Page 61 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

“I’m glad that we had a bed for your friend,” Doctor Gregory says to Grazia, lifting her chart out of the slot at the foot of the bed and walking over to look at the IV machine that is dispensing God knows what to the woman that I love.

“There’s no better place for someone with a brain injury,” Grazia says.

“Agreed,” Doctor Gregory says. “Is the fiancé here?”

“Present and accounted for,” I say from my place on the other side of the bed.

The doctor turns toward my voice and gives me a welcoming smile. “So sorry. I didn’t see you over there.”

“It’s a big room. Easy to lose a little fellow like me in here,” I jest, surprised that I can do so. Something about the posh and tidy private hospital has immediately improved my mood, however.

Grazia was right. This place is significantly nicer than the hospital by the Baldini home.

Doctor Gregory laughs, the sound throaty and somehow professional-sounding. “We try to make sure that patients aren’t stuffed into tiny little rooms around here. It’s much easier to treat them when there’s some room to breathe.”

Room to breathe, I think. That’s something that Kate hasn’t enjoyed since she was kidnapped by Grazia’s brothers.

“So, what do you think?” I ask. I look at Kate again, wishing that there was more color in her face.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Doctor Gregory says, looking at the chart again. “She’s not in great shape.”

My heart squeezes in my chest so hard that it actually hurts. I think wryly that if I’m having a heart attack, at least I’m in the right place to get help.

“However,” the doctor goes on. “There are some new treatments available for those with significant head trauma and we also have a stroke unit here that is the best in the country.”

“None of that matters if she’s in a coma,” I remind her.

Doctor Gregory gives me a smile again. “True enough,” she agrees.

Her expression grows more serious and she puts the chart back into the slot. “I want to change her medications before we do anything else. There are some new drugs that can help with swelling of the brain and which might also help to reverse the damage from the stroke. We will start there and see how things go.”

“Will she need another surgery?” I ask, my heart beating roughly in my chest.

The doctor sighs. “I can’t rule it out.” She turns back to me with another professional, yet welcoming grin. “But let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

I thank the doctor as Grazia leaves the room with her to go and collect the food that is being dropped off at the front doors of the hospital.

Alone with Kate again, I close my eyes and try to feel some hope. Certainly my spirits have been lifted by my surroundings, but Kate still has a long way to go.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you all those years ago,” I say to Kate quietly. The machines here beep more pleasantly and they don’t drown out my voice even at its softest. “I’m sorry that you felt that you had to run away from me to be safe.” My mouth twists. “It seems like even now, you would be far safer if you were nowhere near me. And maybe that is what we will have to do to protect you. Even though it kills me to think it, maybe it’s not safe for you and Mateo to live with me.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Grazia says to me as she bustles back into the room with my mother.

They are both carrying sacks of food and utensils. “My brothers are very dangerous men, is all. And they can’t be trusted for a second. She will be safe with you so long as you stay away from us after this.” She laughs like she has told a very funny joke and I chuckle along with her even if what she said was a bit macabre.

“This smells amazing,” my mother says as she starts to unwrap all the various containers and platters that were tucked into the insulated bags sent by Grazia’s cook.

“All of these dishes are made with my Nonna’s recipes,” Grazia says proudly, inhaling the aromas coming from the food and smiling.

I remember hearing about how huge the wake was for her grandmother. She was clearly an influential person in Grazia’s life.

“It still feels like yesterday that your Nonna passed away,” my mother says gently. She has a little smile on her lips. Clearly she’s remembering the other woman as she dishes up a plate of food for herself.

Grazia swallows and nods. “There’s little things every day that remind me of her,” she agrees. “Sometimes it’s hard, but then I think about how lucky I am, to have loved someone so much, that I'm missing her like this.”

“A wise attitude,” my mother says approvingly, grabbing herself a fork and sitting down.

I look over at Kate in her hospital bed, my chest feeling tight, the need to serve myself some food completely forgotten as I ponder Grazia’s words.

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