Page 57 of Alfie: Part Two

That was some lecture.

I swallowed and let his words settle within me, like frilly little flower beds by the bridges we were rebuilding together, and I couldn’t fucking believe how liberating it felt.

“Nothing I say can compare to that wordsmithery, so I’ll just say I love you a stupid amount, and thank you,” I said.

He squeezed my hand briefly. “You’re your own brand of smith, my love. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Mom had just been taken to a recovery room when West and I stepped out of the elevator.

“Dad’s supposed to meet us here,” I said.

He walked out of a set of doors seconds later, and I took a steadying breath and steeled myself.

I’d been warned that she looked worse. All the bruises had darkened since yesterday—but she was doing better, I reminded myself. All surgeries had gone off without a hitch, and she had pain relief. The good juice.

Dad looked so tired, and he hadn’t gone home to change clothes or have a shower yet.

“I think it’s best I stick around while you pick up the kids and go home later,” I said quietly. “Dad needs a break.”

West nodded. “Agreed.”

We met up with him closer to the doors, and I gave him a one-armed hug.

“How are you, old man?”

“Tired and fucked in the head.” He ruffled my hair like I was some kid. “The doc just finished an exam. I thought he kept saying lobotomy, but apparently laparotomy is a thing too.”

I lifted my brow. “Uh.”

“For the surgery they did in her abdomen,” he explained. “To close blood vessels or whatever he said—the internal bleeding.”

Oh. Yeah, okay.

“Anyway—just a heads-up,” he went on. “They’ll be putting her on blood thinners so the blood can, uh…clot properly…or something. And they warned us that her bruises would look worse, but it’s normal.”

Yeah, aight. I just needed to see her now.

Dad led the way down a corridor past the doors, and I hated the smell.

“Is she awake?” West wondered.

Dad tipped his hand. “Here and there. She can talk easier, but she’s drowsy as hell.”

I grabbed West’s hand. “Didju talk to the family?”

Dad nodded. “Everyone knows. I asked Giulia’s parents to hold off a few days, so I’m keeping them posted. But it’s better they fly in when she’s back home and resting.”

Yeah, definitely. It’d be nice to see Nana and Gramps again, though.

“What about Grandma and Pops?” I asked next. Just like my mom loved West possibly more than she loved me, Dad’s mom was mildly obsessed with her daughter-in-law. Ma was the daughter Grandma never had—and she had a daughter.

“They’re headin’ down from Boston this weekend,” he said.

“Please mention discreetly that I want stew in buckets,” I told him. Grandma made the best fucking Irish stew ever.

Dad chuckled quietly and stopped outside a door. “Quit thinkin’ about food, kiddo.”

“That’s a big bag of nope from me,” I swore. Then I swallowed uneasily and felt the need to crack another joke. Anything to mask the growing discomfort within. I hated being nervous.

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