barely had enough time to move out of the way before the bottle of water hurled by him, hitting Gavin in the chest. Dante paced around, eyes continually flickering between the clock and the exit, before he turned his gaze on Matty. "How can you just sit there? Are you not bothered at all by this? Do you just not give a shit about my sister?"
"Of course I'm bothered," Matty ground out, "but making a scene doesn't help anybody."
"Helps me," Dante argued. "I feel a hell of a lot better when I'm doing something."
"I bet you do," Matty said. "Doesn't matter who gets hurt as long as the great and powerful Dante Galante feels better about himself. My brother can attest to that."
"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Gavin jumped up, sliding in front of Matty's chair when Dante came at him, hands clenched. "You start fighting and you'll both get thrown out of here, and then I'll be the only one who gets to see the baby, and while I'm not going to lose any sleep over that fact, I'm pretty sure Genna wouldn't forgive either of you assholes for it."
"Is there a problem here?" a stern voice asked, approaching them. Matty looked around Gavin, seeing an older man in a blue uniform behind Dante. Security. No gun on him, just pepper spray clipped to his belt, not enough force to stop someone like Dante but certainly enough to piss him off more.
"No problem," Dante said, his tone clipped. "Except that this hospital is bullshit."
"Everything's fine," Gavin said, smiling as he addressed the security guard. "This one's just getting a little impatient. He's going to take a seat and shut up now, though… isn't he?"
Gavin glared at Dante, who just shrugged as he sat back down. Security eyed him warily before strolling over to the side of the room, leaning against the wall to keep an eye on them.
"We're going to have to find some constructive way for you two to work this shit out," Gavin said, retaking his seat. "A boxing ring. Paintball. Couple's therapy. Something."
"There's nothing to work out," Matty said.
Dante motioned to Matty. "What he said."
"Well, that's a start," Gavin said. "You're agreeing on something. I mean, you're agreeing that you hate each other, but that's something, so… keep up the good work."
It took a minute at most before Dante was back out of his seat, and a minute after that Gabriella resurfaced. Matty stared at her as his heart hammered in his chest. He'd tried damn hard to keep calm the hour or so they sat there, waiting, but every second that passed without news was more opportunity for complications.
Dante stopped pacing as Gabriella approached him.
"You just don't listen, do you?" she asked, shaking her head.
"You wouldn't love me if I did," he responded. "Did you find out anything?"
"She's in recovery," Gabriella said. "They're moving her to a room."
"And she's okay?" Dante asked.
"She's fine," Gabriella confirmed. "The baby, too."
Matty closed his eyes, exhaling at those words. He felt like he'd been holding his breath for an entire goddamn hour.
"Nobody would give me more than that," Gabriella said, turning to Matty with a frown. "They wouldn't even tell me what she had."
"It's a boy," Gavin chimed in, slapping Matty on the back. "Baby boy Barsanti."
Dante groaned, running his hands down his face as he dropped back into the chair. Up and down, up and down, like a damn teeter-totter.
"How do you know?" Gabriella asked suspiciously, looking at Gavin.
"Matty-B told me," Gavin said. "He knew what they were having."
Gabriella shot Matty a look before turning to Dante.
"Don't look at me," Dante muttered. "Nobody tells me shit."
Gabriella scowled, kicking his shin, before turning back to Matty. "So, a son, huh?"
"Yeah," he whispered. "A son."
He had a son.
Twenty minutes. Twenty more agonizing minutes before someone appeared in the waiting room to address Matty, to tell him Genna and the baby were both safe and sound in a room down the hall. 212. The second those words came from someone's lips, Matty was out of his chair.
"About fucking time," Dante grumbled, trying to stand up, but Gabriella blocked him.
"We should let Matty go first, you know, to see them," she said. "Give him a minute."
"He's got one minute."
"Thirty minutes," Gabriella argued, "at least."
"Fifteen," Dante countered, "at most."
Matty didn't hang around to hear the rest of that conversation, wasting not a second longer. Room 212. The number rang through his mind as he raced down the hallway, breaking out into a sprint. 212.