Page 240 of Caterina
Caterina’s expression changes, as if she can see the thought passing through me.
“There’s time for work later,” she says gently. “Right now, you need to heal. For real this time. Not like the bullet.”
I would argue if my throat worked.
She reaches for a cup on the side table, then pauses and presses the call button first. “The nurse said if you woke, I need to call them before giving you anything.”
Of course, she follows the nurse’s instructions when she ignores mine whenever it suits her.
My mouth tries to curve, but it hurts. Probably more like a grimace.
She sees it anyway.
A small laugh escapes her, half sob. “Do not smile at me like that. I have spent almost five days thinking you might die, and if you start being charming now, I may hit you.”
I try to speak, and it comes out as a rasp.
She leans closer despite herself. “What?”
I force the words out.
“Missed… me?”
Her face changes.
For one second, she looks like she might laugh.
Then she cries instead.
She bends over my hand and presses it to her forehead, shoulders shaking.
My chest goes tight.
I hate this.
I hate that I am too weak to sit up, too weak to pull her into my arms, too weak to do anything but lie here and watch her break because I made a promise and almost failed to keep it.
I move my fingers again.
She lifts her head, wiping her face with one hand.
“You are not allowed to joke yet,” she says. “There are rules.”
I breathe carefully.
“Yours?”
“Yes. Mine. And the doctors’. And Teresa’s. And Papà’s. Basically, everyone has rules for you now.”
That sounds like hell.
I let my eyes close for one second.
When I open them, panic flashes across her face.
“I’m here,” I manage.
Her lips part.
