Page 51 of Sinful Scars

15

ELLE

I’ve never been soexcited to change out of my scrubs. Nursing is rewarding, but the hours are often long and unsociable,especiallywhen you’re stuck on night shifts like I have been for most of September. While my body can climatize fairly quickly to a nocturnal schedule, the shifts are slow and everyone I know is always asleep, which means trying to make plans is a nightmare.

But for the next two weeks, I’ve been put on the day shift, which means I get to finish work when the sun is setting instead of rising.

However, after the day I’ve had, I’m actually considering quitting nursing altogether and getting a nice cozy little job in a cubicle where I can guarantee I won’t be peed or puked on, and my lunch will consist of more than just a granola bar that I wolf down as I run between the ER and ICU.

Rooting through my locker, I pull out my deodorant and some sweet-smelling body spray that I was influenced to buy by some shop assistant who looked barely outof middle school, in the hopes of masking the slightly foul smell that is clinging to my skin.

I got so excited at the prospect of finishing work at a reasonable hour that I scheduled dinner plans with Lucia tonight. Though, as I give my hair a quick sniff and grimace at the smell, I’m already regretting my decision not to suggest a takeaway and movie night in my cousin’s impressive home theater.

I stink of vomit and other bodily fluids that I’d rather not think about, but I don’t have time to shower before I’m meant to be meeting Lucia.

“That’ll have to do.” I run a brush through my hair before tying it back in a ponytail.

Throwing on a pair of low waist jeans and a cute navy cardigan, I gather the rest of my things and head out of the locker room, tossing my scrubs in the laundry bin as I go.

Lucia messaged me this morning to tell me that she managed to get us a table atAntonio’s, which makes the best authentic carbonara dish that has my stomach growling just thinking about it.

It’s not often I miss living in Italy, but after a big bowl of pasta and some good wine, I find myself missing my Nonna’s cooking. It’s been too long since I’ve been back to visit her. Life in New York never slows down, and I need to be more conscious of the fact that she’s growing older too.

As always,Antonio’s is packed, and, just to get to the host station, I have to push my way through a line of people hoping to get a table.

“I have a reservation under the name Conti,” I say a little breathlessly as I fight to untangle my scarf from my ponytail.

Fall is officially underway, and my cheeks already feel chapped from the walk over from the hospital.

Maybe it’s not just the food that I miss about Italy but the hot weather too.

“Ah, yes, your guest is already here.”

I frown, glancing at the time on my phone.

Lucia said she booked the table for eight, and it’s barely five past.

“Really?” My cousin is many things, but punctual is not one of them.

“She arrived about ten minutes ago.”

“Sorry, it’s just she’s normally the one running late.”

The maître d’ looks like he couldn’t be any less interested, so I shut my mouth and offer him a polite smile, indicating that I’m ready to be shown through to my table.

I find Lucia sitting in one of the private booths at the back of the packed restaurant, a martini already in her hand as she looks at the menu.

“I swear, since you’ve had Vivi, you’ve suddenly developed the ability to stick to a schedule.” I laugh as I slide into the booth opposite my cousin. “I was certain I would beat you here despite my shift running over.”

“Kids will do that to you.” She chuckles, setting down her drink. “Besides, I have to be back by ten to relieve Mikhail of his duties because he’s meeting Anton and Danil atEspionagelater tonight.”

“Remember when we used to be the ones going out at ten? Now look at us, having dinner and drinks and going to bed at a reasonable hour like civilized adults.”

I can’t deny the fact that I’m pleased with the idea of getting home by ten, though it’s not because I have any intention of getting an early night.

“Ugh, I know. Motherhood has meant my spontaneity has gone right out the window along with my tolerance foralcohol.” Lucia shakes her head. “But it means I’m a cheap date.”

“You are anything but cheap.” I chuckle.

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