Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“I mean, the procedure didn’t work. It’s rare, but it happens. The vasectomy will need to be performed again and in eight to twelve weeks, we’ll check again.”
Jesus.
Holy mother of sweet hell.
He knew better—he did.
Condoms should have been used while he waited between the first procedure and the checkup, but Gio had never been very damn good at following the rules for anything.
All he could think was that there was a possibility Kim would have to go through months of hell again if his fuck up ended up in another pregnancy, and then after, would she have to suffer again, too?
Gio couldn’t breathe.
“You’re screwing with me,” Gio mumbled.
The doctor shrugged. “This isn’t a situation I find funny, Giovanni.”
Yeah, him either.
“We can do it—”
“I have to go,” Gio said, standing from the chair and grabbing his jacket. “I ... have to call my wife.”
Once Gio was inside his familiar SUV, he snatched the phone out of the glove compartment and dialed his wife’s cell. Kim picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“It didn’t work,” Gio said instantly.
“Um ...”
“The fucking vasectomy, Kim. It didn’t work. And I can have it redone, or whatever, but you might—”
“Giovanni, chill.”
Gio sunk into the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry.”
“My God, for what?”
“Screwing up.”
“Gio, it’s fine. We both knew what we needed to do between the procedure and the final checkup. We didn’t, so whatever.”
“Whatever?” Gio rubbed at his forehead. “Kim, do you realize—”
“I realize that everything started normally this morning, as I expected since I couldn’t breastfeed Andino. We’re good, Gio. Calm down.”
Gio could read between the lines. The medication she started taking for the PPD could have adverse side-effects on babies who were breastfeeding. Kim suspected her cycles would start within a couple months of Andino being born since breastfeeding usually held it off a while longer.
We’re good.
Relief flooded Gio like never before.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah. And I want some damned chocolate.”
“Chocolate,” he echoed.
“And a book. Pick me up a book on the way home, too.”
Gio nodded, even though his wife couldn’t see it.
“You’re going to get it redone, right?” Kim asked.
“The vasectomy?”
“Yes.”
Gio cleared his throat, wondering if this was their sign for something. “Do you want me to? I mean, it didn’t work. Does that tell us something?”
“Yes, to get a better doctor,” Kim muttered, laughing. “I love Andino, Gio. I am so happy with him. He’s perfect, okay. And the thought of doing this all over again scares the hell out of me.”
Good enough.
Gio smiled. “I’ll have it redone.”
“Good.”
“Do you want me to get the refill done for your meds before I come home, too?”
Kim sighed. “Gio—”
“I don’t mind, bella. I have time.”
“I didn’t have them filled last month. I’ve been without them for a while. The doctor knows—he suggested it when I mentioned how I was feeling when he lowered the dose.”
Oh.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“I didn’t think I needed to. You make everything better, anyway. And Andino. He makes it better, too.”
In the background, Gio could hear the quiet cooing of his son.
Andino made everything perfect.
“All right,” Gio finally said.
“Do you not want to have the procedure redone?” Kim asked quietly.
He thought of Andino.
And his wife.
Maybe he could afford more time and love to another child. Maybe he’d like to see his last name carried on with another boy, or see his features reflected in a little girl.
Maybe.
But he was happy now.
So happy.
“One and done, right?” Gio asked.
“One and done.”
Skip
“Skip, what’s this?” Gio asked.
The Capo glanced up from the papers on his desk, eyeing the shadow box Gio was peering into. “What, that old thing?”
Gio shrugged. “Yeah. There’s a note inside.”
“And that’s it,” the older Giovanni replied.
“Looks like it.” Gio read the words: Thank you. That was it. Nothing more. “Who’s it from?”
It must have been important if the Capo kept it. Fourteen-year-old Gio didn’t know Skip to be sentimental about much. He did know this was the man he had gotten his namesake from but his father Antony didn’t talk much about how that happened. For whatever reason, Antony didn’t show a lot of favoritism to any of his men, but especially his Capos.
“Skip?” Gio asked, turning around.
Skip cleared his throat and stood from the desk. “Well, it’s from your father.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Shit, I didn’t know that,” Gio muttered, eyeing the words again. “Why?”
The Capo laughed. “No wonder your father sends you over here with me, Gio. Your mouth is never going to cut it in a boss’s seat, kid.”
Gio shrugged like it didn’t make a difference. “I don’t want to be like Dad, anyway.”
There was nothing about being the leader of a major crime family that appealed to Gio. He had better things to do and worry about. He was just a kid, right. That wasn’t his life.
The Capo nodded. “Which is why you spend your days under my feet, kid.”
Maybe.
Gio liked the Capo, though. Skip didn’t treat him like he was just a hot-headed teenager. He didn’t act like Gio was stupid, either. Gio knew what his family was—Cosa Nostra—and who is father was, but a lot of people liked to pretend he didn’t. The Capo never did, he treated Gio like an equal, or as much as he could. Sometimes, the guy let Gio tag along for stuff, too.