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I made Cesare work his ass off to prove his worth to me and we were only fourteen years old. I thought the months we’d spent being friends had built a solid foundation for our relationship. But then he fooled around with Kiersten Karminski.
“His breathing is labored.” The EMT hovers over Cesare as the ambulance races through the streets of Manhattan. The hospital is 2.5 miles from the grocery store, but we have to get past the university. Even with the lights on the truck flashing and the sirens blaring, the college kids hit the crosswalk lights and step into the street in front of us. It jostles the vehicle every time the driver has to hit the brakes and honk his horn. What should be a five-minute drive feels like an eternity.
“Vitals look good, though.” The other EMT adds after a few moments. “His heart rate is elevated, but not critically. Blood loss is slowing. Ma’am,” he looks at me, “you might have saved his life by putting pressure on the wound.”
It was all I could do in the heat of the moment. What can I say?
Kiersten Karminski was a senior, and everything I wasn’t.
I was 5’0”, she was 5’8” and wore three-inch heels to English class. She was all legs, and it made every guy stare. I felt dumpy standing next to a girl like her.
I had red hair and freckles; she was blonde with a membership to Sun Tan City. It didn’t matter if it was twelve degrees outside and snow was falling, Kiersten Karminski looked like she’d just gotten back from the beach.
I struggled to put on weight where it mattered: my ass and tits. Kiersten was a walking-talking ad for Victoria’s Secret. I couldn’t fill out the B-cup bras I kept telling my mom to buy, and Kiersten complained about back pain because her double Ds were too big. I couldn’t sympathize with her when high school boys were telling me that I belonged in the itty bitty titty committee.
I wasn’t ready to go all the way with Cesare yet; Kiersten went down on him behind the bleachers at a football game.
When I found out that Cesare had cheated on me, I hated them both, but I hated Kiersten a little bit more. It wasn’t her fault or anything, but I was so angry that a perfect-looking girl like her would come after my man. She could have had anyone in the school. Why did she need to take Cesare from me?
“Miss, you’re going to need to wait here.” The ER nurse is very kind, and her hands are warm. I notice it when she’s grabbing my wrists and trying to get my attention. My eyes are glued on the gurney taking Cesare to surgery.
“I need to be with him.” His blood is on my shirt. “That’s my best friend.”
The nurse squeezes my wrists firmly. “We’re going to take care of your husband, miss. These kinds of injuries are rarely fatal. He might lose some sensation in his arm or some mobility, but he won’t die.”
He won’t die. He won’t die. He. Won’t. Die.The words play in my head on repeat, breathing fresh air into my lungs. My best friend isn’t going to die today.
“Take a seat, honey. I’ll get you a bottle of water while you wait.” She’s a nice woman.
A few years ago, when Peter and I had gone to Kansas City for our second wedding anniversary, we holed up at the Chateau Avalon Hotel and Spa for the weekend. We were in the middle of a couple’s massage when my phone started ringing. I apologized to the masseuse for leaving it on and she kindly brought me my bag so I could turn it off.
I was going to turn it off, really, I was. Peter and I promised one another we would stay off social media and reduce our screen time this weekend. We wanted our anniversary to be about us.
But Cesare’s contact image was splashed across my screen, and my anxiety shot through the roof. He knew not to call me. He was watching our cat for the weekend and I had instructed him to call only in the event of an emergency. I was sure something terrible had happened to Lucky, so I picked up.
“Hey, I know you told me not to call,” he started the conversation, “but you need to find someone else to watch Lucky. I was in a car accident, and I’m in the hospital.”
My heart stopped. My world stopped spinning. The man I loved was in the hospital and I was a hundred miles away.
One discarded bottle of water later, the waiting room is full of Valentis. Raniero paces the floor while shooting angry looks at the receptionist. Sloane tries to talk to her and explain the situation, but the woman staunchly refuses to update us on Cesare’s condition. Mateo is full of barely concealed rage and keeps answering his phone to make hushed requests from the person on the other end. Stefano sits quietly in the corner with Nicolette gently stroking his arm and whispering in his ear.
“There has to be an update. You’re telling me he’s been in surgery for two hours now?” Sloane, Luca’s wife, scoffs at the receptionist. “What are they doing, transplanting his shoulder? Either you have news, or you don’t.”
The receptionist gives Sloane a little huff before slamming the plastic divider between the two of them, effectively cutting off communication. I expect a City Commissioner to act a little more appropriately, but Sloane slams her fists down on the counter in front of her and lets out a little scream. “I want to speak to your boss!” She demands.
“That’s some Karen behavior right there,” I hear Nicolette whisper a few seats away.
“Shh,” Stefano says with a wan smile, “if it gets us some answers, then let her be the biggest Karen the hospital’s ever seen.”
“Mrs. Valenti?” A handful of heads turn toward the woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen when she realizes that his entire family must be here. “Er, I mean, Cesare Valenti’s wife?”
Raniero frowns. “He doesn’t have—”
I pop out of my chair before Raniero blows my cover. “That’s me,” I announce loudly. “But these are his brothers.” I gesture toward the other men in the room.
The nurse looks from me to the men, and each new face causes her eyebrows to knit together a little tighter. “Mr. Valenti is out of surgery and awake. He’s asking to see his wife. He can have guests,” she pauses, “but not this many. You can take one of them back with you.”
“I’ll go,” Raniero offers. “It’ll be me and his wife.”
