Bianca
My eyes blink. I can control that motion. I open them and shut them quickly because the light hurts. I cough and holy shit that hurts. Immediately the chatter I heard in the background halts. “Binks,” I hear four different voices, and they aren’t a fucking melody. My ears scream in pain like donkeys are kicking them.
“Beautiful.” Now that’s a fucking lullaby. I think I smile, but I could just look like a scary clown in a haunted house. “Can you open your eyes?”
I nod, sending sharp pains to my temple. Another voice breaks through. “Ms. Agosto raise one finger for yes and two for no. Do you understand?”
I raise a finger.
“Can you open your eyes?”
One finger.
“We’re waiting.”
Two fingers.
“Are you in pain?”
One finger.
“Turn the lights down. Is that the problem?”
One finger.
“Lights are dimmed, sweetie. Now open those eyes.”
I blink a few times, my eyes dry. The lady talking puts a wet cloth over them, allowing moisture to soak them, and it’s instant relief. “Now can you talk?”
I shrug and wince in pain. “No sudden movements; you’ve been through a lot.”
“What?” I whisper and start choking, on what, I have no idea, because my mouth is dry.
She holds a straw up to my mouth. “Sip, slowly.”
It feels good but burns like hell. “Ouch.”
“You had a tube down your throat to help you breathe. I’m sure it’s still raw.”
“And dry.” Speaking was easier this time.
“Look around the room and tell me if you recognize everyone.”
I scan the room and see my family, Dakota and Lisa, and then my eyes settle on Heath. He still holds my hand, so I squeeze. I look at the nurse and hold up two fingers.
“Who don’t you know, honey?”
I look to Bronson and hold up one finger . . . the middle finger.
“Pain in my ass.” He laughs.
“She’s back!” Callie cheers.
The nurse is looking skeptical, so I manage to say, “I’m kidding that’s my brother. It’s kind of a thing with us to mess with each other.”
“No, it’s just her thing. She drags my wife into it, but it definitely isn’t my thing.”
Heath bends down. “You doing okay?”
“Besides feeling like a cat shit in my mouth, I’m peachy.” His light chuckle rumbles through his chest and jars me a bit. I gasp because it fucking hurts to move.
“Can she have something for pain?” He’s watching my every movement.
“As soon as we finish assessing her. She’s been out for four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” I choke.
“Yes ma’am. When the doctors come in, they can explain it all to you.” She makes notes, checks every machine in the room, and when two doctors arrive, they ask everyone else to leave.
After they explain the extent of my injuries, I’m reeling. A tube to drain the fluid relieved the swelling on my brain, and that was called that lucky. All my other organs were fine. I had bruises and scrapes, but otherwise I would heal. No sudden movements, no standing without assistance until physical therapy could assess me, but they were transferring me to a normal floor. The hospital said my family was a disturbance.
Both of them left, promising to return tomorrow, and having ordered medicine to ease the pain. As soon as the door shuts behind them, it reopens, and everyone comes back in. Callie hands me a travel size Listerine, and if the fuzz on my teeth would have allowed it, I’d kiss her, but it feels so thick I don’t think I could pucker right now. “Thanks.”
The nurse grabs my hand and pushes some kind of medicine in through the IV; within seconds I’m floating. I can barely keep my eyes open, and they all notice. Dakota and Lisa step up first, tell me goodbye. My mom is next, and her weepy eyes and huge smile warm me. Callie and Bronson hug me gently and promise me they’ll be back shortly. Heath makes no move to leave.
“I can’t kiss you until I gargle with this.” I hold up the mouthwash.
“That’s okay, baby. I’ve kissed those lips everyday.”
“You might have a bacterial infection. At least you’re in the right place.”
“God, I’ve missed that smart mouth. I was so scared.”
“I’m fine.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Higher than a giraffe’s pussy. Amazing.”
His laughter is boisterous, filling the room just as our love fills each other. “Get some sleep, I’ll be right here.”
“Love you.”
“Amarti.” His love whispered in Italian is the last thing I hear as sleep claims me.
I awaken, and he’s in the same position, holding my hand, watching me. “You need to sleep sometime.”
“I will. I’ve watched you everyday. Make sure you’re breathing.”
“I promise you I’m fine. It hurts when I move but come on, no car is a match for me.”
“Don’t.” His voice wavers, and I see the tears in his eyes.
“Hey, I was kidding.”
“I know but too soon. I watched the whole thing happen. I thought you died later that night. The nurses and doctors came in and took you from Callie and me. Machines were going crazy…nobody could tell us anything. I was so scared.”
“It’s fine. You’re here, I’m healing.”
“I’m so sorry for ever leaving. I was an ass, insecure.”
“I agree, but I knew that. I knew you’d come back. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m good now. I talked it out.”
“With who?”
He chuckles. “Dakota and Lisa.”
“Hell has frozen over.”
“I’m not ready for football and beers with him, but maybe one day.”
“So we aren’t naming our son after him.”
“Don’t push it.” We get lost in each other’s eyes, promises spoken with no words. He lays his head down on the side of my bed, and I rub my fingers through his hair as he falls asleep. I follow.
No residual side effects of my injury, except the bald spot on the back of my head. I’m lucky, but that doesn’t look cute in a ponytail. I can pull hair over it, but it sucks when I forget it’s there and untangle my hair harshly.
“You ready?” Heath shouts from the other room.
“Yes, dear.” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I didn’t want to go with Callie today. They planned a spa day for my birthday, but our last spa day didn’t turn out so well. In the end it did, but that day wasn’t one I want to revisit.
“What was that?”
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Better.”
“Listen asshole.” I come down the hallway. “I have three speeds; start, stop, and don’t push it. Right now you are pushing it.”
“I know.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
“Suck up.”
“Sucker.”
“Not if you keep pissing me off.”
“How are you feeling?”
I roll my eyes. It’s a bad habit that I’m not really trying to break, I just tell them that to shut them up. “Heath, darling, it’s been four months. I’m good.”
“Bianca, sweetheart, humor me.”
“Like the way you do me every time you drop your pants?”
“You’ll pay for that tonight.”
“Insult his manhood and panties get in a twist,” I tease.
Saved by the knock. Callie walks in and trips over the box in the hallway. “Grace isn’t your middle name.”
“Nope, but bitch is yours.”
“Actually, it’s Rose because I’m like a flower . . . I keep blooming over and over.”
“And you have thorns that draw blood.”
“Semantics.”
“Okay you two, where are you going?”
“Swanky.” I wink at her. “Will they let riff-raff like us in there?”
“Only if you don’t open your mouth.”
“Heath, you hear that? She’s trying to ruin your fun later.”
“Bianca, Bronson did this thing the other night where he swiveled his hips . . .”
“You win!” I screech while covering my ears.
“Exactly.”
“You going to order the floor today?” I ask Heath. We’re building a house next to Callie and Bronson’s and finally agreed on flooring.
“On the way to watch the game.”
“You mean en route to your dick date?” He, Bronson, and Dakota were hanging out at the bar watching some sporting thing.
He glances at Callie and begs, “Take her now, please.”
“Kiss me,” I demand.
“Sassy mouth.” He takes my mouth hard; it quickly turns heated. A thud followed by cursing ends it. I glance at Callie who is on the floor sprawled over the same box she tripped on entering.
“For fuck’s sake, Bianca, move the boxes before I break my neck.” She’s more embarrassed than mad.
“One. You owe Angelo some dough for that word. Two. I’m packing; there are boxes. Three. In case you missed it the first time you tripped over it, let me help you out. It’s big. It’s square. It’s fucking brown. You avoid it.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I don’t owe Angelo shit. He didn’t hear it, so it doesn’t count.”
“You had to get another jar didn’t you?”
“I don’t have to worry about his inheritance. He’s taking everything before I die.”
“GO!” Heath is getting testy with our shenanigans.
“Love you.”
“Love you, beautiful. See you later.”
“Y’all are so cute,” Callie sings at me.
“Save the lyrics for Lyns.”
I’m relaxed, buffed, and rubbed to a shine. “Let’s get a drink,” Callie suggests as we’re leaving the spa area of the hotel.
“Shouldn’t you be pregnant again? Angelo is almost four.”
“Shut your mouth. I swear you sound just like your brother.”
“Blah blah blah.”
“Shouldn’t you be pregnant?”
I smile sweetly at her, “I’m the good Catholic. I’ll be married before I’m with child.”
“You have to have a ring to get married.” Her smile is just as sweet as mine.
“Touché,” I murmur.
“Still no idea when it’s happening?”
“No. We’re building a house, I dragged him around shopping, left bridal magazines, cut out pictures of rings I want. Not a fucking word.”
“It will happen.” She pats my shoulder.
“Don’t pat me like I’m a dog. Maybe I should cut him off?”
“No. You’d be even less of a delight to be around. I’d need therapy.”
“I’m sure Doc could see you.”
“Are you still seeing him?”
“No. I sent him a bill the other day but no response.”
“A bill?”
“Yes. For the services he didn’t provide. He should compensate me for my time.”
“You’re absolutely delusional.”
“Hey, I was a good friend. I tried to get you one of his diplomas, but he wouldn’t budge. Dude has seven of those things, but after two years with him I’m pretty sure four of them are fake.”
“Are you sure he released you?”
“I wasn’t in prison.”
“From care dipshit. He actually said the words ‘you don’t need to come back here’?”
“Quite clearly.”
“Makes sense.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” We find a table in the back and place our drink orders.
The pianist starts playing, and I didn’t realize it was already seven. “Shit, I need to call Heath. I don’t think he expected me to be this late.”
“Please, if Bronson hasn’t barged in and hauled me away, you know they’re fine.”
“True.” I hit send on my phone. “But when I send him the picture of your male masseuse, he will be here in ten minutes.”
“What? I had a woman, her name was Carla.”
I flip my phone around, “No, according to my text, this was your massage therapist.”
“That’s fucking Channing Tatum in scrubs.”
“Bronson has no clue who Channing Tatum is. Truth is in the eye of the beholder.”
“You’re seriously fucked up. Damn it, Bianca.” She can’t help but laugh and set the stopwatch on her phone. “I don’t give him ten minutes.”
“Fifty?” I know there is always traffic, and if he’s been drinking, he has to find a cab.
“Hundred.” She’s sure of herself.
“Deal.” We shake.
Seven minutes later she’s holding out her hand, and I’m pissed. Lisa, Lynsey, Dakota, Bronson, and Heath come strolling in. “You planned this,” I accuse her.
“No baby, I did.” Heath stands beside me.
“What?”
He drops to one knee and takes my face in his hands. His eyes bore into mine. “Bianca Rose Agosto, will you marry me?”
I’m speechless. For the first time ever. I look around and take everyone’s faces in. Smiles, tears, laughter . . . love.
“Beautiful, you didn’t answer me.” He places the ring over my finger and pauses.
“Does a hobby horse have a wooden dick?”
He slides the ring on. “A simple yes would have been sufficient.”
“Yes.”
Drinks are poured, and laughter is abundant. “Did she seriously ask you if a hobby horse had a wooden dick?” Bronson is choking back laughter.
“She did.” He shakes his head and kisses my lips.
“Oh, I’m telling Mom.” Bronson is too excited.
“Are you twelve?” I’m just mad he’s catching a clue and using my line.
“You use that shit on me all the time.”
“You tell her, and I’ll remind her of that night she suspected Callie and you were having sex in their house, and I covered for you.”
“That never happened.” Callie is mortified.
“She’s old. Her memory isn’t what it used to be. A couple glasses of wine, power of persuasion, and I’ll have her convinced that was the night Angelo was conceived.”
“You win . . .” Bronson mumbles as he pouts. That’s what I thought, brother dear.
The months leading up to the wedding have taken over my life. Heath and my mom decided it would be a church wedding, and with the guest list, the colossal church they picked may be large enough to hold everyone. Don’t get me wrong . . . it’s beautiful but too much for me.
My mom decided it was time to sell the house in Indian Harbor, and it’s been bittersweet to say the least. I see my dad in every corner. Silent, sitting back, watching his family. His presence fills every nook and cranny of this house, and I don’t want to say goodbye.
“Figlia.” My mom cradles my face. “It’s just brick and mortar. The memories…they are here,” she taps my head, “and here.” She places one hand over my heart. “Those never leave you, but it’s time to let this go.”
“I’ve done a lot of letting go this past year.”
“You have, and I’ve never been happier. You’ve grown and forgiven yourself. Now it’s time to make memories in your house, with your kids, so one day they will look back and feel like you do.”
“Like shit?”
“Bianca, mouth. Do you really feel like that? I look around and see happiness. Feel love.”
“Do you miss him still?”
“Ogni giorno. I wake up still expecting to see him next to me. Nights are the hardest. There were very few nights when he wasn’t here to tuck you kids in and share our bed.”
Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 Page 19