In the seventh floor pediatric ICU, I ask for Mateo Diaz at the nurses’ station. They direct me to room 718. I knock on the door, and Sofia jumps up to greet me with a hug. She speaks to me in Spanish, thanking me for coming by and singing the praises of Dr. Northrup, who saved her little boy’s life.

  Mateo, dwarfed by the big hospital bed, is awake and alert.

  “How’s he doing?” I ask her in Spanish.

  “So much better. Thank God.”

  “That’s wonderful news. And how are you?”

  She hesitates before answering. “All that matters is that my baby is alive.”

  “What do you need, Sofia? What can we do to help?”

  With tears in her eyes, she leads me to the doorway so her son won’t overhear us. “I lost my job because I was absent, my rent is due, and I have no idea what to do.”

  I pull out my phone. “Give me your number. I’ll talk to some people and see what we can do to help.”

  “You’ve already done so much. I heard you’re the one who arranged for Dr. Northrup to come to the clinic. Without him…” She glances at Mateo. “I don’t know what we would’ve done. He donated his services and paid for the hospital costs out of his pocket. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t, but I’m not surprised.” If I hadn’t already been most of the way in love with Jason Northrup, I would be now.

  “It’s enough, Carmen. I’ll figure out the rest.”

  “Give me your number anyway. People will want to help.”

  Reluctantly, she gives me her number, which I type into my contacts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “God bless you.”

  I hug her, and when I pull back, Jason is standing there.

  “Morning,” he says to Sofia. “How’s my friend Mateo doing?”

  “He’s so much better.”

  “I heard that. I’m so glad. I’ll be in to see him in just a minute. Carmen, may I have a word, please?”

  “Sure.” I squeeze Sofia’s arm as I follow Jason into the hallway.

  I want to hug him and kiss him, and thank him for what he’s done for Mateo. I want to ask him if he’s heard that the Miami-Dade board has deferred to New York’s wishes to have their star pediatric neurosurgeon back. But I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I wait to hear what he has to say.

  “I’ve got to go to New York.”

  My heart sinks like a lead sinker in a murky pond. “Okay.”

  “They’ve got a three-year-old girl with the same tumor Mateo had. I’m flying up to operate on her, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I bite my lip and nod, intent on getting through this without becoming emotional. “I hope it goes well.”

  “I do, too. Her situation is a bit more complex than Mateo’s was.”

  His golden eyes gleam with anticipation of a complicated new case. He’s clearly in his element.

  “Mr. Augustino offered me the PR director’s job this morning.”

  “Seriously? Carmen, that’s amazing. Congratulations.” I can tell he wants to kiss me but restrains himself out of deference to where we are. “One week on the job, and you’re already getting promoted.”

  “I think it’s more because the director decided not to come back after her maternity leave.”

  “That’s not why. It’s because Mr. Augustino knows what an asset you are to his team. He never would’ve offered it to you if he wasn’t pleased with your work.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “It’s entirely true. I’m happy for you and super proud.”

  “Thanks.” I bask in the glow of his approval for a few final seconds while wondering if I’ll ever see him again. When he gets back to New York, where his old job is waiting for him, what reason will he have to come back here? I can send him the stuff he left at my place in the mail, I guess. “Good luck with the surgery.”

  “Thanks. I’ll text you when I can.”

  “Okay.” I start to walk away, determined to hold my head up and soldier on even if my heart is breaking.

  “Hey, Carmen?”

  I turn back to him, raising a brow while drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. As if I could ever forget.

  “I will be back.”

  I nod and continue on my way, clinging to my composure as I go. I can do this. I’ve been through worse. I’ll get through this, too. When I return to my office, I text Abuela and Nona, telling them about Sofia’s situation and asking what we can do to help.

  Abuela responds first. We’re on it, querida.”

  Thanks for letting us know, Nona adds.

  The next question, Abuela says, is how are YOU?

  I’m ok. Jason is going back to NY to do a surgery, but he said he’ll be back. I guess we’ll see.

  Ay, Mija, Abuela says, I know this is so hard, but that boy is falling for you. We all saw that. He’ll be back.

  I hope you’re right.

  When have you ever known me not to be?

  You had to toss her a softball, Nona says in her usual dry way.

  I laugh out loud, delighted as always by them. Love you guys. Thanks for always being there for me—and everyone else, too. I want to be you two when I grow up.

  You’re already the best part of us, Nona says. We love you too. We’ll get something going for Sofia.

  I reply with the kiss-face emoji. Sofia won’t know what hit her when the two of them mobilize on her behalf.

  I force myself to focus on work, to push everything else to the side and give my all to my job. I want to make Mr. Augustino glad he asked me to be the director. I work with HR to start the recruiting process for an assistant. I write a press release about one of our cardiologists winning a prestigious award and another for a nurse supervisor who’s retiring after forty years at the hospital. I interview them both and pour my heart and soul into telling their stories.

  Local media outlets report on both releases, which is a win for me—and the hospital.

  Days pass in which I do little more than go through the motions—get up, get ready for work, stop at Juanita’s, go to the office, chat with Mona, devote all my attention to my work, sit through meetings, rinse and repeat. Several days after Jason left, I have dinner at the restaurant where my grandmothers detail the full rundown of fundraisers and efforts they’ve put together to help Sofia, who is overwhelmed by their generosity. All the while, I try not to think about Jason, which is easier said than done.

  I got one brief text from him the day he left—letting me know he arrived safely in New York and was heading into surgery. Since then? Nothing.

  I tell myself he’s busy saving lives, doing what he was born to do. It’s the way things should be, even if I miss him more than I ever thought possible.

  On Friday, the board meets for the day as scheduled. According to Mona, who helped prepare for the meeting, the matter of Dr. Jason Northrup is not on their agenda. I process that information with the sinking feeling inside that’s become all-too-familiar to me during this seemingly endless week.

  The one bright spot is that I get my first real paycheck and stare at the details with a sense of disbelief. I always did well at the restaurant, but this is even better, especially after working hard to get through school. I pay my rent, pay down a chunk of my credit card balance and wallow in the sense of accomplishment that comes with ridding myself of debt.

  I spend the weekend alone, holed up in my apartment, licking my wounds and wondering if Jason meant it when he said he’d be back. I relive every minute we spent together, reveling in details I never want to forget. I watch Desiree’s interview with him a hundred times. I scroll through the photos I took of him playing dominoes with the older men, eating at Giordino’s, drinking at the Fountainbleu bar and sitting on Miami Beach.

  When I realize I don’t have a single photo of the two of us together, the feeling of loss is so intense it takes me back to the darkest days of my life. I hate returning to that place, even if I continue to tell myself that this is nothing like that. I’m learning that heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless of what causes it. With all the photos I took of him for Instagram, how could I not have thought to take a selfie of us together? I call in “sick” to Sunday brunch because I just don’t have it in me to answer questions from each of my overly concerned family members.

  It doesn’t surprise me at all when my parents and grandmothers arrive at my door bearing brunch leftovers, enough food to get me through the week without having to hit the grocery store. That’s a welcome relief as I don’t feel like doing anything.

  I appreciate that they only stay for half an hour, during which we talk about everything other than the elephant sitting on my chest before they depart to open for dinner at the restaurant. Once again, they give me a reason to thank my lucky stars to have been born into a family that cares the way they do, even if there are times I wish they cared a tiny bit less.

  By the following Wednesday, I’ve come to believe my relationship with Jason was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. If it hadn’t been for the clothing and personal items he left at my apartment, I’d think I dreamt the entire thing. I’ve taken to sleeping in one of his dress shirts that still bears the faint scent of his cologne. Don’t judge me. I’m trying to be strong, but I miss him, even if my rational self believes it’s crazy to feel this way about someone I knew for one week.

  It was a really, really good week.

  I’m at my desk on Thursday when Mona comes into my office and closes the door. I can tell with one look at her that she’s bringing me a scoop.

  “What’s up?”

  “The board is meeting in executive session.”

  “About what?”

  “Mr. Augustino said it’s a personnel matter and couldn’t say anything else.”

  “Okay…”

  “Debby in the cafeteria said she heard it’s about Dr. Northrup.”

  My heart stops. “Really?”

  Mona nods. “She heard he requested the meeting.”

  I can’t. I just can’t. If I allow myself to go there… “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  “I haven’t.” Mona is dying to know what went down between Jason and me. I’m not telling her or anyone about that. It’s our business, and it’s in the past now, anyway.

  Her cherubic face falls with disappointment. “Oh. Ok.” She clears her throat. “I’ll, ah, let you get back to work.”

  “Thanks, Mona. Close the door when you leave?”

  “Of course.”

  When the door clicks shut, I release a long exhale. My skin feels hot and tight, my heart is beating fast, and my mouth is dry. I want to text Jason and ask if the rumors are true, but if he wanted me to know, he would’ve told me. I haven’t heard anything from him since that one text more than a week ago.

  I stand and stretch, walking over to the window that looks down upon the circular driveway where we first met. I think about Priscilla and Betty and my trip to jail, about Jason bailing me out and asking for my help in restoring his damaged reputation. I dream about kissing him and touching him and making love with him, of sleeping in his arms and waking to his handsome face on the pillow next to mine.

  I blink back tears and give myself yet another pep talk, the hundredth one in the last week. I was fine before Jason. I am fine after him. It was fun, and I’m glad I met him. I’m relieved to know I can have feelings for a man other than my late husband. These are all good things, and maybe if I keep reminding myself about them, I might just survive this.

  Chapter 23

  JASON

  This has been a week straight from hell. The surgery was a nightmare that included two follow-up surgeries, and we still didn’t get it all, which complicates the child’s prospects for recovery. Sometimes it comes down to a choice between getting all of the tumor but leaving the patient with no quality of life. I did the very best I could for her, but sometimes my best isn’t good enough. At those times, this job can be tough to take.

  I met with the new chair of the New York hospital’s board of directors, who issued a formal apology for the way they treated me and offered my job back. They also promised that I’d be appointed head of neurosurgery when the current chief retires late next year.

  It’s a good offer, and I promised to give it careful consideration. I think she expected me to jump at the opportunity to come back. She has no idea that my heart now lives in the Miami sunshine. I miss Carmen so much. More than I’ve ever missed anyone. I think about her all day, every day. I dream about her at night, and I marvel at the way she came stampeding into my life and wiped just about every other thought out of my head that doesn’t involve her.

  If I’m not working, I’m thinking about her. I wanted to reach out to her and let her know I’m thinking of her, missing her and dying for her. However, I can’t do that until I’ve made some decisions about where I’m going to work and live. More than anything, I want to be fair to her.

  When I learned that the Miami-Dade board took my petition for privileges off their agenda last Friday after hearing that New York wanted me back, I panicked that Miami was no longer an option. What did Carmen think when she heard that? Does she even know? Of course, she does. Mona knows, so she would’ve told Carmen if Mr. Augustino didn’t.

  And then, it occurred to me that I needed to take control of this situation and stop letting others make decisions about my career for me. I reached out to Mr. Augustino, told him what I wanted and asked if he could help make it happen. He said he’d do his best, which is why I’m back in Miami in an Uber on my way to the hospital to meet with the board.

  My driver, a young man named Carlo, has the radio cranked to a light rock station and is singing rather loudly in broken English. What he lacks in talent he more than makes up for in enthusiasm.

  The traffic is as bad as usual. Thanks to Carmen, I know what normal looks like around here, and as we make the slow crawl toward the hospital exit, all I can think about is seeing her again, holding her and hoping she still wants me as much as I want her. And more than anything, I hope the presentation she put together on my behalf will sway the Miami-Dade board and convince them to allow me to join their team so I can live and work in her town—the only place in the world where she can be happy.

  That’s what I want for her—happiness. She deserves it more than anyone I’ve ever met, and I want to be the one to give that to her for the rest of our lives. Of course, I can’t tell her that. Not yet anyway. But that’s what I want, and if things go well today, I may be able to offer her the first steps toward forever.

  I just hope she still wants me after the turmoil of the last few weeks.

  A new song comes on the radio, something familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before. Probably in my mom’s minivan back when she was driving my brother and me to school and practices and everywhere else. We used to make such fun of the “dorky light rock” she made us listen to in the car. “My car, my music,” she used to say, telling us that we could pick the songs when we had our own cars.

  The song tells the story of a guy whose girl left him because she thought he’d been untrue to her, how she haunts him, and he would give anything to be with her. Riveted, I listen to Carlo sing the chorus, “that's how much I feel.” But it’s the last verse that really gets to me, the part where we find out the guy is married now, has been for years, but sometimes when he makes love to his wife, he still sees the face of the one who got away.

  I’m struck by complete and utter panic, knowing that’ll be me if I lose Carmen. I’ll be haunted by her forever.

  No matter what happens today with the board, I have to find a way to work it out with her. After spending this last week without her, I have no doubt that what I feel for her is a forever kind of love.

  “Sir?”

  I snap out of my thoughts to realize Carlo has been trying to get my attention.

  “We’re here. Miami-Dade General Hospital.”

  “Thanks, Carlo.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I grab my backpack and get out of the air-conditioned car into the oppressive heat that I’ll forever associate with Carmen and my first week in Miami. I’m wearing a light-blue dress shirt with a navy tie and khakis. Inside, I find the first men’s room where I pull the white coat I brought from New York from my backpack. It has Jason Northrup, MD embroidered on it. I put it on and check my reflection in the mirror. If I’m going to meet with the board and ask for a job on their neurosurgery team, I will do it looking like the highly qualified physician that I am.

  I want to go straight to Carmen’s office to tell her what’s going on, but I recall my vow to stay away until I have something definite to report. I take the elevator to the executive offices on the fifth floor and take a right toward the boardroom when everything in me wants to go left to her.

  First things first.

  With my hand on the board room door handle, I take a deep breath and release it before entering the room where Mr. Augustino asked me to meet him ahead of the board members joining us.

  He shakes my hand. “Good to see you again, Dr. Northrup.”

  “You as well. Thank you for seeing me and arranging the meeting.”

  “I’ll confess to being surprised to hear that you still wanted to meet with our board. I was under the impression that you’d be resuming your duties in New York.”

  “They’ve offered me my old job back and promised a promotion to department head when the current chief retires at the end of next year.”

  “That’s a pretty sweet offer. Our department head is around your age, so I’m afraid she’s probably here to stay for a while.”

  “I understand.”

  “You have the chance to be the department head next year in New York.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want to meet with our board?”

  “Yes, sir. Very much so.” I suppose he’ll find out soon enough why I want to work here so badly.

  He gives me a curious look before nodding. “All right then. Have a seat. The board will be joining us in thirty minutes.”