21. Franco

Chapter 21

Franco

She was dead when we wheeled her into this hospital two days ago. I thought she was gone. My heart was already grieving the loss when they took her into surgery. Glass doors closed in my face, shutting me away from her. I was left to wait.

I am still waiting by her side, but she hasn't woken up yet. I'm not good at waiting, it's frustrating as hell. I stood next to her bed and wanted to shake her, to yell at her to just open her eyes. I don't think the doctors would approve. They already don't like the security and risk that comes with having a member of my family in the building.

Apparently, we make them nervous—with all our guns and violence. I am the nervous one. Every time a machine beeps or a doctor comes into the room, I hold my breath and pray.

"Mr. Morelli," the doctor who has just looked at her charts greets me. "The baby is fine, strong and healthy. Aria is doing well. She lost a lot of blood. It's going to take time for her body to recover."

"How long? "

"It's a bullet wound. I can't give you an exact timeframe. But we are going to wake her up later today and see how she does without the heavy sedation."

I'm both relieved and terrified at what to expect when she wakes up. We left things unresolved between us. I let my anger cloud my judgment. "Will she be able to go home soon?"

The doctor looks annoyed when I ask. I keep asking them, and she's not even awake yet.

"Franco." I get the glare. "Mr. Morelli. Your wife got shot. She's pregnant and right now fragile. I will let you know when it's safe for her to move to home care. But no, it will not be soon."

I sigh with frustration and go back to holding her hand. "But she'll be fine."

"If we keep her under observation and take good care of her, she can make a full recovery. But it's important not to rush these processes," the doctor says before leaving. "Mr. Morelli," he says at the door.

I turn to look, but he's actually addressing Marco, who is standing in the doorway watching us.

"You're not welcome here," I grumble, squeezing Aria's hand.

"I've come to talk. Come have a cup of coffee with me." He doesn't move, and neither do I. "Please, Franco, I want to discuss Aria's position in our family."

I sigh and get up, kissing her fingers and walking out. We walk in silence to the shitty cafeteria, where we order two cups of coffee and sit down in one of the corners, Marco's guards nearby.

"You still want to exile her? If she goes, I go, Marco," I say.

"No, that's not what I want." He sighs. "She proved herself. She was willing to sacrifice her own life for us. She has a place in this family as your wife."

I eye him out with suspicion. "So it took her getting shot for you to come to your senses."

"You pushed me," Marco says. "You took my bride, got her pregnant, married her..."

"Not in that order," I comment, sipping my coffee. "Sometimes things just feel right, and Aria and I together is the right thing, Marco."

"I see that now, and I accept it." He sips his coffee. "I want to make things right."

"We're moving out of the mansion," I say quietly. "I want our own home where we can raise our family."

"Fair enough, my niece or nephew's going to need a nice estate to grow up on," Marco says.

I nod. "I've got one in mind. It's outside of the city, more in the suburbs. It has a vineyard."

"Whatever you want, the family will get it for you," Marco says, downing his coffee.

I nod and drain my own cup. "I'm going back. They're waking her up today."

"Good luck. Keep us posted. "

I nod and walk back to her room, visible from far because of the two guards that stand outside of it.

I sit back in my chair and take Aria's hand, lacing our fingers together. The wait for the doctors feels like an eternity, but soon enough, they come in.

"We'll need you to step back, Mr. Morelli," the doctor says.

I step up and back, but I stay in the room. They fuss over her, taking her vitals and checking on her before they inject something into her IV that's running into her arm.

I wait with bated breath. A small groan escapes her lips, and I feel a rush of relief. I almost want to collapse on the floor as her eyes flutter open, and she tries to keep them open. She closes them again.

"Franco." her voice is strained, but I push my way to her bed and take her hand.

"I'm here, Aria. I'm here." I kiss her fingertips. "It's going to be okay."

She swallows and licks her dry lips. I pour her a glass of water and put a straw in it, holding it to her lips. She takes a sip and rests back. "I'm so tired."

"You were shot," I say quietly. "You've been out for days."

"The baby..." she opens her eyes to look at me, disorientated.

I smile. "That baby is going to be fine. The doctors are keeping an eye on the baby. You don't have to stress."

She nods and closes her eyes. "I want to sleep."

"Rest," I say quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She dozes off, and I smile proudly. "She's a Morelli, that's for sure."

I visit her every day. She steadily grows stronger and soon is walking around the hospital with me, her IV in tow.

As her arm begins to heal and her body gets stronger, the doctors recommend that Aria start physiotherapy in order to regain full mobility in the injured arm.

"Will it be painful?" I ask her doctor.

"Unfortunately." She finishes her check-up and looks happy with Aria's progress. "You rest now, mommy. You've done very well." She tells Aria before helping her to lay back down. For all my poking and prodding, I have to admit that they've treated her exceptionally well. I know I irritate them with my incessant questions and protectiveness, but they're too professional to show it. They're probably used to it when it comes to partners and spouses.

She turns her attention back to me and indicates for me to follow her out. She turns to Aria.

"I'm just going to give your husband an update on your progress, put his mind at ease." She rolls her eyes, and Aria laughs. The two of them seem to have a kind of camaraderie with me as the "indulged hubby." It makes me feel better somehow that at least one of the doctors doesn't just see her as a mafia wife .

In the hall, she stops a few feet away from the guards. They are out of earshot but within a comfortable enough range so that they don't get jumpy.

"Mr. Morelli, your wife has been through a tremendous amount. I know that you know that, but what you may not realize is that when the body experiences this kind of trauma, it kind of goes into shock, which causes parts of the body to shut down, and all its resources go toward healing the affected area. It's miraculous but also dangerous because the longer we allow the body to focus purely on one area or don't start exercising and resetting the way it works, the more likely it is that the damage will become irreversible. Aria is right-hand dominant. That means that, yes, the therapy will be painful, but it also means that should it be successful, she will be able to use the arm with problems like tremors, spasms or freezing. You guys are going to be parents, and the last thing you want is for her to be picking up the baby and be unable to hold her or him securely. It will devastate her. Please, let us do what we need to and stop stressing out. She loves you, and she picks up on your fear and discomfort, but that's not good."

Not many people, regardless of who they are, would have the guts to speak to me like this—I'm used to the Morelli name, making everyone obedient. It's a relief because it shows that her only interest is in making my wife whole and helping her be the best mom that she can be. It pleases me, and I have decided to back down.

"I love her too."

"I know." She goes to sit on a bench just outside another room. I follow her. "I've only been doing this a few years, but I've begun to figure out a few things about healing that they don't teach you in medical school. Believe me when I tell you that you two are going to be ok. Your wife will be back to full health in no time. It's great that you love her, but don't make her more concerned with your comfort than her healing. It often happens in situations like this—feelings of guilt and fear make us crazy. Let it go. No one blames you, especially your wife." She gets up and taps my shoulder before moving on to her next patient. She's no more than Aria's age but so centered and wise. She's quirky as fuck, but a good person, like my dad likes to say.

***

Aria has been released, and I'm bursting with joy. I don't know why, but having her in there was tough for me. Being away from her and not sleeping next to her night after night was torture.

It's made me reflect on a lot of things, like how my eagerness to have her home had more to do with me than her. I didn't like being away from her and the not knowing.

The doctor was right about the guilt and fear. It took me a minute, but eventually, I did learn to temper it. I'm still not perfect, like the time I yelled at her physiotherapist when she screamed out during a session. "Mrs. Morelli is not happy with you," the therapist said mockingly and with her thick accent after the session. She was right. Aria read me the riot act, but that's over now, and we're in the car on the way to our new home.

I haven't told her. I wanted it to be a nice surprise, but now that we're almost there, I'm beginning to worry that maybe it wasn't such a great idea to keep it from her. A new home is a really big deal, and it might have been insensitive of me to make the decision without her. It's going to be our home, not mine.

I've loved the property since I first set eyes on it, and when it went on the market, I knew that I had to have it. I knew it was where I wanted to spend all our lives together.

She perks up when she realizes that we're not headed toward the compound.

"Where are we going?" she asks while her eyes take in the unfamiliar landscape.

"I just need to pop in and see someone. Won't be long." Thank God I can still lie convincingly.

She fusses with her hospital clothing.

"Oh, honey! I wish you'd told me. I can't meet anyone now. I look terrible like I've gone ten rounds with a rabid wolverine." She pulls down the visor to look at herself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," I say, trying to reassure her without giving the game away.

"On that subject, you are not a reliable source. Pregnancy hormones and being shot trying to save your brother have colored your testimony." I laugh, and she joins me. Even on the mend, she still keeps me on my toes and is quick as a whip.

I reach over and take her hand as she tries to take down her updo.

"Will you just trust me? It's fine. It's not that kind of appointment." She side-eyes me.

"It better not be if you want to enjoy the benefits of that hormone surge that makes expectant mommies so randy! That's all I'm saying." She closes the visor and looks away. "It is a beautiful area though."

"Yes. I've always loved it."

We pull up to the estate, and a canopy of trees welcomes us as we make our way up the driveway.

"OMG! It's a deer and a fawn!" She looks so happy that the last month simply melts from her face and body. She stares out at the amazing lawns and the wildlife that come here to feed. The mother deer gets on her hind legs and munches at an apple on one of the trees before ripping it off and nudging it toward her baby. Who, true to form, first tries to grab one of his own and is rewarded with a tumble.

The house erupts in front of us like a mirage. It's beautiful and modern but with understated classical touches that somehow work to create a feeling of warmth and welcome.

"Wow! This is beautiful. I don't care how I look. I want to see inside!" she says like a naughty child.

We walk up to the house hand in hand, and it occurs to me that this is the first time that I've held her hand like any other normal couple. We walk up to the door, and I reach out to open it.

"Hey!" She smacks my hand away. "You don't just walk up to someone's house and let yourself in. Unless...this isn't a hit, is it? Franco, not on my first day out of hospital!" She looks exasperated, and it makes me hunch over as my body's wracked with laughter .

"Babe, no!" I say through fits of laughter. The door opens, and the house manager smiles.

"Welcome home, sir, madam!" He says, looking at Aria.

"Home?" She looks from him to me.

"Yes. Surprise!" I say sheepishly. My heart is in my throat, wondering how she'll react.

She stands frozen in the doorway. The house manager, Louis, ushers her in and takes our coats.

"Would madam care for something warm to drink?"

She struggles to answer him.

"Could you prepare two hot chocolates, Louis? We'll have them in the living room by the fireplace once I've shown Mrs. Morelli around our new home."

He nods and, after a "certainly, sir," walks off to make the drinks.

"Our home? Franco? Really?" she asks, still afraid to take a step further than the entranceway.

"Yes. What do you think?"

She takes it in. She seems almost intimidated.

"If you don't like it, we can change it. Move. Redecorate. Redesign. I know I really should have spoken to you before, but it was priced to move...I've made a mistake, haven't I?" I turn and look at the house.

"It's beautiful. I love it!" she says. Tears start to roll down her cheeks.

"No, no! No tears. It's a happy day," I say, scooping her up with raining kisses on her wet cheeks.

"They're happy tears. Ecstatically happy tears," she whimpers.

"Do you want to see the rest of it?" I ask, and she nods. I take her through our new home, and with each room, she begins to believe me and opens up. Relaxes and begins to envision our life here together. The room next to ours will be the nursery.

"We'll have to wait and see which color to paint it. I've always hated neutral colors for babies. I hate green and yellow. I don't care if he likes pink or she likes blue. As long as it's a color they love," she says.

"The same goes for the rest of the house. As long as it's what we love."