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That was fair.
“Is she from Navesink Bank?” she asked.
“Town over. She co-owns The Brunch Bar with her ma.”
Fuck, her poor mother.
I would never forget the look of sheer panic when she flew out of the back room, and saw the blood seeping out of her daughter.
I had to say, mothers deserved fucking awards for how cool they could keep under pressure in a serious emergency situation. She’d been freaked the fuck out, but she’d been talking calm with her daughter, helping her breathe through the pain, actively trying to make the situation a little less scary for Savannah.
“Okay. Well, one thing we can do is make sure that as soon as they open back up again, this entire fucking family starts going there for breakfast and lunch, right? We can single-handedly keep their business afloat.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. And it needed the patronage, that was for sure.
“I mean, I’m not saying it will make up for her getting shot, but it will help them in the long run. Lots of money in the tip jar, kind of thing. Especially if she doesn’t have decent medical insurance.”
I hadn’t even thought of that.
“Don’t,” she interrupted my thoughts, reading my mind. “You can’t offer to pay for her bills without it seeming suspicious. Besides, we already know what is going to happen now.”
“What?” I asked, brows pinching.
“You are going to go all ‘I owe you’ on her, and become her servant from now until eternity.”
I hadn’t even given it much thought, but, yes, absolutely.
“Which is fine. I think Matteo and Josie are getting sick of your ass anyway,” she said. “You said it was The Brunch Bar?” she asked, reaching for her phone.
“Yeah. But I imagine it won’t be open for a few days now. I think they were the only two working there.”
“That’s okay. I just want it on all the moms’ and cousins’ radars, so everyone knows to pop in if they see it is open again. But, yeah, get her flowers. If she seems like a sweets person, chocolate is never a bad idea. And socks. Soft socks. Maybe a soft blanket too. Hospitals are cold. Comfort items are a must. Do you want me to pick them up?” she asked as she texted.
“No, thanks, Smu… Sofia,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
Normally, I would relinquish the task to someone who clearly knew more about it than I did. But, somehow, it felt important to me to be the one doing the shopping. “Oh, can you do me a favor, though?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Figure out her last name for me, so I know who to ask for at the hospital.”
“Yeah, sure. If I’m not still here when you come down from your shower, I will leave it on a note.”
“Thanks, Sof. I appreciate it,” I told her, meaning it.
“Anytime. And if you need any more girl advice, you know where to find me.”
“Shopping for my brothers?” I asked, smirking.
“Do you have any idea how much food Dante and Santo go through?” she asked, rolling her eyes as she started to unpack my groceries.
“I can do that.”
“Shut up. It’s part of the service fee. Go get showered. You have shit to do.”
You had to appreciate how Smush handled herself.
With that, I made my way upstairs, taking a long, hot shower, feeling like I couldn’t quite wash the blood off, like it was a permanent stain on me, like it was a mark on my fucking soul.
