Page 88 of This Thing of Ours

They waited andthen waited some more. Gabby paced. Sat. And paced again. She drank two cups of coffee, used the bathroom, then drank another two. She was edgy, jittery, and friggin’ scared.

And still, they had no news.

The rest of the guys had finally joined them, they did the sitting, standing, pacing thing, too. It had been Frankie who’d gone on the coffee run. He’d also come back with donuts, but her stomach had been too knotted to even think about food.

The mood was solemn. She would catch pieces of whispered conversations, but it was all just background noise to Gabby. Her mind was with Marco, reenacting their time together.

Then suddenly, the doctor appeared, and Gabby’s stomach dipped, not sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. She couldn’t tell the status of the news from looking at him. He looked tired, and fresh from the operating room, still dressed in aqua scrubs with a surgical mask hanging from his neck. The little bootie things even still covered his shoes.

All eyes in the room turned to Greene as he stopped to grab a coffee and down a big swig.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

That remark had come from Ricky, and Gabby was in complete agreement. She wasn’t sure her heart could take a second longer of anticipation.

Finally, Greene said, “He’s in recovery.”

Gabby heard a smattering of,thank Christ, fuckin’ A,andthank Godsthroughout the room, but she needed more reassurance. “He’s going to be okay?”

“He’s a lucky bastard. Only nicked his kidney. That's why there was so much blood but able to hold on for so long. Found the bullet and sewed him up. Barring infection, he should make a full recovery.”

Relief. A wave of it rushed through her so swiftly, she had to sit down because her whole body started to shake, and she wasn’t sure her legs would support her.

She distantly heard Nico ask, “When can we see him?” And Doc’s reply of, “He’s still under but should be waking soon. Depending on his reaction, he could be groggy for a while yet, but you can go in and see him at any time.”

Gabby jumped up. “Where is he?”

Greene looked at her with a critical eye. “You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should sit back down.”

Nico took hold of her arm. “She’s fine. Just tell us where Marco is.”

Gabby raised her free hand and used it to cover the one Nico had on her arm, giving it a squeeze in gratitude. Knowing Marco was out of surgery, she didn’t want to waste another minute not being with him.

She wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her—tubes coming out of Marco’s arm and hooked up to formidable looking monitors that made disturbing sounds. Nico didn’t let go of her until he sat her in a chair at Marco’s bedside. She scooted it forward until she was close enough to reach his hand, sandwiching it between her own. The skin was chilled, but her hands were almost as cold, and she didn’t think she’d be successful in warming it.

Nico moved to the other side of the bed and stood, hands clutching the guardrail, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

And that’s how they stayed, for what felt like hours, silently watching and waiting for Marco to rouse.

During that time a nurse popped in, fiddled with one of the machines and checked Marco’s pulse. Gabby asked if she knew when he would wake up, and she replied that it could be any minute. But that any minute turned into many more.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Gabby whispered, not daring to speak louder, worried voicing her fears would jinx something.

Nico sighed. “I don’t know, polpetta. We just need to give the anesthetic time to wear off.”

Gabby felt like it should’ve done so by now. What if something was wrong? What if Greene missed something?

Nico’s phone beeped, and he pulled it from his pocket to check it. “It’s Olivia. I’ll be back.”

Gabby nodded, barely paying attention, her mind having gone on a wild tangent of what ifs. “Please wake up.”

She stood, wanting to get closer, letting go of his hand with one of hers but still holding on with the other. The guardrail hindered her progress, but she didn’t want to release his hand to try to figure out how to lower it. Instead, she ended up leaning against it. “You never knew about this, but when I was eighteen, the captain of our school’s football team, Billy Thornton, asked me to prom. And even though it had been six months, I was still so heartbroken at seeing you with that woman on my birthday, I’d said yes.

“Mom was so excited. I never dated, and she couldn’t wait to take me dress shopping. She dragged me to so many stores. Nothing was right. But then she found it. The perfect dress. It was beautiful. Dark gray silk. A halter-style top with a plunging neckline that Dad hated. The skirt fell in panels to mid-knee. I loved it. And the shoes we found to go with it were so pretty. Plumb velvet with a peek-a-boo toe and a crystal rhinestone strap that clasped around the ankle. The heels were so high, I had to practice walking around in them for days.

“I’d planned to sleep with him that night. Stupid, I know. But he was handsome and popular with all the girls, so I figured he’d know what he was doing, and it wouldn’t be horrible. I’d convinced myself it was okay to settle for second best.

“In hindsight, I’m glad that fate intervened. He called the day of. Said he’d been in a car accident the night before and was pretty banged up. I saw him in school the following week, his face had still been a mess but healing. Funny, but he avoided me after that. Guess he felt bad about standing me up at the last minute.”

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