Sugared

by Gina LaManna

  “Oh, shut it,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling some. “So, can you explain what’s happening to me?”

  “I don’t always like to know what exactly happens with your lot,” Dr. Gambino said. “The answer is never good. Instead, I will give you a summary of what I think happened.”

  “Even better.”

  “Somehow, a gun accidentally discharged from one of your business acquaintances. How am I doing so far?”

  “Close enough.”

  “And it grazed your arm. It clipped you pretty good, hence the blood.”

  “Is that the good news?”

  “Well, I think the bad news is that you got shot in the first place.”

  “Touché.”

  “You might have a small scar, but you’ll be fine.”

  “Super! So, does Carlos know?”

  “About the blood you got in his car?” Dr. Gambino shook his head. “I’m not telling him, nor am I telling Anthony. That is your business. I’m not taking the blame for any of it.”

  “Coward.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my idea to get in a gunfight in the first place.”

  “I wasn’t trying to.”

  Dr. Gambino sighed. “You never are.”

  “So, I’m good to go?” I sat up, wondering where my clothes had gone. “Do you have an extra pair of sweats or something? I don’t want to walk home with this outfit.”

  “Lacey, I—”

  “Fine. Where’s Alessandra? I’ll bet she has some extra clothes around. Not that I’ll fit into them, but I suppose they’ll work for now—”

  “Lacey.” Dr. Gambino spoke with a new force. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  I examined the gauze over my arm, chilled for a moment at the thought that if something hadn’t gone right—if I’d moved just an inch over, maybe I wouldn’t have been here joking around. A sobering thought. One I didn’t want to dwell on for long.

  I forced myself to look up and focus. “What’s wrong? I thought you said everything was fine. Did you lie? Is everything not fine?”

  “Lacey, no—”

  “Why would you tell me everything is okay?” I recoiled. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “Nothing is wrong. The gunshot wound is taken care of completely.”

  “Then why the long face?”

  “It’s not a long face. It’s more of an I’m not sure how to say this face.”

  “You’re the doctor. Spit it out.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “What?”

  “You told me to spit it out!”

  “What did you say?” I asked, my voice sharp.

  Dr. Gambino stepped closer to the bed, his hand coming to rest on mine. “You are going to have a baby, Lacey.”

  “How do you know? I took a test the other day, and it came back negative.”

  “Tests can be wrong.”

  “Not this one; I know it’s not wrong. It can’t be wrong.”

  “Take a deep breath,” Dr. Gambino said. “You came to me this morning because you hadn’t been feeling well.”

  “No, Anthony forced me to come to you because I kept puking, and it was interfering with our personal lives.”

  Dr. Gambino had the audacity to wink at me. “Well, now you know why.”

  “Yes. Seasickness, then shock, then...” I paused, the realization hitting me all at once. “Morning sickness?”

  He smiled. “Congratulations.”

  I laid back, suddenly dizzy. This news might be more alarming than the bullet wound.

  “I know this is probably not the best time, but I figured you’d want to tell Anthony.”

  “Oh, crap.” I let myself fall back onto the table. “He doesn’t even know I’ve been shot.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll have a big day of news to tell him.”

  “Fantastic,” I said, sarcasm creeping in as I mimicked a high-pitched voice. “Hi, honey. How was your day? Fine? That’s good. Mine was uneventful. I just found out we’re having a baby and, oh yeah, I got shot.”

  “Why didn’t you call him on the ride over?” he asked. “You could’ve gotten the bullet wound out of the way first.”

  “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. Then we got here, and Nora took over, and I was halfway out of consciousness!”

  “She’s waiting for you in the hallway. Alessandra was too, until Nora forced her to eat something and rest once I gave the all clear.”

  “The all clear.”

  “Would you like to see Nora? You’re free to go. Obviously, I’ll be seeing you a lot more frequently now that we have a baby to worry about, too.”

  “A baby.”

  “Do me a favor, will you?” Dr. Gambino leaned closer, measuring his words. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this—I’m sure Anthony will, too—but, please try to be more careful. Things like gunfights are strenuous for anyone, especially pregnant women.”

  “Um—”

  “In fact, I’d suggest you quit whatever it is you’re doing, enjoy a long honeymoon with Anthony, and then take it easy. For the rest of your life.”

  “The rest of my life?”

  “I’m only saying this because I care about you. We all do, and we want to see you and your family happy and healthy because soon, there will be three.”

  “Three,” I echoed again, still incapable of formulating my own words.

  “Let me get Nora,” he said. “This is where my expertise ends.”

  “No, no, I’m okay,” I said. “Can I just, uh...call you later or something?”

  “Come see me before you leave for your trip. We’ll talk once you’ve calmed down and had time to process. It’s a lot to handle.”

  “You think?”

  “Keep that sense of humor. You’ll need it.”

  I forced a smile in his direction as I stood. After all, none of this was his fault. Not the baby, not the shooting, not the fact that I had to tell bad news and good news to my husband. And I still had to get fake-married this weekend.

  “Dr. Gambino told me everything’s fine,” Nora said, smiling brightly as she looped her arm through my good one. “It’s just a scratch. Everything will be fine.”

  “Will it?” I asked. “How do you know that?”

  “Because he told me?”

  “Yeah, well, maybe he lied.”

  “Lacey. Dr. Gambino has been with the family for years. Why would you think he’s lying to you?” Nora took a few steps closer to me. Her hand came up, resting on my wrist. “I know you’re shaken up. Anyone would be after the day you’ve had.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “No, I don’t. Because you’re not telling me anything. What is wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  “Nothing? I’ll show you nothing.”

  Nora began marching, leaving me no choice but to follow along since her hand was still on my wrist.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as we passed the ballroom on the second floor. “I need to go home and get some rest.”

  She continued the trek back into her bedroom. I’d been with the family for years now, and I’d never stepped foot in here until recently. Now I’d been here twice in one week.

  “Sit,” she instructed, gesturing toward the edge of her bed. “And tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s nothing. You’re right, it’s just shock.”

  “You got a scrape,” Nora said. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  “I was shot! Don’t I get any sympathy?”

  “You’re the one who is clearly hiding something from me. I don’t give sympathy unless I know why. Don’t forget, dear, I’m married to Carlos. This isn’t my first bullet wound, so either start talking, or drop the attitude.”

  I was more than a little surprised by her outburst. In fact, I couldn’t think of much to say, so I spluttered some, and then ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry.”

  “Honey, I’m not upset with you. I know it might sound that
way, but...” Nora trailed off, moving to sit next to me on the bed. The comforter rumpled slightly, and she absently tried to smooth it straight. “I knew what sort of life I’d lead when I married Carlos. I knew the dangers and the risks, but I loved him, and it was all worth it to me.”

  I nodded, since she didn’t seem to want a response.

  “But days like this, it really ticks me off when I see my granddaughter coming home with a bullet wound two days before her wedding.”

  “It’s not his fault,” I said. “Carlos had nothing to do with this.”

  “Maybe not this instance. But think about it; if he’d become a teacher, we wouldn’t be sitting here discussing why you’ve been shot. Probably.”

  “Carlos would be terrifying as a teacher.”

  Nora gave a soft laugh. “In an odd way, I can hardly blame him for the life he chose. Circumstances drew him toward it; he’s good at his work. Strong, loyal, fair.”

  “This really isn’t about Carlos. He doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said. “He always knows.”

  “That’s probably true, but even so, I got myself into this. Don’t be mad at Carlos.”

  “It’s not just about this!” Nora stood and threw her hands in the air. “Maybe if Carlos hadn’t gotten involved in all of this, we would’ve known our granddaughter existed before she was twenty-something years old. Maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here injured. Maybe her mother would be here to see her daughter get married.”

  The room fell silent. Apparently, she’d been right. It wasn’t about this at all. I may have secrets, but Nora had been keeping things locked up, too.

  “You can’t think about the what-if’s,” I said, reaching for her hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze. “You just don’t know those things.”

  Nora closed her eyes, and a few tear drops slid down her cheeks. “Your mother left us because of who we were, the things we did. Because of our choices.”

  “Everyone makes choices, for better or for worse, and she made hers. But you loved her, and Carlos loved her. I’m sure she knew that. There were other factors at play in her choice to leave.”

  “She fell in love with a man who wanted to work in law enforcement. Then, she got pregnant. Obviously, she felt like she couldn’t tell us, couldn’t bring him home—couldn’t even be with him.”

  “Nora, that’s not—”

  “She must’ve figured she had to face everything on her own. I just wish she’d trusted that we would’ve loved her no matter what.”

  “She knew it, I promise. And she will be at the wedding. Maybe not physically, but I know she’d be happy for us. Everything will be okay.”

  “How do you know?” Nora repeated the same question that’d started this whole conversation.

  I gave a wry smile. “I don’t know anything.”

  Nora leaned her head on my shoulder, my good shoulder, and let her hand fall on my leg. We stayed next to each other, quiet, for a very long time.

  Finally, she gave my leg a squeeze. “You’re right.” She sat up and looked my way, her eyes damp with tears. “It is always okay. I’m done whining for the day. Sorry you had to see that.”

  “You’re allowed to whine.”

  “I whine and cry plenty, dear.” She forced a smile. “I’m done for now. You’re right, you know. Your mother will be there Saturday. She’ll be watching, and she’d have approved of Anthony.”

  “Just think,” I told her. “If Carlos hadn’t made the choices he did, I wouldn’t be marrying Anthony on Saturday. He’s my soul mate. If it weren’t for you and Carlos, maybe we never would’ve met.”

  Nora fought the tears, but her lip wobbled, and one spilled over. She followed it up with a cute little hiccup.

  I took both of her hands in mine, squeezed, and smiled. “And if the pieces hadn’t fallen into place just so, then who knows if I’d be able to tell you that you’re going to be a great-grandmother?”

  Nora hiccuped, louder this time. She froze. Still as a statue. “Excuse me?”

  I looked down, feeling suddenly very shy. “Anthony and I are going to have a baby. Dr. Gambino just told me.”

  It took a full seven seconds for it to sink in. When it did, she blinked, made a stifled noise in her throat, and then slumped into a dead faint.

  “Dr. Gambino!” I yelled. “Help! It’s Nora—”

  Dr. Gambino strode through the door like Superman, the stethoscope swinging around his neck instead of a cape. Clapping his hands together, he gave a raised eyebrow at my shocked look. “Don’t seem so surprised, Miss Luzzi. I saw you two walk off and figured this might happen.”

  “That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I said.

  Dr. Gambino laughed, then leaned over and carefully revived my grandmother. He eased her back into reality, and then helped me explain the news for several more minutes. Finally, we made a breakthrough.

  Then the waterworks began.

  Nora threw herself into my arms, her face damp against my gown. I had yet to borrow real clothes from Alessandra, so I was stuck awkwardly holding the back of the flimsy fabric closed with one hand, and patting my grandmother on the head with the other.

  When Nora pulled back, she sniffled some, and then tilted her nose upward and presumed a false sense of composure. Running a hand across her eyes, she gave a shake of her head and feigned indifference. “Well, I guess it’s about time!”

  “Nora!” Dr. Gambino said in surprise. Then, at my smile, he bowed out. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “One problem,” I said. “I haven’t told Anthony yet, and I need to break the news to him.”

  “I can help with that!” Nora leapt off the bed and clapped her hands. “I have a little something that I’ve been saving for years.”

  “Years, huh?”

  “It’s here in my dresser.” Nora bustled over, opening drawers, her eyebrows knitted in concentration. “I had to hide it from Carlos because he hates when I bother you about these things.”

  “He does?”

  “Believe it or not.” She shuffled back, her arms laden with gifts. “Here you are, dear. What do you think?”

  Nora had spread out two miniature outfits on the bed. Against the snow-white comforter, the outfits were a shadow of black. Little black pants and a shirt for a boy, and a little black skirt and a top for a girl.

  “I wasn’t sure what the gender would be,” Nora said, watching my face expectantly. “You know, whenever it finally happened. So, I got both. And I got these for Meg. She’ll want to be included in the fun, too.”

  Nora withdrew two more articles of clothing from her bag and spread them on the bed.

  “You’re kidding.” I reached out, fingering the edge of two miniature camouflage vests. A normal green one, and then a pink version. “Where did you even find these?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Don’t these little black numbers look perfect for Anthony’s baby? They’ll be matchy-matchy and cute as buttons.”

  “He might not want you to call him cute,” I said. “Or reference buttons around him.”

  “I understand.” Nora zipped her lips. “But I’m going to be thinking it. Cute as buttons.”

  I decided not to venture into the territory of telling Nora that I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to dress our baby like a miniature commando. The thought was sweet, though, so I let it be and packaged up the gifts. Anthony might even get a kick out of it.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Really. It means a lot that you have been thinking of us. Just don’t say anything yet, okay?”

  “Right,” Nora said with an exaggerated wink. “Waiting until after the honeymoon?”

  “Well, that, and I also would like to tell my husband. You know, before he finds out from a third party.”

  Nora nodded. “Go on dear, get home. We’ll see you for rehearsal dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Oh, I forgot about that!”

  “How could you forget about tha
t?”

  I gestured toward my bullet wound. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Well, I don’t care what happens, you better not be late. Seven p.m.”

  ***

  “Lacey, there you are!”

  I stopped halfway down the front steps of the estate. With one arm bound with gauze and the other loaded down with Nora’s baby treats, I had to peer over my pile of things to find the speaker.

  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I focused on Alessandra approaching from the garage.

  “Hey,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I roped one of Anthony’s new trainees to take care of the blood in the car before Carlos found out. Turns out, Carlos has a guy on speed dial who handles incidents like this. Can you believe it?”

  “Who would’ve thought? Carlos has a blood guy. That’s alarming.”

  “How are you?” She looked closer at my arm, flinched. “That looks like it stings.”

  “Stings, but I’ll live,” I said. “Thanks to you and Dr. Gambino.”

  “I’m really glad things weren’t worse.”

  “Me too.” I waited, since she seemed anxious to share something with me. “What’s on your mind?”

  She slipped her phone out of her pocket and waved it back and forth. “I got the whole thing recorded. All of it.”

  “All of what?”

  “From the second The Zebra walked into the room to the moment he shot you.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “There’s a safety feature, and if I click the camera button and hold, it records everything. I had it specially installed because of my work.”

  “And it came in handy. Have you called the police?”

  “The police?”

  “I assume you’re going to turn this over to the police?”

  “No! I’m not involving the police—not yet, anyway.”

  “Why not? You have enough to put him away. He shot me, Alessandra. Sure, he only got a bit of skin, but if he was more coordinated things could’ve been bad.”

  “But they won’t put him away for murdering Beckett. There’s no evidence yet. The police don’t even think Beckett was murdered.”

  “What does it matter? He’ll still be in prison.”