Chapter 20 Easier
EASIER
LEO
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” my father says as he stands across from me in the waiting room.
I pace, wearing a path into the off-white linoleum. “I can’t believe they won’t let me back there.”
The nurse practically shoved me out of the emergency room, telling me they had to run tests and I should go relax in the waiting room while they evaluated Daphne and the baby.
“There was a time when they wouldn’t even allow men in the delivery room for the birth of their child. Remember?” My father asks Santino, trying to be friendlier than I’ve seen him in years.
“Life was easier then,” Santino tells him. “Much simpler.”
Besides our fathers’ small talk, the only other sound in the waiting room is the tap of my dress shoes on the tile. I cross the entire room in seven quick steps, before spinning on my heels and repeating. I can’t sit still. I can’t chitchat and talk about the good old days.
I glance at my watch, wondering what the hell is going on. It’s been an hour since they wheeled her to the back, and there’s been no news or updates as I was promised.
I walk up to the reception desk and scan the surface, looking for anything with Daphne’s name on it.
“Can I help you, sir?” the nurse asks as soon as she looks up from the computer screen.
“I’m here with Daphne Gallo. Are there any updates on her condition?”
She taps a few keys and shakes her head. “The system hasn’t been updated yet, but I’m sure a doctor will be out soon to talk to you.”
Her words don’t give me any solace. I’m not used to sitting on the sidelines, waiting for updates.
“Leo,” Mr. Gallo says as he walks out of the waiting room and comes to stand at my side. “You have to calm down. I know it’s hard.” He grabs my shoulders and stares me in the eyes. “Daphne needs you to be strong and not lose your shit. You hear me?”
I nod and clench my fists tightly at my sides. “I’ll be strong, Mr. Gallo. But until I know she’s all right, I can and will lose my shit.”
“Daphne’s a fighter,” he tells me, trying to put my mind at ease.
“Mr. Conti,” a woman says, standing in the doorway separating the emergency room from the rest of the hospital.
“Here.” I blow out a breath and walk toward her. “Can I see her now?”
She nods. “Only one person for right now, and Ms. Gallo is asking for you.”
Mr. Gallo shoos me forward. “Go. Be with her. We’ll be waiting for you. Your father and I aren’t going anywhere.”
I follow the nurse down a long corridor of what seems like endless rooms filled with moaning patients and annoying beeping monitors. “She’s resting now.” The nurse motions toward the door. “The doctor will be in soon to give you an update.”
My footsteps are quiet as I walk into the room, trying not to wake her.
Her eyes are closed, and her hands are covering her stomach in a protective way as she lies on the gurney, covered in a thin white blanket.
I slide onto the chair next to her, scared to touch her and doing my best to let her rest.
“Leo,” she whispers and moves her hand to her side. “They won’t tell me anything.”
“Shh, bella.” I grab her hand, squeezing it tightly. “The doctor’s coming.”
“What if something’s wrong?” I can hear the panic in her voice.
“Everything will be fine,” I lie because it’s easier for me to believe that everything will work out. “I know it will be.”
A doctor walks in, looking no older than a high school kid, and studies a folder of papers. “Ms. Gallo,” he says before looking up at us.
“Yes.” I answer for her.
He flips another page, drawing out the agony and oblivious to our terror. “First off, the baby’s perfectly healthy.”
I finally exhale, feeling relieved and like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. "Were you under any stress when you started cramping?”
“A little,” she says as she pulls herself upright a bit more on the gurney.
A little stress is sitting in traffic on the Kennedy when you’re late for a meeting. What just happened in my penthouse rises to the level of a red alert during the Cold War.
“You’re going to need to cut down on your stress as soon as possible. Also, add some fiber to your diet. You’re constipated, which made the cramping worse than normal.”
I laugh, covering my mouth with my free hand.
Daphne shoots me a death glare. “That’s funny?” she asks and lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha-ha. I’m constipated.”
“Bella.” I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. “I always knew you were full of shit, but now the doctor’s confirmed it.”
She swats my arm, not feeling the same sense of playful relief I am. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He closes the folder in his hands and tucks it under his arm. “Maybe take it easy for a few weeks just to be safe.”
“I’ll make sure she rests,” I tell him because I won’t allow Daphne to put her life at risk as well as our baby’s.
“The discharge nurse will be here soon.”
“Can I get dressed?” she asks before he has a chance to walk out the door.
“Yes, but get up slowly.”
Daphne blows out a breath and rolls her eyes.
I know this taking-it-easy lifestyle isn’t going to sit well with her. I’m going to have to find ways to make her relax and be creative about it. If she thinks I’m handling her in any way, I’ll be fucked.
She starts to sit up, and I grab her by the shoulders. “What are you doing?” Her eyes narrow as she glances down at my hands.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, but I don’t pull away. “I’m just helping you.”
“I’m not broken.”
I tighten my grip when she tries to push my hands away. “For the good of the baby.”
Those are the magic words because she instantly stops fighting me. “Fine,” she mutters and motions for her clothes. “Only because I don’t want anything to happen to our baby.”
As she gets dressed, I ask a passing nurse to bring our fathers in while we wait for her discharge. I know they acted nonchalant about everything, but they were worried too.
“Daphne,” Mr. Gallo says as he rushes into the room and sees Daphne standing and fully dressed. “Is everything okay?”
My father’s behind him. “Is the baby okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I tell them both, but I leave out the bit about her being constipated. “She needs to avoid stress. Today was too much for her.”
“I’m sorry,” my father says.
I raise my eyebrows because that may very well be the first time I’ve ever heard him apologize. “Both of you need to work your shit out before it affects our baby, your grandchild.” I punctuate the last word, reminding them a part of each of them is growing inside her.
“Yes. Yes. Of course,” Mr. Gallo says and glances at my father. “We talked in the waiting room. Whatever’s in the past will stay there.”
“Son.” My father puts his hand on my shoulder. “Santino is telling you the truth. We’ve buried the hatchet.”
I eye him skeptically.
“For the good of our grandchild,” he adds.
“What about Johnny?” I ask, knowing he’s taking over for Santino and there’s bound to be some carryover.
“I’ve arranged a sit-down. We’ll iron things out. The city’s big enough for all of us.”
Daphne looks at me and is just as shocked as I am that they sound like grown-ups about the entire situation. Our entire lives, we’ve listened to these two men trash-talk the other, ready to fight to the death.
Even though they’re being overly friendly, I imagine there will come a day when the competition kicks in. Whether it be Christmas or birthdays, the other isn’t going to be the cheap grandpa, giving shitty gifts. I’m fine with it. Let them spoil our baby and shower him or her with gifts.
“I’m taking Daphne away for a little while,” I say.
“You are?” Daphne glares at me. “We didn’t discuss anything, sweetheart.” She pulls a tight smile, barely moving her lips as she speaks.
“We could both use some time away.”
“I can’t leave my brothers short-handed at the bar.”
“I’ll take care of your shifts,” her father responds quickly.
Daphne’s head snaps back to him. “Papa, come on.”
He puts his hands up. “I’ll do it. I’m retired now and have extra time on my hands. Besides, I want you to make sure my grandbaby is healthy.”
“Our grandbaby,” my father corrects him as the rivalry heats up, only in a new and different way.
“I don’t know,” she says and glances at the floor.
I place my fingers under her chin, bringing her eyes to mine. “They can handle it.”
“Okay,” she whispers, finally giving in.