Page 77 of Arranged

“He’s being transferred to the ICU now, and then a nurse will let you know when you can see him.”

“Thank you,” I gush. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course, ma’am.” His eyes dart to my brother before leaving.

“Oh, thank God.” I collapse back into the seat and scrub my hands over my face.

“You’re really worried about him,” Vinny says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because we asked you to marry him to help us and you were outraged. What changed?”

I roll my eyes. “A lot has changed, Vin. He’s a good man,” I defend.

“Are you telling me you’re in love with him?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill him if he’s made you do anything you–” I hold my hand up to stop him from going there.

“Stop, Vin. Santino hasn’t made me do anything I haven’t wanted to do.”

“Except marry him,” he counters.

“Well…” I tilt my head back and forth, unsure how to tell him. “Not exactly.”

“The fuck?” he growls.

“Look, Vinny, I appreciate your concern, but I’m exhausted, scared, starving, and feel like my face is coated in tears. I don’t want to get into this now, or ever, really. Santino and I are married, and anything aside from that is now no one’s business but ours.”

He stares down at me, his jaw flexing under the pressure of his clenched teeth, but he doesn’t say anything else on the topic.

“I’m going to call Leo to let him know Santino’s alive.”

“Mrs. Antonucci?” A nurse comes into the lounge a few minutes later.

“Yes?”

“You may see your husband now. He’s still unconscious, but you may sit with him.”

“Thank you.” I stand and follow her around the hospital to his room. The moment I see him lying there, pale and practically lifeless, my hand flies to my mouth to muffle my whimper. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“He made it through the surgery well, and his vitals are great so far.”

“It’s okay if I sit with him?”

“Yes, and if you need anything, there’s a button on his bed and the nurse’s station is just down the hall.”

“Thank you.”

I move one of the chairs that’s by the table in the corner to beside the bed, and my legs give out. My eyes rake over every visible part of his body outside of the thin blanket, and I hesitate to touch him, my hand freezing mid-air.

His shoulder is covered in a large white gauze bandage, and my hand shakes as I pull back the edge of the blanket to see his torso completely wrapped in another thick bandage.

I blink away more tears and take a deep, steadying breath.

He’s alive. We have more time.

I drop the blanket back down and take his hand, kissing his knuckles and resting my forehead on the back of it, needing to be connected to him.

I fall asleep on him, and it isn’t until the nurses come in to check on him that I’m startled awake.

---