an open living room, little more than a black couch and an old coffee table with a television across from it, affixed to the white-painted wall. Behind a sliding door with frosted glass was her bedroom, the full bed taking up most of the space, leaving just enough room for her dresser and well, her mess.
Cleaning wasn't exactly her biggest priority. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Gabriella hated doing laundry, especially since the washing machines were in the basement of the building.
Down a short hall, beside the bedroom, was the lone bathroom, the size of a closet, one you could barely walk in. It wasn't much. By her parents' account, it wasn't enough. They worried about her living in the city, but Gabriella loved it.
She loved being self-sufficient.
Stripping out of her clothes, flinging them on the floor, Gabriella fell into her bed, face-planting her pillow, desperate for sleep.
After tossing and turning for a few hours, dozing off to inexplicably find herself awake again, Gabriella forced herself back out of bed to shower. Time moved fast while she shuffled slow, putting on a fresh pair of scrubs before making her way back to the hospital.
Another night.
Another shift.
Twelve more hours in the ICU.
On the way, she stopped at Como's Pizzeria, grabbing a small pepperoni pie to go. She detoured in the lobby of the hospital, heading to the information desk, approaching the woman sitting there, answering phones.
"Can you have a volunteer take this up to the general ward?" she asked, handing over the red and white pizza box. "Room 245... patient's name is Dante Galante."
"Uh, sure." She eyed Gabriella with suspicion, the morally gray area beginning to turn dark. "Is this from you?"
"I'm just delivering it," she said. "Nothing more."
Gabriella started to walk away when the woman called out, "Who's it from?"
She considered that before answering, "Tell him it's from a friend who thinks red Jell-O sucks."
Gabriella headed to a bank of elevators just as one opened. She stepped in with a few others, someone strolling in right behind her. A throat cleared as the doors closed, and Gabriella came face-to-face with Crabtree. "Doctor."
"Nurse." He nodded tersely. "Nice night for pizza, huh?"
"It's always a nice night for pizza," she said. "There's nothing better."
"Have I told you lately that I love you?" Genna mumbled with her mouth full. "Because I totally do."
Smiling to himself, Matty tore the plastic off the top of the tub of ice cream. She'd told him she loved him a moment earlier and a few minutes before that, too. In fact, she'd been repeating it non-stop since he'd carried groceries inside. "It's always nice to hear."
"Good, because I seriously love you."
Glancing over his shoulder, Matty watched as she shoveled a bite in her mouth with a plastic spoon, eating straight from the pan.
Chocolate cake with strawberry icing. Who knew how hard it would be to find? Every bakery had chocolate cake covered with vanilla or buttercream or even more chocolate but no damn strawberry to be found. So after searching for over a week, he gave up, buying the ingredients and a damn pan, baking one in the ancient oven.
It looked like shit. He was almost ashamed. He hadn't waited for it to cool before icing it, so crumbles of chocolate cake coated the top. He covered it with a container of chocolate sprinkles, giving up, hoping it would suffice.
It was the thought that counted, right?
The cake looked dry, like he'd baked it too long, and it came out of a box courtesy of Betty Crocker, but Genna devoured it like Martha Stewart herself had whipped it up in her kitchen.
"For the record: I love you, too," he said, pulling the top off of the ice cream tub. Half of it had melted in the heat, the freezer in the house worthless. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry converged, creating a discolored mess. Grabbing a plastic spoon, he dug it in, watching as liquid ran off the sides. "So, you want some soup to go with your cake?"
Genna took a few steps over, pausing behind him, and glanced at the ice cream. She shrugged and dug her cake spoon straight into the carton. "I like it better this way."
Matty leaned back against the counter, regarding her. "You're kidding."
"Nope," she said, giving up pretense and grabbing the entire carton, hugging it to her chest. She stuck her spoon in and stirred, mixing the flavors together. "My brother and I used to eat all of our ice cream like this."