Page 296 of Ricardo

Ricardo turns me gently in his arms. My hands settle against his chest.

“The doctors said they will try lowering his medication tomorrow,” he says. “If he tolerates it, he will be awake for longer.”

“I know.” I look up at him. “I can’t wait.”

His eyes move over my face, and whatever he sees there makes his expression soften.

“What is wrong?”

I try to shake my head, but the worry has already reached my mouth. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

“The medication?”

“The baby.”

Ricardo looks down at me for a moment without answering.

I slide my hands higher on his chest. “I know we don’t have to tell him right away. I know he’s recovering, and he needs rest, and this can wait. But everyone else knows. He’ll have to know soon. He’ll be upset if he doesn’t.”

“Yes.”

“And after everything with us, after how hurt he was…” I swallow. “Do you think this will make him angry all over again?”

Ricardo’s hands move along my back, offering comfort and taking it. He is choosing his words carefully.

“I think we have a couple more days before we need to worry about that.”

“That is a cop-out answer.”

His mouth twitches.

I narrow my eyes. “Ricardo.”

“Well,” he says carefully, “I do not think Dante will be angry at the baby.”

For a second, I only stare at him.

Then I smack his chest with the back of my hand.

He laughs.

A real laugh. It’s low and, yes, tired, but there. I feel it beneath my palm.

“Don’t do that,” I say, but I am smiling now too.

His eyes are warm. “It was an honest answer.”

I should ask him about Harrison.

The thought comes up, sharp and unwelcome.

There is a plan. I know there is. I know there are people here from Atlantic City, and they're working on something. I know Ricardo is being smart about it, just like I asked.

Even though all he wanted to do was tear through everything in his path on the way to Harrison.

I should ask.

I should know what is happening, because it is my life. My past. My apartment.