Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“Al?”
Joey shakes his head. “He’s alive, that’s all I know. They’re still evaluating.”
“Okay. Okay. You two talk. Sounds like you have some things to discuss.” To me, she mouths, “Congratulations.”
Of course, Joey sees it and turns a quizzical look back on me.
“Joey, I’m sorry. I made a huge mistake. I got scared, and I pushed you away.”
“It’s okay, baby. The miscarriage sent your hormones haywire, and–”
“I’m still pregnant,” I interrupt.
Joey goes still.
“I’m still pregnant. I lied about the miscarriage because I was freaking out about marrying you. I’m so sorry.” I hold my breath, hoping he won’t be angry. Hoping he can forgive me.
“You’re still pregnant,” he repeats with no inflection in his tone whatsoever. Nothing to tell me what he’s thinking. “You’re still pregnant!”
I laugh because this time I hear his joy.
“Aw, baby.” His eyes mist as he lifts me into a fierce embrace, then winces and sets me down.
“Oh, Joey.” My heart tumbles in my chest over his pain. I put my hands on his ribs, sending energy through my palms.
He cradles my face in both hands. “Sophie. Bella. I love you. You showing up here…” He blinks the moisture back from his eyes. “I’m glad,” he chokes. “I’m so glad.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
I pull away to look at him. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
Someone clears his throat nearby. “Mr. LaTorre? You have anything else to add to your story?” A police detective stands there with a notebook and pen.
Joey shoots a hard glance his way. “No.”
“I got one more question for you. Tell me, if Vito’s dead and your brother and Carlo don't make it, what does that make you? The new boss?”
My heart freezes. Is Joey the new boss? Wow. For one chaotic moment, I question whether I should reverse my decision again and run. But my heart has already chosen. It wants Joey. There’s no going back now.
Joey’s face is made of stone, his eyes dark as obsidian. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective.”
The detective frowns. “Yeah, I’ll bet. And I probably won’t hear about a pile of bodies turning up over in Little Italy tomorrow, right?”
“If you do” –Joey stares into the detective’s face with a direct challenge– “I won’t know anything about it.”
Cold prickles make the hairs on my arms stand up, though some other part of me triumphs at the formidable way my man takes care of business.
“Uh huh,” the detective says sarcastically and moves away.
I look up into Joey’s face, but I know better than to ask about business. Like what happened. Or whether he’s boss. If he’s ordered a hit on anyone over it.
Strain shows on his face. His gaze lifts to see Carmen, Summer, and Carlo coming from the interior of the emergency room. Joey’s mother jumps up from where she was sitting nearby.
“His skull is fractured, and there’s swelling of the brain. He’s in a coma now.” Carmen’s voice breaks with the word “coma.”
Joey opens his arms and draws his sister-in-law against his broad chest. Carmen falls apart, choking on a sob. Helpless, I turn to Donna Teresa to offer her an embrace.
“They’re doing a brain scan. I’m going to stay and wait for the results.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Joey says immediately.
“Me too,” I declare. I’m a part of this family now. I chose sides. I’m team Joey, which means la famiglia. La Cosa Nostra. Everything it is. Do I still have reservations? Yes, definitely.
But after almost losing Joey, I know sticking it out will be worth it.
When Summer says she’s staying, Carlo positions himself in the seat beside her, draping an arm around the back of her chair protectively. The rest of us take seats in the waiting room, where the drone of CNN on the television has turned the occupants into zombies.
Joey wraps an arm around my shoulders, his fingers idly stroking my hair. It feels so natural, as if we’re a long-married couple handling a family tragedy together. Even though he was a victim of this tragedy, he radiates strength, power, and calm leadership. If this were my emergency to face, rather than his, I’d want Joey LaTorre beside me.
“Thank you for coming, Soph,” Joey murmurs. “I heard what you said to my mom.” He cradles the side of my face. “I’m so lucky. I love you so much, bella.”
“I love you, too.” I lower my head to his shoulder, finding a nook to nestle it in a signal of solidarity.
I wake a half hour later to the sound of Joey’s gentle voice. “Sophie. I want you to go home, angel.”
“No. I’m staying here with you.” I glance at Carmen and his mother, who dozes slumped in her chair. Summer’s knees are drawn up to her chest, and Carlo rests his forearms on his knees. “All of you.”
“I appreciate that, but you need your rest, and there’s nothing you can do here tonight.”