Chapter 143
Chapter 143
One week later, Sutton was losing her damn mind.
“How are you doing today, Miss Warner?” the nurse chirped as she passed by.
“Still trapped in this hospital, no offense,” Sutton muttered with a smile that was at least 20% sincere. “But thank you for asking. Do we know when the doctor is likely to release me?”
The nurse chuckled. “Bedrest’s been lifted. That counts as parole. The doctor should be around at 11am or so.”
“No,” Sutton called after her softly. “Parole at least means you get to go home.” 11am or so could mean more like 1 or 2pm. One thing Sutton had found out since being here, doctors had their own timetable.
In truth, things were improving.
Her pain had eased, the bruising was fading, and though her energy wasn’t all there yet… she could stand. Walk without help. Use the bathroom without help, praising whatever gods saw fit to deliver small mercies. They hadn’t needed to take her stitches out because the doctor had used dissolvable ones that take from three to six weeks to disappear completely. Sutton had been surprised at how small the cut had been along her bikini line. Not that she cared… because that cut was the reason her son was alive.
The great thing about being more mobile, she’d been allowed to spend more time with Miles.
Holding and feeding him or, more accurately, kangaroo cuddling while skilled NICU nurses handled the feeding part. But still. She’d felt his breath warm against her chest. Seen those tiny fingers curl around hers with quiet, confident strength. He was doing so well. Which helped her feel better.
Luca had been with her almost every day. Every slow walk to and from the NICU. Every pumped bottle. Every late–night check–in with the nurses. But this morning, he’d had a meeting he couldn’t get out of–a massive product presentation to Cyber10’s top clients.
To showcase Sutton’s virus protection program. Her fingerprints were in every line of that code.
He’d asked if she’d wanted to join remotely. She’d said no. She was happy to let him handle it. It’s what he did so well. It was more his world, anyway. She preferred being under the radar. Coding behind the scenes.
After an hour with Miles, her legs were stiff and her back tight, but she wasn’t ready to crawl back into another white–sheeted bed. So once she got back to her ward, she walked.
Her first real walk in a week. Slow. Careful. But upright. With one hand on the cool railing that ran along the ward’s long hallway, the other resting on the side of her belly, now soft where it once held her son, that absence still strange and tender.
She moved past the family waiting area near the elevators, then into the wide corridor that overlooked the small rooftop healing garden.
As she turned the corner, she spotted an older man fumbling with something on the floor near the bench closest to the window.
His gray cane had fallen. He was trying to lower himself without tipping over; the look on his face was determined but exhausted.
Sutton didn’t hesitate.
“Whoa there,” she said gently, crossing to him without even thinking. “Don’t make me call a nurse.”
The man looked up, startled, Thick silver hair, well–kept. Italian maybe, by the slope of his brow and the tan undertone to sharp, but his eyes were kind.
- n. His expression was
“I’m fine,” he grunted, clearly not fine.
“You will be when you’re seated and no longer defying gravity,” Sutton replied, squatting carefully because of her own aches and picking up the cane. “Ease down, not forward. You are less likely to fall on your face. Or better yet, call for help next time.”
He gave a gruff chuckle. “Bossy.”
“Now come on, sit on the bench and rest a minute.”
He followed her instructions, settling onto the bench with a long exhale. Sutton was
still worried about him. He was still a little out of breath
“Grazie, signorina,” he said. Slight accent. Warm voice. Deep.
Proving to her he was indeed Italian, like Luca.
She smiled, passing him the cane and sitting cautiously beside him with a hand on her lower back. “You’re welcome. And since I just politely risked
names.” bruising my own tailbone for you, I think we can upgrade to first
The man blinked. “Nick.”
“I’m Sutton, Nick. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m
For a second, his eyes flickered. There was a glint of hesitation, but then he said, “Heart surgery. Round two.”
Sutton winced. “Yikes.”
He nodded. “Too many years, too much salt, not enough walking. Plus, Twas a smoker. The math eventually caught up.”
“How long ago was the surgery?”
“About seven days.”
“So, has your bed rest been lifted as well?”
“You’re a noisy little thing, aren’t you?”
Sutton laughed, smiling at him. He reminded her of Luca. “No, just making sure I don’t get sued for not stopping you when I had the chance.”
“I was trying to walk a little today,” he said, then gestured to the cane. “That was me trying. Which I believe you just deemed defying gravity.”
“You shouldn’t be doing it alone. You don’t have anyone to help you?”
He laughed again, not loudly, but wholly. Something about her amused him rently.
“And you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing gently in the
the nurses told you?”
Sutton shifted. “Both.”
way
der people do when measuring the truth. “Are you walking because you want to? Or because
“Ah. The best kind of disobedient.”
They sat for a moment.
Sutton noticed his fingers–thick, strong, the kind of hands that once worked hard but had softened with time, His left wrist was still bandaged, clearly holding an IV port under the gauze.
“I have to say, you have a stubborn–patriarch vibe.”
“A compliment?” he asked slyly.”
“A warning.”
He laughed again.
“Do you have family here with you?”
