Page 21 of DeLucas After Dark

“You’re never stepping foot into a doctor’s office with her.” Sansone doubles over and tears pour from his eyes.

“But you see why I can’t leave? If Sloane gets into her head that she needs to protect me and Tácito from bad news about the pregnancy, being a continent away could spell disaster. No matter how ‘safe’ people like to frame it, my wife’s life is in constant danger as she grows our family, and I’m powerless to protect her. Don’t ask me to leave under these circumstances.”

Sansone rises and paces his office.

“What about your number two guy, Donato? He’s been to Bari a couple times under Giulio and understands what it means to get called home.”

“True, but he’s in the hospital. Some new group thought they could take him out. Before he went down, Donato got every last one of them.” Sansone spins around, snapping his fingers. “We’re fucking idiots.”

“Speak for yourself.I’ma fucking genius myself.”

“No, stronzo. Just take Sloane with you. When you’re not dealing with Pierangelo, treat it like another vacation.”

“That could work, but I’ll have to talk it over with Tácito. His surgical calendar has been pretty full these days.”

The truth is, he hasn’t been handling Sloane’s demands well. I frown, remembering his arrival after an all-night shift; his fourth this week.

Since Sloane’s refusal to let us share in her pregnancy milestones, Tácito uses work to distract himself. When Sloane remarks on it because he’s hardly home, he cuts back. But that only lasts until her next doctor’s appointment. He’s in a cycle and I don’t know how to get him out of it.

Then again, maybe a trip to Bari is what the good doctor needs.

TÁCITO

The mayoral mansion beckons me as I drive through the gates. It stands against the brightening blue sky as the last vestiges of the night slink away.

Home is a welcome sight after the long day I’ve had. As I guide the car toward the entrance, exhaustion drags my eye lids down. For a second, I lose control of the car and swerve, but quickly gain command of the steering. At times like these, I wish I could benefit from hearing music blasting to keep me alert, but the feeling is fleeting. My life is full regardless of my disability. With a vigorous head shake, I clear the sleep from my mind. It should last until I park the car.

Another welcoming sight greets me as I pass the front door of the house. The vision of Sloane, bathed in the light of the sconces and wrapped in a heavy fall coat, sipping from a steaming mug, reenergizes me and pushes me to meet her and get her out of the cold.

Before I utter a word, she leans up and presses her lips against mine. I open, inviting her in. Fresh spearmint from the tea in her cup tempts my tastebuds and I seek more of her flavor. The long, languorous kiss fills my heart with warmth.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Welcome home. Here.” She hands me an insulated mug.

I breathe in the aroma of my favorite Chiapas blend and take a long sip of the hot liquid.

Sloane wraps her arms around my waist, prompting me to open my eyes that I inadvertently closed. “Come inside before you drop.”

“Lead the way.” I lean on her and drain the mug.

Inside, she helps me hang my coat and I do the same for her. Then we make our way upstairs.

“Did you stay up all night?” I frown at the lingerie she’s wearing, a sign that she left the warmth of our bed to welcome me home.

“I slept.” She rolls her eyes. “Valentino insisted, putting me to bed as if I were a child.”

A weak grin graces my lips at her disgruntled tone. “So he fucked you until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”

“He tucked me in after. It still counts.”

As we walk toward the bedroom door, I lean more of my weight on her, unable to keep standing under my own steam.

“Here, let’s get you in the bathroom. Valentino is still asleep, so don’t wake him.” She leads me to the toilet and closes the door. Then she runs the bath and returns to help me undress. “You’re in no condition for a shower. Why are you working yourself so hard?” Concern darkens her burnt-umber eyes.

I shrug, recognizing the futility in telling her. My fears stem from a secret I’ve kept from her and Valentino for the past five years. How can I tell them the nightmares from the last time I operated on her visit me almost daily?

She doesn’t know about our loss. That she’s pregnant with our second child because I had to remove the first to save her life. And I can’t ever tell her. Not even when her refusal to include me in her doctor’s visits spark my worry that something will go wrong and I’ll have to step in again.

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