I smiled, squeezing his hand.
“Excellent choice.”
The process of casting his arm went smoothly. Marco watched with fascination as the wet material was applied. I kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking about his favorite dinosaurs, his school, anything to keep his mind off the discomfort.
Just as the cast was being finished, the curtain was abruptly pulled back.
Dante Russo stood there, still in a business suit, his face tense with concern that melted into relief when he saw his son.
“Papa!”
Marco held up his green cast proudly.
“Look. Like a dinosaur.”
Dante moved to his side in 2 long strides, kneeling to examine the cast and his son’s face.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not anymore. Miss Ellie was keeping me company. She works here.”
Dante’s eyes finally shifted to me, and I felt the same electric jolt I had experienced in his study.
“Miss Morgan,” he said, his deep voice neutral. “This is unexpected.”
“I heard Marco was hurt. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Appreciation, perhaps, or curiosity.
“Thank you.”
The doctor returned with discharge instructions, addressing them to Dante with the deference of someone who recognized authority.
“Mr. Russo, Marco should be fine. The fracture is minor, and children heal quickly. He’ll need to keep the cast dry, and we’ll check it in 2 weeks.”
Dante nodded, his full attention on the doctor’s instructions, asking precise questions about pain management and activity restrictions.
