Page 7 of Sins of Bliss

“Mr. Lucchetti?—”

“I need to know she is safe.”

My nurse sighs deeply, setting the clipboard she’s holding down on the edge of my bed to scroll through the tablet she’s holding easier. “I will do my best to find out what I can about Miss Adler.”

I read between the lines, knowing there are legal guidelines for what she can and cannot tell me. “Please. I would like to see her and Cain Michaels. I need to know they’re safe.”

“I’ll do my best to reach them, Mr. Lucchetti. Now, can I get you anything in the meantime?”

“Water. Please.”

She nods. “I’ll be right back.”

Turning, she scurries from the room quickly, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.

Anguish pushes through the forefront of my emotions.

More memories of the barbecue come rushing back to me as I lay in the hospital bed and wait for the nurse or the doctor.The sickening crack of Rosie’s skull as it hit the pavement reverberates through my mind. Then, at the same moment, monumental pain erupted in my body. Everything fades after that—I must have gone unconscious.

My visions turn to images of my loved ones—Mamma, Papà, my brothers, Enzo, Sullivan, and Vincenza. I could have left this earth without seeing them again. Withoutspeakingto them again. The thought causes a sharp pain in my chest.

Vincenza.

What I wouldn’t give to hold her in my arms and feel the softness of her skin against mine. To smell her sweet, cherry blossom scent.

My hand reaches to touch the cherry blossoms tattooed into my skin, and I hiss, the movement causing a searing pain from the trauma to my chest.

But it’s nothing compared to the gaping wound that the thought of leaving this world without seeing Vinnie one last time has reopened in my heart.

A knock sounds from the outside of my hospital room and seconds later, a doctor is pushing through the door, staring down at my chart. He’s a younger man, not much older than I am, if at all.

“Mr. Lucchetti. I’m Doctor Roan. How are you feeling?” he asks, looking me over, then looking at the machines I’m hooked up to.

“I’ve been better. What is the damage, amico?”

“Straight to the point,” he states. “I can respect that. The injuries you sustained weren’t as bad as they could have been. You’re very lucky. We were able to bring you in for surgery immediately upon your arrival and tend to the gunshot wound. You suffered a tension pneumothorax caused by fragments from the bullet, but they weren’t severe enough to need intervention—your lung should be healed on its own within the next week or two.”

As the doctor speaks, I drone out his voice. Easily, I could read my charts myself and understand exactly what my body has gone through and know what my recovery will entail, but I give the man the respect he deserves and appear to listen.

Truthfully, my thoughts are in two places at once. Here, in Ridgewood, wondering about the status of mia preferita, Rosie, and the man I now call my friend, her boyfriend, Cain. But they’re also across the country, in New York, with lingering memories of amore mio.

A weaker man would have broken down and contacted her by now, and perhaps I should allow myself to take on that title for the amount of times I’ve longed to reach out to her—the number of times I’ve looked up her name in the search engine of the web browser. Still, I’ve resisted.

Now I’ve almost lost my life, while a new beginning for hers looms closer.

Within a few weeks, Vincenza will become Mrs. St. Jean.

And that hurts worse than any gunshot wound ever could.

“Do you have any questions, Mr. Lucchetti?” the doctor asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

Slowly, I reach up and adjust the nasal cannula resting in my nose. “How long until I can take this off? And the IVs.”

I already know the answer, but the doctor doesn’t know my background. No one in Ridgewood does. To the people I’ve crossed paths with during my time here, I’ve never confessed my knowledge of medicine. To them, I am just a man from New York, running to escape the pain of losing his love to another man.

“Let’s just take things day by day for now and see how you’re feeling. Your nurse will be back in shortly. Should anythingemergent arise, I’ll be back. Otherwise, I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

I nod, laying my head against the pillow. Before I close my eyes, I say, “Thank you, Doctor.”

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