Chapter 6
Stefan
She seemed to enjoy the grape-flavored ice pop. But what if she liked a different kind better? I opened four different kinds, just in case. I didn't give a fuck if it was wasteful. Francesca's comfort was the only important thing.
“Shit,” I said to myself as I headed to the refrigerator.
I'd almost forgotten the juice. I opened the door and stared at the five kinds of juice I'd ordered earlier.
She liked the orange juice. But wasn't apple better when you were ill?
My mother always gave us apple juice when we were sick.
That was probably why I hated it so much now.
I reached in and grabbed the apple juice.
And then I had a thought. What if Francesca's mom had given her apple juice when she was sick, too? And now she hated it as much as I did?
“Fuck,” I said, second—and third—guessing myself. I'd turned into a complete moron. Francesca seemed to have this effect on me.
Finally, I grabbed three bottles and decided to let her choose.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I set the bottles down on the counter and pulled it out. I touched the screen and held it to my ear. “Yeah,” I said into the phone.
“Our wives are having constant fits over your wife. You were supposed to update them,” my brother's voice traveled through the phone. “How is she doing?”
The sound of shuffling and talking in the background interrupted us.
“Oh. My. Gosh!” Giselle's voice shrieked from the other end of the phone. “You were supposed to call like twelve hours ago! How is my new sister-in-law?”
I smiled and searched for a few glasses. “Much better now. The doctor was here and hooked her up to some fluids.”
Giselle huffed loudly into my ear. “Oh, man. That's awful.” Her voice croaked. “I can't believe our germy kids got you guys sick for your honeymoon.” She sniffled, obviously crying. Which wasn't an odd occurrence lately.
Yes, Giselle had big feelings. But when you added in the extra hormones from being pregnant—watch out. Her moods could change on a fuckin' dime. And they often did.
“Hey, listen to me,” I said, hoping like hell she could hear me over her sobbing. “We're fine. She's perked up considerably after drinking and showering.”
There was more shuffling and talking in the background. And then Eve's voice blasted into my ear. “Why the heck didn't you call us twelve hours ago? We've been worried sick! If I were there right now, I'd kick you. I swear.”
I laughed, and put her on speaker so I could pour the juice. “She's doing well, now,” I said confidently. Because it was true. And I knew this because Francesca's smart mouth was back. And I was enjoying the fuck out of it.
“Well, thanks for not letting us know.” Yeah. Eve was mad. She'd get over it, though. Like she always did. Eve Rosetti never stayed mad long.
“I've had my hands full over here, Eve. I'm sorry for not calling.” I poured the orange juice into a glass. Just halfway, though. If Francesca drank that, then I'd get her more.
“What was that? What are you pouring?” Eve shot questions at me.
“Juice,” I said, and put the lid on the orange bottle. Then I grabbed the apple juice and opened it. The smell made me wince. But I poured it for her anyway.
“Oh, good. Did you get her ice pops? You should get her some of those, too.”
I laughed and closed the apple juice. “Already got a freezer full of them, Evie. You taught me well.”
A sigh of relief echoed through the kitchen. “You're a good man, Stefan. Have you started making pastina en brodo?” she asked in her best Italian accent. She'd been learning Italian for a while now and was improving all the time. But she wasn't the natural speaker Giselle was.
“I was just about to start when you called.” I opened the next bottle. This one was a mixed fruit juice. It smelled okay. Better than the apple juice, at least.
“That's good. Don’t forget to use a blender before you add the noodles. So her stomach doesn't have to work too hard. Oh, and don't forget the garlic. That's the most important part. Besides the pastina, of course.”
Fuck.
I loved this woman.
She and her best friend were two of the most caring people I'd ever met in my life.
“I will make sure to do all of that.”
There was more shuffling with the phone, and then I heard Eve say a muffled, “Just a minute. Let me say goodbye at least.” And then her voice came through more clearly.
“If you need any help with the soup, just call.
And please, please, please call us when Francesca's feeling better. We want to talk to her.”
I grinned and felt my eyes water at the worried tone of her voice.
“Will do. Look after the kids. And that pregnant woman beside you. Okay?”
Eve sighed. “I'm trying, Stefan. I’m really trying.” We said our goodbyes before my brother took the phone back. “Are you in a place where you can talk?” he asked. I heard the sound of footsteps through the phone.
“Yeah, give me a minute.” I grabbed the plate of popsicles and set them in the freezer. I wasn't sure how long Carlo wanted to talk. But these things might be puddles by the time I came back.
I left the juice out. A few ice cubes would save them if our conversation went long.
As I walked to my office, I tapped the screen off speaker. Whatever Carlo had to say, it was likely for my ears only. Otherwise, he wouldn't have specified.
I walked through the living room and down the hall to my office. “Okay, what's up?” I shut the doors and strode to the chair behind my desk.
“Raul is on the hunt. He's fuckin' pissed. As we suspected. Our guys have ears out there. So far, nobody suspects you've left the country. I imagine it will only be a matter of time before Raul and his idiots clue in.”
I sat down and looked out the window at the sea. I had visions of taking Francesca out sailing when she got better. And if worse came to worse, we could always disappear on the yacht for a few months. Or a few years.
“How much time do you think we've got?” I asked an impossible question. But my brain wasn't working all that well at the moment. And we both knew that. It was full of worry about Francesca. Besides, even though I didn't always get along with my brother, I respected his point of view.
“Hard to say. A few days. A few weeks. Depends on if Raul finds a shiny new toy or not.”
My jaw clenched, and I rolled my head from shoulder to shoulder, trying to relieve some of the built-up tension there. “Anything else?” I asked, eager to get back to Francesca.
“Yeah,” he said, and I braced for whatever he was going to tell me next.
“How's married life?” I could hear the smile in his voice. Asshole.
“Well, so far there's a lot more vomit in it than I imagined.”
My brother barked out a loud laugh. “We're sorry for that, man. You know kids.” He cleared his throat. “Just be grateful we haven't knocked on your door yet. Nick and I had to practically lasso these women. As soon as they found out you guys were ill, they were packed and ready to go help you.”
My jaw dropped, and I sharply said, “What?”
Carlo laughed again and explained. “Nick put his foot down. Don't worry. He informed them that a stomach virus was not a valid excuse to interrupt a honeymoon.”
I let out a weak laugh. “Thank him for me. Will you?” I loved my family.
But that didn't mean I wanted them to join my honeymoon.
I needed time alone with Francesca. The connection we'd had all those months ago was still there.
I could feel it. We just needed to strengthen our bond. Hopefully, while having a lot of sex.
“I'll do that. And you can thank him yourself by bringing that new wife of yours into the fold. I'd thank you for that as well.”
I stood and walked toward the large window. “Not sure that'll happen anytime soon, Brother.”
A long silence followed. Finally, he asked, “I take it the wedding night didn't go off without a hitch?”
I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. “More hitches than you can count. And then the stomach flu hit us.”
I heard him sigh. “Double whammy. I hear ya.
Well, you've got your work cut out for you.
But it's nothing you can't handle. I saw the way that woman looks at you.
She's in love. I've got no doubt.” Having my brother encourage me like that was exactly what I needed.
“We're all real fuckin' happy for you. And Francesca.” He cleared his throat. “Happy you finally have her back.”
I knew everything he said was the truth. “That means a lot. Thanks,” I told him because it did.
“All right. I'll let you go back to your wife. Take care, Brother.”
I shut my phone off and headed back to the kitchen. Once there, I popped some ice cubes into the glasses of juice and pulled out the plate of ice pops from the freezer. After I had everything on a tray, I walked back to my room—I mean—our room.
I smiled at that thought.
I expected to see Francesa sitting up, wondering why I'd taken so long.
Instead, I found a completely passed out woman in my bed.
Christ.
She was beautiful.
Dark—semi dry—hair strewn underneath her head covering the white pillowcase beneath her. Her beautiful face still had gray tone to it, but it was still a lot better than earlier. I never knew someone's face could be green.
I thought about waking her so she could have something to drink.
But she looked so peaceful, I hated to disturb her.
She'd been up and down so many times to the bathroom in the last two days, I'd lost count.
Resting was probably the best thing for her.
At least that was what Eve always said. Sleep was when your body healed. That I knew for sure.
I carefully set the tray on the bedside table in case she woke up soon.
What I should do—was go downstairs and start on the pastina en brodo. But what I wanted to do was crawl in beside my wife and sleep.
Yes, I'd caught the horrible stomach flu, too. But it hadn't hit me nearly as hard. A few hours of aches and pains and bathroom visits—and then I felt better.
But—I'd been up for two days looking after my very sick wife. I caught sleep in between when I could. Even so, all that broken sleep didn't add up to much.
Maybe I’d put my feet up for five minutes.
And then I'd go downstairs and start her soup.