Page 73 of Sexting the Don

Enzo

Istop pacing as Florence rushes through the hospital doors, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. I meet her halfway, and she barely pauses for a breath before pulling me into a tight embrace.

"How is she?" she asks, her voice shaky.

"She's still with the doctors," I reply. "They're checking both her and the baby. We should hear something soon."

“The baby?” she asks with disbelief in her voice.

The baby. God, what a way to find out I’m going to be a dad.

We both fall silent for a moment, the weight of everything that’s happened hanging heavily between us.

I know I have to break the news about Jimmy.

"Florence," I start, making sure I have her full attention. "Jimmy’s gone. He’s dead."

She covers her mouth with her hand, shock flickering across her face before it settles into a quiet acceptance. "Maybe it's wrong tofeel this way but I feel ... free, finally free. And relieved."

Her admission strikes a chord, a stark truth about finally being unburdened from years of living in fear.

"Mandy …" she whispers. "I had no idea she was pregnant."

"Me either," I confess, the memory of Mandy's desperate declaration vivid in my mind. "Not until tonight."

She narrows her eyes slightly, measuring me. “Are you happy about that?”

I let out a laugh and nod my head. “I’m over the fucking moon.”

She smiles in return. “Then I suppose this is as good a time as any to say congratulations.”

“Same to you, Grandma.”

We’re interrupted by a doctor approaching from down the hallway. Florence’s grip tightens on my arm.

"She’s stable," the doctor states, and I feel a relief so profound it's almost physical.

“And the baby?” Florence asks.

“All bloodwork looks good so far. Mandy’s hormone levels are where they should be.”

“Oh, thank God,” she replies.

Relief floods through me again.

He clears his throat, looking between Florence and me. "She was severely dehydrated, and the stress of what she went through took its toll. We're treating her for those conditions, and she's responding well. We’d like to keep her overnight forobservation."

“Of course,” I agree. “Can we see her now?”

The doctor turns and signals for us to follow him. We move quickly down the corridor, my steps brisk and determined, every second until I see Mandy for myself stretching out like hours.

As we walk, I'm already planning, figuring out how to better protect her and our child, knowing now there's more at stake than ever before.

I step into Mandy's hospital room. The sight of her, so fragile and hooked up to an IV, punches me in the gut harder than any physical blow I've ever taken.

Her pale face, the slight frown that creases her brow even in sleep—it's more than I was prepared to handle. But it strengthens my resolve even more that I will be here for her, protect her, no matter what it takes.

I make my way to her side quickly, my footsteps silent on the sterile hospital floor. Taking her hand in mine, I feel a surge of something fierce and protective. Her hand is cool, her grip weak, but the contact sends a wave of relief through me. She stirs slightly, her eyelids fluttering, a sign she’s fighting through the fog of medication and exhaustion.

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