“Not well enough.”
“You got him to the hospital. You called me when his life required it. That is protection.”
I wanted to believe him.
Instead, I thought of a stranger standing over Luca’s crib while we were in the emergency room.
When we returned to Luca’s bay, his fever had dropped another fraction. His small body seemed less rigid. The nurse smiled cautiously and said, “He’s responding.”
I nearly collapsed with relief.
Giovanni’s hand found the back of a chair. He gripped it hard enough for his knuckles to whiten.
Hours later, Luca opened his eyes properly.
He looked first at me.
Then, slowly, at Giovanni.
Giovanni did not move.
Luca blinked, suspicious in the solemn way babies can be suspicious of furniture, ceiling fans, and men who arrive by helicopter.
Then he made a small sound.
Not quite a cry.
Giovanni looked at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s deciding whether you are acceptable.”
“How long does that take?”
“With Luca? Depends on your references.”
For the first time that night, Giovanni smiled.
A real smile.
Small. Uncertain. Devastatingly familiar.
I hated how much I had missed it.
Luca lifted one hand weakly.
Giovanni looked to me again.
I nodded.
He offered his finger.
Luca wrapped his tiny hand around it.
Giovanni’s face changed completely.
Powerful men often looked foolish in the presence of babies. Their certainty had nowhere to stand. Giovanni stared at Luca’s fist around his finger as though he had just been handed both a crown and a sentence.
“He is very strong,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Like you.”
I looked away.
Too much.
By evening, the test results confirmed bacterial meningitis caught early enough that the doctors were cautiously optimistic. Luca would need days of treatment, monitoring, and follow-up. There could still be complications. But the immediate terror had loosened its grip.
I cried in the hallway where Luca could not hear me.
Giovanni found me there.
He did not touch me.
He leaned against the wall beside me, leaving careful space.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “When you left, I looked for you.”
“I know.”
His eyes moved to mine.
“I made sure you found enough to know I was alive and enough to think I was gone for good.”
“I thought so.”