“Yes, Doctor.”
She watches him turn the volume down on the music before he leaves the room.
Lindsay sighs and waits patiently, holding the towel with firm but gentle pressure just the way he showed her. Her finger not only hurts but is throbbing. “Porca Miseria,” she mutters.
When he returns, she suddenly remembers how she left the frying pan on the stove turned on. “Oh, shit!” She starts to sit up.
“Hey, lie down.” He comes over, carrying his bag and some clean towels. “What are you doing? Just take it easy.”
“I left the frying pan on.”
“Don’t worry, I already took care of it.”
“Oh? That’s good.” In truth, she did feel a little woozy when she tried to get up, though it’s mostly because she looked down and saw the blood from her finger soaked into the cotton.
He places a brown leather doctor’s bag on the floor. It’s beat up, and she recognizes it from when they flew into Seattle. He scoots the coffee table over, arranges some things, and then moves one of the sections from the couch close to her, so he’s sitting beside her.
“All right, let’s see that finger again.”
Lindsay gives him her left hand with the cut middle finger on it and tries not to look as he unwraps it. She hisses. Giovanni has set up some of the things he’ll need on the table, and soon she feels him gently cleaning her wound.
“It hurts,” she tells him. “It’s throbbing.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’m going to numb it for you in a second.”
“What?” Her eyes grow wide, staring at him. “Numb it for me how?”
“With lidocaine.”
“Like a shot?” She moans with outrage that this is happening to her. She kicks her legs around. “I don’t want a shot! I fucking hate shots.”
“You’re going to be fine, but you need to stay still. Would you like a comic book to look at?”
“How about some vodka? Do you have any vodka in that doctor’s bag of yours?”
He chuckles. “I can’t say that I do.”
She snorts. “Not much use then, is it?” Finally, she agrees to the comic book, and he hands her an issue of something called Laser Man. “What the hell is this? Don’t you have any Thor?”
“No, how about Spiderman?”
“Forget it. Unless it’s Thor, I don’t give a shit.”
She whimpers and wails when he gives her the shot in her finger, letting loose with a stream of curse words. She then pouts as she tries to manage the stupid comic book with one hand, waiting for the numbing agent to kick in. They spend the next fifteen minutes with Giovanni tending to her wound, admonishing her to stay still. Despite her bad behavior, he’s gentle and patient with her—not that this stops her from complaining endlessly.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she tells him. “I don’t want to end up with some kind of fucked-up mutant lizard finger.”
His eyes flash to hers, and they’re filled with humor. “Christ, Lindsay, I’m a plastic surgeon.”
“So what? You could still give me a fucked-up lizard finger! In fact, shouldn’t you have laid me down on the dining room table? Wouldn’t that be more like what you’re used to?”
He keeps his eyes focused on her hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Like for surgery! So you can stand next to me. For fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t have to tell you that!”
“I don’t necessarily stand when I’m in the OR. It depends on the procedure, but often I’m sitting.”
“You are?” Her brows shoot up with surprise. This was new information. She’s always imagined him standing next to a table with a bunch of bright lights shining from above.
He tilts his head as he examines her finger. There’s a gentle tugging sensation, but that’s all since it’s completely numb otherwise. “For the more delicate surgeries I perform, I’m always sitting,” he explains. “It’s easier to focus.”
Lindsay watches his handsome face as he tends to her wound. For the first time, what he actually does sinks in, and it takes her breath away. Giovanni repairs the faces of children. Of beautiful little babies. It’s incredible.
“What’s it like?” she asks, overwhelmed with awe. “To do what you do.”
“I love my work. It’s a privilege, and one I never take for granted.”
“What if you make a mistake, though? Does that ever happen?”
He shakes his head. “No.” She feels mild pressure on her finger. “There’s no room for mistakes in my life.”
“How’s that possible? It sounds too stressful.”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it. That’s why I don’t like surprises. I prefer to have a plan before I begin anything.”
She wonders where she fits into all this. Their relationship was hardly planned. She suspects it’s been as much of a surprise for him as it has been for her.
“I guess that explains why you’re such a control freak,” she mutters.
“Probably.”
“You can’t control everything though.”
“No,” he agrees, then glances up at her with a wry smile. “You certainly can’t.”
She wants to ask him more questions but doesn’t get the chance.
“Okay, I’m finished here,” he says in an officious tone. She feels light pressure again and can tell he’s wiping her finger with something. “I don’t have a splint with me, but I’ll grab one for you at the hospital tomorrow. Try not to bend the finger. And don’t get it wet.”
“Can I see?” Lindsay looks over at her hand.
“I haven’t bandaged it yet.”
“It’s okay. I think I can handle it, as long as it’s not bleeding.”
He lets her take her hand back, and she examines the perfect row of small stitches he’s put in for her. Four in all. “I guess it’s all right. Though it does look mutant.”
“Here.” He holds his hand out for hers. “Let me bandage it for you.”
She sighs and doesn’t say anything more as he finishes up. She knows she’s acting horribly.
Later, when he’s all done with her and has cleaned up, he comes back over to where she’s still lying on the couch with a pillow tucked under both her head and hand. She scoots back to make room for him so he can sit next to her.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she says, feeling embarrassed about how awful she’s been behaving. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you.”
Giovanni reaches down and strokes her hair with affection. “What an unpleasant patient you are.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Exceptionally unpleasant, even.”
“I try to be exceptional in everything I do.”
He chuckles and lets his hand slip beneath her hair, so he’s rubbing the back of her neck. It feels so good, her eyes drift shut.
“It’s okay, I’m a terrible patient too,” he admits.
“Are you?” She opens her eyes.
He gives her a pointed look. “What do you think?”
She laughs. “I think you’re probably worse than I am.”
Giovanni fries up the burgers and assembles them following Lindsay’s instructions. He’s never been much of a cook but has always wanted to learn. With the exception of the most rudimentary dishes, he’s never really had much opportunity.
Maybe that will change now.
Moving into this house with the knowledge that he’ll be staying put in one place for a while has been a revelation for him. He didn’t realize just how ready he was to stop living like a ‘vagabond,’ as Lindsay so aptly put it.
And, of course, she’s been the biggest revelation of all. He never thought he’d get to this point with a woman. Deep down, he worried Olivia had destroyed something within him, something fundamental.
But it turns out that isn’t true.
For the first time in a long time, he’s seeing possibilities for his future. In fact, his life has become all about possibilities.
T
hey decide to eat dinner on the large couch in the living room. Lindsay has her plate balanced on her lap with a pillow. Her brown eyes wander over and catch hold of his. They do this a lot, and every time he can’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
“Would you mind adding more pepper to my salad, please?” she asks.
“Sure.” He reaches for the mill and grinds more for her since she can’t do it with her injured hand. The pepper mill is a black king of spades and has a matching queen for salt. They’re hand-carved by an artist she knows. It’s just one of the many little touches she’s added that’s been turning this into a home. She recently put a doormat out front that says, ‘Actually, there is a doctor in the house,’ and he laughed with approval when he saw it. He’s probably laughed more with her than he has with anyone his entire life.
“Thank you, Olaf.” She bats her lashes at him and then prongs some lettuce with her fork.
He enjoys watching her eat. Lindsay is a sensualist, and he takes pleasure in all the little things that seem to delight her.
Of course, she can be headstrong at times too. Temperamental, even. She always speaks her mind—occasionally to a fault. She’s not a planner like he is and seems allergic to even the idea of a schedule. She’s bold—especially in bed, not that he’s complaining about that.
Most of all, though, Lindsay has become the sun, bright and lovely, bringing him out from the shadows, from that steel prison where he’s been living far too long. Every day he’s more grateful than the one before that she’s come into his life.
Thank God.
He only wishes now he’d seen it when they first met years ago, but he remembers how even then there was a spark of something between them.
I just wasn’t ready for her yet.
Despite her sometimes irreverent exterior, he’s noticed something else about her. She’s soft-hearted beneath that outer toughness. Kind and surprisingly thoughtful. She tries to hide it, and he suspects she worries it makes her appear weak, though nothing could be further from the truth.
He can’t believe he ever thought she was anything like Olivia. From the outside, Olivia was also beautiful and passionate, but inside she was cold and ultimately self-serving. Just the opposite of Lindsay. If only he’d understood that sooner, but then he was too young to really see it.
More and more, he’s grown to love Lindsay’s unusual slant on the world. She doesn’t see things in black or white, or even in shades of gray. She sees them in color. Vivid color. Just like the walls she’s painted and the flowers she’s planted around the house.
“How’s your finger?” he asks. “Do you want something for the pain?”
She shrugs. “It’s okay.” And then she gives him a wicked grin. “I know something that might help me later though.”
“Sexual healing?”
“With strawberries and whipped cream, if you please.”
Giovanni chuckles a little, puts his empty plate on the coffee table, and shifts position so he can lie back on the couch and be closer to her.
He rests his hand on her thigh then slides it down to her knee and back up. Whenever he’s near Lindsay, he can’t stop touching her. “Do you want me to cancel your origami class at the hospital?”
“I don’t think so.” She appears to consider it as she studies her bandaged finger. The class is scheduled a few days from now. “I mean, it’s the middle finger on my left hand, so it should be okay. Plus, I would hate to disappoint any of the kids.”
He nods, not surprised she doesn’t want to cancel. “Oh, and by the way, I saw my credit card statement recently.”
She sticks her fork into a cherry tomato on her plate and looks at him questioningly.
“From that card I left you in Berlin?”
Her eyes widen for a microsecond, but then she shrugs and opens her mouth to eat the tomato. “What about it?”
“You donated a thousand dollars to UNICEF?”
She continues to eat her salad. “I was pissed at you for abandoning me in that hotel room. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful for what?”
“Grateful I didn’t buy the mink coat and diamond ring I had my eye on.”
Giovanni doesn’t say anything. For some reason, his own eyes flash to the plain gold wedding band she’s wearing, and he feels a peculiar embarrassment. If he could do it over again, he knows he’d buy her something with far more panache.
She smirks. “So you see? You actually got off cheap. Plus, it’s for a good cause.”
What in the hell is he supposed to say to that?
“Maybe you’d like to send them my paycheck too,” he mutters, though in truth he doesn’t really care. He regrets abandoning her after that night in Berlin. It pains him to even think of her waking up alone in a hotel like that now.
“You pull that shit on me again and I just might.”
His hand is still on her thigh, and he gently squeezes it. “That won’t ever happen again. I promise.”
She blinks and considers him for a long moment. “It better not.”
A few days later, Giovanni spends his morning in the OR repairing a cleft lip on a three-month-old. The surgery goes smoothly, and after speaking with the parents in the recovery room, reassuring them both and explaining some of the post-operative care, he checks the time. He realizes Lindsay is probably still at the hospital teaching her origami class and decides to stop by and say hello.
Not bothering to change out of his scrubs, he finds the classroom and sneaks in the back, nodding a greeting to some of the parents who are there along with a couple of the nurses.
The kids are all sitting at a table as Lindsay goes around to each one, helping them. He sees a number of colorful origami animals and stars that they’ve already made spread over the center.
She doesn’t see him yet, and for a long moment, he simply stands there watching her, enjoying the sight. Her hair is pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a long blue skirt and a short-sleeved T-shirt, along with a colorful beaded necklace. As always, she looks lovely, and he enjoys seeing her as an outsider, as others do.
Beautiful and vivacious.
When he initially asked her if she wanted to teach this class, he worried for a second whether she could handle dealing with children who were ill, since it can be difficult for some people. But in the end, he decided she’d be fine.
And he sees now how correct he was. She’s completely at ease, and obviously having a great time as she teaches the kids in that unflappable way of hers.
Eventually, she looks up and notices him. “Hey, what are you doing here?” She smiles, her eyes taking in his scrubs.
“I had a moment and just thought I’d stop by.”
“That was nice of you.” She turns to everyone in the small group. “This is my husband, Giovanni, or Dr. Novello.”
He nods and murmurs “Hello” to everyone, and they all return the greeting. Inside, he’s stunned. He’s never heard Lindsay refer to him as her husband before, and he has to admit he liked the sound of it.
She takes in his scrubs again. “I’ve never seen you . . . dressed like this.”
“I’ve been in surgery all morning.”
Her eyes still linger on him, but then she turns to the kids. “He’s the one who repaired my Godzilla finger.” She holds up her bandaged middle finger, which now has a splint on it, and has apparently been under discussion.
“Did it hurt when he fixed it?” one of the kids asks.
“A little,” Lindsay admits. “But I’ve discovered a silver lining to having this Godzilla finger.”
“What’s that?” another child wants to know.
“It’s easier to flip people off in traffic when they’re driving like jerks.” Lindsay’s brows go up as she realizes what she’s just said.
Though everyone in the room laughs, including the kids.
“I think I could use one of those,” one of the nurses comments, and there are
nods of agreement.
Lindsay meets his eyes. He’s still chuckling because he knows firsthand that she drives like she’s being chased by terrorists.
“I’m glad it’s come in handy,” he says in a dry tone. “You might as well make the most of it.”
One of the kids asks her a question about the origami elephant he’s making, and she goes over to help. Giovanni stays and watches for a moment longer, only because he can’t pull his eyes away. In truth, he’s completely mesmerized by her and he’s certain the whole room can see it, not that it matters.
She’s my wife, after all.
He leaves the classroom and, after checking on his patient from this morning and a couple of others, he grabs a sandwich and a bottle of water from the lunch room. While he’s eating, he gets his phone out and surfs the Web for a few minutes, reading more about fruit trees and how to care for them.
On a whim, he thumbs in a name he’s been meaning to look up for a while, and that’s when he discovers something that takes him completely by surprise.
Lindsay, it turns out, has her own Wikipedia page.
Giovanni doesn’t get home until late. Lindsay is in bed, sipping a glass of wine and reading through her e-mails, when she hears the front door. There’s still no word on whether the gallery in San Francisco has sold her mask yet. No word from Dagmar about her money either.
I need to do something soon.
Mostly though, she needs to get back to work. She opened her studio the other day but hasn’t started any projects yet. School will be starting in a few weeks. If only she had a bankroll she could at least earn some money playing poker. When Giovanni comes into the bedroom, he looks exhausted.
“I thought you’d be home hours ago,” she says. “Do you want me to heat up some food for you?”
He sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks his shoes off. “They needed me in the ER. A dog bite came in—a bad one.” He flops down on his back and closes his eyes. “The little boy’s going to be okay, though.”
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 26