Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“A bomb went off at Swank. You know, it’s poker night. A lot of our guys were there. No one knows who’s alive or dead.”
“Tony?”
“No, he wasn’t there, thank God. But Al and Joey both were.”
No. Please God, no.
I run for my shoes and purse, even as my vision momentarily goes black, and I see stars. Waiting for them to clear, I bark, “Is anyone alive? Were they taken to a hospital?”
“The ones who lived were taken to St. Michael’s.”
“Oh God,” I feel light-headed and sick. “Is Joey...?” I croak, afraid to even ask.
“I don’t know, honey.”
Okay. At least not knowing is better than hearing he’s dead.
“I’m heading over. Thanks for calling.”
I drive without seeing, saying prayers and hail Marys the whole way.
Please be alive. Please be alive.
For the baby. Our baby.
Oh God! Had I really planned on keeping this baby from their father? Never letting them know this wonderful, incredible man who had already given me so much in just a few short months?
Was I insane? How cruel and wrong of me. Now our baby may never meet their father, and I feel like I’m going to die.
Whatever our problems–my beef with the Family. My unresolved resentments. I need to put them aside. My relationship with Joey should’ve been my number one priority. My family.
Not his. That stuff could’ve been worked out. It’s easy to see that now. He was already willing to bend for me. He was already close to the same page as me. He wanted to step back. To not be the underboss. The heir apparent.
Why did I have to make a unilateral decision that only made us both miserable?
I’ve been an idiot, and now it may be too late.
Joey may have died in that explosion without me telling him that I love him. Without knowing he left behind an unborn child.
And if he’s not dead…if he’s not dead, then I have to be all in.
Joey deserves that much from me. He deserves everything from me. I’ve been letting him try to power this relationship all on his own, with no help from me. Only resistance.
I’ve been wrong. So wrong.
I somehow arrive in the hospital parking lot unscathed. I race into the emergency room entrance, scanning for familiar faces. I see Carlo coming out of the ER with a bandage taped to his forehead and Summer running to embrace him.
I spot Donna Teresa. The slender woman looks fragile now, her shoulders bent with worry. My ill will toward her dissolves as I rush over. “Joey?” I ask in a choked voice.
Somehow we end up hugging, arms tangled up in an awkward but heartfelt embrace.
“I don’t know, Sophie. Both my sons are in there,” she chokes. “We are waiting.”
“Okay,” I bob my head, forcing down my sobs. “Okay. We’ll wait together.” I take her hand and sit down in the chair with her, my knee bouncing up and down with anxiety.
I feel like I’m going to hurl. The morning sickness on top of the emotional upheaval is just too much to take.
I start talking. I need to get the words out because keeping all this in is too much for the baby. Too much for my body.
“I’m pregnant with Joey’s child,” I sniff. I ignore her intake of breath. The shocked stare. Tears start rolling down my face. “And I broke up with him because you made me feel like we couldn’t make it work.”
“Sophie…”
“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “I just need to get this out.”
She closes her mouth and nods.
“I love Joey. And I may have reservations about the Family, I may have some scars from my childhood, but none of that matters. What matters is what’s between the two of us. So if you have reservations about me, I want you to know you can let them go. I’m going to show up for Joey. I’m not going to put him between a rock and a hard place or make him choose or make his life miserable because of La Cosa.” I shake my head. “I’m not. Joey is way more important to me than recreating my past.”
“Soph?”
I whip my head around at the sound of Joey’s voice.
Oh God. There he is—alive. He has a large purple bruise on his forehead and some kind of bandage peeking beneath his collar.
I scramble out of my chair and launch myself straight at him, just barely remembering to put the brakes on before I fling myself in his arms, since I’m not sure the extent of his injuries.
“Come here, baby.” He wraps me up in his strong embrace.
“Joey! Thank God. Oh Jesus, I thought you were dead.” Tears of relief spill down my cheeks.
“No, just bruised ribs, but Al, Carlo, and Bobby are still in there. Vito and Mario are dead.” He releases me to hug his mom. “Hi, Ma. I’m okay.” He sounds tired.