Page 79 of Anyone But You
Victoria’s mother lay in a hospital-grade bed, propped up with pillows. Gospel music played low from a speaker near the window next to the monitors that blinked quietly beside her. A cream buttery leather recliner for guests sat beside the bed.
“I had her transferred here this morning,” I said quietly. “I wanted her close and safe.”
Victoria’s voice cracked.
“This… this is what you meant when you said she was transferred to the best facility on Staten Island.” She turned to me and gazed at me with wide, shimmering eyes. “You did all this?”
I nodded.
“She deserves dignity, and you deserve peace.”
Victoria slowly approached her, and her mother stirred when Victoria’s fingers curled around her hand. Mrs. Caldwell smiled softly. Perhaps it was faint recognition, or just a motherly instinct that illness could never take away. Whatever it was, I was grateful.
“Hey, Mom. I’m back,” she whispered, kissing the back of her mother’s hand. Mrs. Caldwell opened her mouth to speak, butthe words never came. The moment was touching—too touching, forcing me to excuse myself.
“Tori, I need to take a call.”
She glanced back at me, tears trailing down her cheeks.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that this is permanent. She’s home now,” I said before leaving the guest house.
I cleared my throat several times and dialed the number I knew by heart.
“Hello?”
“Ma… it’s me… Giovanni.”
* * *
I limped into the en suite bathroom with my cane and sighed at the beautiful sight before me—my wife soaking peacefully in a bubble bath.
I dragged the bench from what would be her vanity and positioned it in front of the claw-foot bathtub. I sat and watched her in silence, eyes roving over her exposed shoulders, slick from the bath oil I’d poured into the tub when I ran her bathwater. The top of her cleavage rose and fell rhythmically above the thick layer of bubbles, and I had the urge to reach beneath the suds and pinch her nipples.
Sensing my presence, Victoria briefly cracked an eye open before closing it.
“You know, usually I charge for this kind of thing.”
I smiled and settled my chin on top of my cane. “And what kind of thing is that?”
“Letting old men watch me in a state of undress.”
“You have a good eye for business,” I remarked.
“Mhm,” she hummed, shifting her legs beneath the water. My eyes were drawn to them like a cat chasing a laser pointer. “Did you need something, Gio?”
“I’m famished and thought that maybe you’d enjoy one of my famous handmade pizzas and a glass or two of wine before we settled for the evening.”
“You make pizzas?” she asked skeptically, raising a brow.
“The pizza oven in the kitchen isn’t for show.”
“You can’t make pizza better than Vince,” she challenged playfully.
I scoffed and abandoned the bench. “You say that now, but I’ll have you begging me to make pizzas every day. You’ll gain that Freshman Forty in no time.”
“Oh, you’re funny.”
