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“Sorry, Mama. Sorry, Auntie Lotta.”
He walks toward the bed, and Chellie tries to stand. He and I speak at the same time.
“Stay.”
Luca understands, and I appreciate it. But it means we can’t talk about anything unless it’s in Italian. Even then, that means Mama and Auntie Carlotta need to leave.
“Enzo!”
Well, fuck.
It’s Matteo who responds.
“We’re in Enzo’s room.”
Maria barrels through the five men, my father on her heels. She rushes to the other side of my bed, but she slows down as she climbs on. She reaches for my wrist but sees that hand’s holding Chellie’s. My fiancée lets go, and Maria drags it over to her. She’s checking my pulse, and I know she’s looking at my pupils. She’s a radiologist and generally lets Auntie Carlotta handle stitching us up since she’s a general surgeon. But if this reassures my little sister that I’m okay, then let her check away. She wraps her hand around my thumb and the back of mine. She brings my knuckles to her lips.
“Don’t get shot. You know I don’t like it.”
A moment later, she pinches the back of my hand.
“Ow. I’ll remember.”
She slips off the bed and goes to stand with Matteo, who envelops her in a hug. Papa comes to stand behind Chellie.
“Carlotta said you’re going to be fine. I doubt you feel fine.”
“I’m not at my best, but I’ll survive.” I look at Chellie, who nods. “We got engaged tonight, so I have to live.”
Mama and Auntie Carlotta give us matching smiles, which tells me they already knew. Everyone else congratulates us, and I might have heard some muttered suggestions in Italian from the married men other than my father.
Papa shoots them all a warning look, and it’s my turn to laugh. Chellie’s brow furrows.
“I’m not translating. Suffice it to say, they have advice.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll translate.”
Maria chimes in. Of course. She has the same irrepressible smile that she’s had since she was a baby. I can’t help but feel better when I see it. But I grow serious when Uncle Domenico and Uncle Salvatore join everyone. They might have staggered all showing up at once, but when Mama said everyone, she meant everyone.
Uncle Salvatore stands next to Papa and pats his shoulder. As the older brother, I’m pretty sure Luca learned that from him. He does it to Marco and me. Sometimes it’s patronizing as fuck, but usually it’s a welcome sign of solidarity.
“Aunt Sylvia is home with the girls. She sends her love.”
“Thanks.”
I wouldn’t want Pia and Natalia to see me like this. I know I don’t look that bad, but they’re too young for truthful answers to their inevitable questions. It’s best they just don’t know. Uncle Salvatore looks over at Maria, and I see the slight dip on her chin.
“Hey, Michelle. I brought some clothes with me, and so did Sera. She, Sinead, and Olivia are downstairs. I’m pushier than all three of them put together. Would you like to get changed?”
Chellie looks down and seems to notice her clothes for the first time. There’s blood on her skirt and on her shirt. She stares at me before she nods. I know she doesn’t want to leave, and I don’t want her to. But the only choice is to speak Italian, and that would be rude. She whispers to me, and I realize she gets it.
“You need to discuss this, and I can’t listen. Just have one of the guys let me know when I can come back.”
She’s been stoic so far, but she looks like she’s going to burst into tears now. I speak so everyone can hear.
“Get changed, then come back. If you’re all right with us speaking Italian, I’d like you here.”
