Page 29 of Cara

“Xavier, her lips are blue. She’s wheezing!”

“Dario called the hospital,” I say as Caesar hands her to me. Even through the puffer suit she’s wearing, Ican feel the warmth of her fever. “I’ll call the city to send someone to clear the street. You come when it’s done.”

“Thank you, Don. We owe you.”

As I walk off, his gratitude lingers.We owe you.

Glancing down at her rosy cheeks and red eyelashes, I have to ignore how that comment grates me. My lungs are burning by the time I reach the car, relieved I can still open the door.

Shit. There’s no car seat. With no choice, I place her in the front, buckling her in. The car screeches in reverse as a call comes through the dashboard. “Yes?”

“It’s prepared. Go through the east entrance. There will be a door by the parking lot you can enter through undetected. I’ve already got someone blocking the cameras. Carlo is the closest to the Bronx. I’ve told him he’s covering you.”

“Thanks, Dario.”

“Don’t mention it. I hope everything’s okay.”

Glancing down at the child beside me, I nod, hearing unusual fear in my voice. “Me too.”

Isabella’s eyes drag open drowsily. The green in them is the same shade as mine. Our likeness hits me in a rush. She looks just like me. She has her mother’s hair and paleness, but my eyes. Despite her vibrant hair, she has the features of an Italian.

“Daddy,” she croaks.

My heart, itexpands. I don’t remember the last time I felt relief like this. I gently slip my hand around hers, careful of the IVs. “I'm here.”

“C…cold.”

“You have a fever. The doctors are taking care of you.” She glances around, looking for her parents. I breathe in, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Cold, Daddy.”

She lacks the strength to squeeze my hand. Her wiggling fingers are the only sign she’s trying.

I slide next to her, offering the side of my body.

Without moving, she drops her head onto my shirt. As time passes, my eyes remain on the downpour beyond the windows, stuck on the multi-colored Christmas lights strung up around the hospital. Every so often, Carlo glances into the room. He’s new, but he should keep this to himself. I’ll have to make sure of it.

Isabella curls into my side, winding her arm around mine, digging her tiny face into my sweater. Holding my breath, I rest my hand against her forehead, relaxing when it’s cooler than before. My fingers lightly swipe away the wet hair clinging to her face.

Mychild. It’s not often I allow myself to think that.

The door bursts open, and Rosa dives for the bed, with Caesar right behind her. I slip out of Isabella’s tight grip, letting them claim her. Rosa plants kisses on her face, waking her. “Oh, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Caesar strides over and clasps my hand. “Thank you, Don Marcello.”

“Xavier,” I insist. “And there’s no thanks necessary.”

He reels from that, but seems eager to embrace the informality. “I don’t even wanna imagine how bad this could have been. Pneumonia is so scary at her age.”

I nod, my mind totally on Isabella and her mom, not sure whether I should stay or leave.

Her parents are here. Go.

When I reach the door, I hear a small voice.

“Daddy.”

When I turn, I do so knowing she’s looking at Caesar. It stuns me that she’s not.