please, keep it small. Immediate family only.”
She nods, as if she’s listening.
A few minutes later, the door swings open. Benny steps into the room with Cristian following him.
My husband’s clothes—the same from the funeral, minus the blazer—are wrinkled. I stare at him as he walks around the bed to my side, and his tired eyes meet mine when he reaches me. Cristian and my mother keep their distance, giving us a moment.
A flutter swoops through my belly—not wound-related—when he brushes his thumb along my cheek.
“How do you feel, baby?” he asks.
“Like I’ve been shot.” I smile with cracked lips.
“Pretty much sums it up.”
He cradles my face in his hand, not caring he’s showing this affection in front of others. “You took a bullet for me.”
I suddenly turn shy. “I took a bullet for my husband.”
His face turns guilt-stricken. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
“You didn’t shoot me, Benny.” I wrap my hand around the wrist of the hand holding my face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Yes, I do.” His hand shakes in my hold. “I’m supposed to protect you.”
“And that’s what you did.” I shut my eyes, remembering how he carried me through the rain and begged me to hold on to him on the drive to the hospital. “You brought me here and saved my life.”
“Knock, knock!”
Our gaze swings to the doorway as a nurse walks in.
She grins from ear to ear. “I heard you woke up. Let’s get you comfortable, and I’ll let the doctor know.”
The nurse takes my blood pressure and temperature and tells me to hit my call button if I need anything.
As the day passes, I feel like a zoo animal.
The doctor visits, asks a million questions, tells me I’m lucky, and gives me directions on how to nurse my wound when I get home. Benny pays more attention than I do and asks the doc a few questions.
My mother is up and down, kissing my cheek and then calling a family member to report my well-being status. When my father arrives, he hands my mother her favorite Starbucks drink and kisses my cheek.
My sisters visit.
