Chapter 11: Doctor's Note

It was three weeks before the doctor cleared me, and Leandro counted every day without saying one word about it.

Adriano's father had played my recording to his captains and told them his son's name was off the port contract.

It was the first time anyone in either family had done something for me in public.

The accounts were still frozen, and the lawyer said it would take a month.

That night I washed the dishes Leandro had cooked, and I stood at the sink with my sleeves pushed up.

He dried the last pot and set it on the shelf, and he did not look at me.

"Doctor's note came," I said.

"I saw."

"She said no restrictions."

He put down the towel.

"Mirella."

It was the first time he had used my first name.

I turned around and leaned against the counter.

"Rule one, Mr. Bruni."

"I'm listening."

"I'm asking."

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Where?"

"Upstairs. Now."

I took his hand and led him up the narrow stairs to the room at the back of the rowhouse.

The lamp was on, and the bed was turned down.

I stopped in front of him and pulled his shirt over his head.

His chest was broad and hard, with a line of scar across the ribs on the left side and a smaller one above his hip.

I laid my palm over the scar and felt his heart under it, going hard.

"What happened here?"

"A man in a parking garage, six years ago."

"Did you win?"

"He didn't get up."

I smiled against his skin and kissed the scar, and his hand came into my hair and tightened.

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