“What is?”

  “Telling a patient my problems.”

  “I’m not just a patient. We agreed we’re friends now, and friends help each other. That’s the whole point of friendship.”

  “Thank you. I feel lucky to have met you and your amazing family.”

  “I feel lucky to have met you, too.”

  Our time together is interrupted when Dr. Jason Northrup and his group of residents come into the room.

  Gianna quickly pulls her hand free and gets up to return to the computer.

  “How’s my star patient today?” Jason asks. “Ready to move to rehab?”

  I glance at Gianna. I’m not ready at all, but I tell Jason what he wants to hear. “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Excellent.” He does a perfunctory check of the halo and the screws holding it in place and puts me through a now-familiar neurological exam. “Everything is healing up great. Now we’ll focus on getting you back to full strength so you can return to your life.”

  That ought to be my top priority, and of course it is, but I’m devastated to be leaving the ward where I got to see Gianna every day. The roller coaster of emotions makes me feel silly and immature when I should be counting my blessings. Jason told my parents after the surgery that I got incredibly lucky to still have full mobility.

  To be moving on from in-patient care to rehab is a big step forward that I’m thankful to be making, but after the last few minutes with Gianna, I’m more determined than ever to keep her in my life and do whatever I can to help get her out from under the nightmare her ex has left her to clean up.

  One of Jason’s residents, a young doctor named Emma, is put in charge of overseeing my move to the rehab facility.

  Before he left last night, Nico packed up all the stuff that’s accumulated during my time in the hospital. We gave the last of the flowers to the nurses, and the rest of my things are packed into two bags that are ready to go with me to my new home away from home.

  “Can I have just a minute?” I ask Emma when I’m loaded into a wheelchair for the ride.

  She glances between me and Gianna, who stayed to help.

  “Um, sure.”

  After she leaves the room, I gesture for Gianna to come over to where I can see her. “I know it may not seem like it right now, but everything will be okay.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so. My mom is a Doberman on behalf of her clients. That’s what my dad calls her. She’ll make this go away for you.”

  “I sure hope you’re right.”

  “I am. You can count on it. I’ll text you after I talk to her. In the meantime, try not to worry.”

  “Thank you, Milo.”

  “I should be thanking you. You’ve made what should’ve been one of the worst things I’ve ever been through into one of the best.”

  “Stop it,” she says with a laugh. “That is not true!”

  “Yes, it is. And the minute I’m out of this contraption, I’m going to take you to dinner to thank you for taking such amazing care of me.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’ll talk to you in a little while, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “And you’re not going to worry, right?”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Excellent.”

  Gianna rolls me into the hallway and hands one of my bags to Emma while the other sits on my lap.

  As we go by the nurses’ station, I say goodbye to the others who’ve become familiar to me since I arrived on the ward after the surgery. I’m thankful to all of them, as well as to Jason and his team, for the second chance I’ve been given. We sure got lucky when Carmen fell in love with him and made him part of our family. That he was right there when I needed him is another thing to be grateful for.

  I’ve never been someone who feels the need to wait around for some sort of disaster to strike to live life to the fullest. But you can’t go through something like this without feeling differently about everything. Imagine if I’d died without knowing what it was like to be truly in love. What a tragedy that would’ve been. I’m not saying I’m in love with Gianna or anything like that, but if my desire to fix everything that’s gone wrong for her is any sign, I could be.

  I absolutely could be, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

  Rehab sucks. From the minute I arrived, they’ve had me up and moving and running through exercises that make my muscles quiver from exertion. I’m sweating and nauseated within half an hour, and it goes downhill from there. By the time I return to the room I was in for five minutes before the sadists showed up, I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. I’d give anything for a shower, but that’s not possible with the halo and the vest that covers half my chest. I’ll need help with getting cleaned up, so I’ll wait until the nurse returns.

  I sit on the bed and move painfully to get my feet up and find a comfortable position for my head. I miss Gianna. She knows how to make me comfortable in this stupid contraption. I can’t wait to be free of it. I can’t wait for a hot shower, another thing I’ll never again take for granted. While I understand why the halo is necessary, it’s like being inside a prison in some ways. I had no idea how many times a day I moved my head in one direction or another until I couldn’t move it at all.

  That’s the last thought I have until much later, when I open my eyes to see that it’s gotten dark while I napped. I try to sit up and moan as my tortured muscles fight back. It’s ridiculous how weak I am. I work out every day at home and thought I was in good shape until I spent weeks in a hospital bed.

  It takes a few minutes, but I fight my way out of bed, relying on abdominal muscles that ache as much as the rest of me does from doing more than their share of the work lately. I go into the bathroom and remove the button-down shirt—the only kind I can wear thanks to the halo—and the rest of my clothes, determined to do this much myself going forward. Using a washcloth, I manage to clean all the important parts. The nurse will help me remove the vest later and clean the skin under it.

  I reach for a towel, moving carefully so I won’t do something stupid like fall and set myself back even further. By the time I struggle into a change of clothes, I’m completely drained again, but at least I’m covered when my parents knock on the door.

  I wave them in through the window in the door.

  They’re so happy that I survived the shooting I could probably ask them for anything, and they’d give it to me. Not that I’d ever take advantage of them, but their joy at seeing me is unmistakable every time they come in.

  “How’s it going, son?” my dad, Lorenzo, asks.

  “Pretty good. Rehab is no joke, though. I liked the hospital better.”

  “This is a good sign that you’re on your way home,” my mom, Elena, says as she kisses the back of my hand. She hates that she can’t kiss my face because of the halo. “Nico asked us to bring a razor.”

  “Just put it on the bedside table.” I’m too tired to even think about shaving.

  “And we brought dinner. Mom made delicious manicotti and salad. Are you hungry?”

  I wasn’t until I caught a whiff of the manicotti she knows I love. “Starving.”

  “Then we got here just in time,” Mom says.

  I sit on the bed with the tray table across my lap to eat, covered in paper towels so I won’t make a mess of my clean clothes.

  “I brought you more clothes that Nico washed for you,” Mom says.

  “When is he going to forgive himself for this and stop acting like my butler?” I ask them.

  “Not any time soon,” Dad says with a frown. “He’s out of his mind over it.”

  “I told him to cut that out. All that matters is that I survived it and I’m not paralyzed or anything permanent. We got lucky.”

  “And he knows that, but he still feels responsible,” Dad says.

  “He didn’t pull the trigger.”

  “Still,” Dad says. “How would you feel if this had happened to him because of something tied to you, even indirectly?”

  “As awful as he does, I suppose. But I miss ball-busting Nico. This kinder, gentler version of him is creepy.”

  My parents laugh.

  “Hopefully, he’ll be back to normal soon,” Mom says, “but he’s as upset as we’ve ever seen him.”

  “He doesn’t need to be. This wasn’t his fault. I don’t blame him. No one does.”

  “We’ll keep telling him until he gets it through his thick skull,” Dad says.

  “This is delicious, Mom. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “She made it just for you. I got leftovers.”

  “Oh stop,” Mom says. “You’re having manicotti tomorrow.”

  “Yay.”

  “Mom, can I ask a favor for a friend?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Remember my nurse Gianna from the hospital?”

  “Of course. She’s a lovely young woman.”

  “Yes, she is, and we’ve kind of become friends. Her ex-fiancé called off their wedding at the wedding.”

  “Lord. How does someone let it get that far along if they’re not planning to go through with it?”

  “I don’t know.” It makes me so angry that anyone could do that to her, especially after she lost her parents the way she did. “He promised to pay what they owed the venue, but he never did it, and now they’re suing her because she signed the contract.”

  Mom’s brows furrow in the look that used to terrify my siblings and me when we’d done something wrong. “Do you have her number?”

  “It’s in my phone.” I point to it, plugged into a charger across the room. That was the only plug I could reach when I checked in.

  After Mom brings me my phone, I find the number Gianna gave me earlier and share the contact with my mom.

  “Got it,” Mom says. “I’ll call her from the car on the way home.”

  “Thank you so much. She’s incredibly upset.”

  “I can only imagine. We’ll take care of it for her.”

  “I’m always thankful for you guys, but never more so than recently.”

  Mom blinks back tears. “We’re thankful we didn’t lose you in this senseless act of violence.” She shudders. “For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the horror of that night.”

  Dad reaches over to take her hand. “Nor will I.”

  “I’m sorry I put you guys through that.”

  “Certainly not your fault, but we do appreciate you surviving,” Mom says with a forced smile.

  “A while ago, Gianna told me she doesn’t have any family to speak of, except for two younger brothers in college out West. They lost their parents when she was in college.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to tell them this, but once they know it, I have no doubt that they’ll treat her like family. That’s how they are.

  “That poor girl,” Mom says. “That’s terrible, and then her fiancé did this to her?” She shakes her head. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry.”

  I almost feel a little sorry for Gianna’s ex. My mom will make him wish he’d never been born by the time she’s finished with him.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  “Any friend of my kids is a friend of mine.”

  “Did I get the feeling you might be a little sweet on that pretty nurse, son?” Dad asks.

  “Maybe. I really like her. But it’s hard to do anything about it while I’m stuck inside this damned cage.”

  “Did Jason say how much longer you’ll need it?” Mom asks.

  “At least another couple of weeks. I’ll go mad by then.”

  “You’re doing great,” Mom says.

  They stay for another half hour, getting up to leave when they see that I’m fighting to stay awake. “Sorry to be such a drag.”

  Standing next to the bed, Mom carefully reaches inside the halo to smooth the hair back from my forehead. “You’re not a drag, and I can’t wait to be able to kiss your cheek again. Sleep tight, my love.”

  “You, too.”

  “I’ll sleep better when you’re out of here.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t lose any sleep over me.”

  “That’s like telling her not to breathe.” Dad pats me on the shoulder. “Love you, buddy.”

  “Love you, too. Thanks for dinner and for calling Gianna and everything else.”

  “You got it,” Mom says. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I love the way our family steps up for people in need. Nico met his fiancée, Sofia, when she came to work at the family’s restaurant. Our grandmothers “adopted” her following her son’s emergency brain surgery. The surgery was donated by Jason, who discovered the child’s tumor during a volunteer tour at the free clinic where my sister Maria works. That’s my family for you. They see a young, single mother in crisis and do everything they can to make things easier for her.

  I hope the Giordinos can work their magic on Gianna’s behalf, too. I feel much better knowing my mom is on the case.

  I send Gianna a text. Hey, it’s Milo. I gave my mom your number, and she’s going to call you shortly. She’s already infuriated on your behalf, so here comes Elena with all guns blazing. I add a laughing emoji. Rehab is no fun, especially since you’re not here.

  She writes back a few minutes later. Thank you SO MUCH, Milo. I can’t tell you what this means to me. I’ll be by to see you after work tomorrow. Let me know if I can bring you anything.

  Just your company would make my day. I stare at the text for a long moment, hoping it doesn’t sound too needy or pathetic, before I press Send.

  You got it!

  I fall asleep smiling as I look forward to seeing her tomorrow.

  Chapter 4

  GIANNA

  My phone rings when I’m on the way home. I take the call on my Bluetooth. “Hello, this is Gianna.”

  “Hi, Gianna. It’s Elena Giordino. Milo told me about your situation, and I want to help.”

  “Thank you so much for calling, Mrs. Giordino.”

  “Call me Elena, honey. Start from the beginning and tell me what happened. I’m in the car with my husband, and the call is on the Bluetooth, just so you know. If you’d prefer that I call you back when I’m alone, I can do that in about thirty minutes.”

  “It’s no problem.” The cancellation of my wedding is the last topic I wish to revisit, but I know it’s necessary to fight the lawsuit. I tell her about Jared proposing two Christmas Eves ago and how he wanted a big wedding. “He gave me a budget of forty thousand dollars and said to do with it whatever I could. He was busy at work—even busier than I am—so he left it all to me to plan.”

  “Do you have that anywhere in writing? A text or an email?”

  “I might. I can go through the texts and see if there’s anything.”

  “That’d be great. We might have to sue him to cover the damages from the venue’s lawsuit.”

  “Ugh.”

  “I know, but he made promises to you, and I’m going to make sure he keeps them. We might be able to void the lawsuit if I can convince him to do the right thing. Can you send me photos of the summary pages of the lawsuit as well as his name and phone number? I’ll call him in the morning and outline the situation to him.”

  Wow, this woman doesn’t mess around. I love her already. “I’m driving, so I’ll send them to you when I get home.”

  “Perfect. Sometimes all it takes in cases like this is a call from a lawyer letting someone know that things are going to get ugly for him unless he does the right thing—and quickly.”

  “I appreciate this more than you’ll ever know.”

  “I’m happy to do whatever I can to help.”

  “I’ll send you my address, too, so you can forward any bills for your time.”

  “There won’t be any bill, sweetheart. We’re so thankful for your care of Milo.”

  “That’s my job, though.”

  “Let me do mine for you. It’s a fair trade.”

  “Thank you again, Elena. I might just sleep tonight for the first time in weeks.”

  “You rest easy, and I’ll call you tomorrow after I talk to what’s-his-name.”

  That makes me laugh for the first time in longer than I can remember. Except when I’m with Milo. I laugh a lot with him. “I’ll look forward to your call. If I don’t answer, it’s because I’m at work. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.”

  I’m so relieved to have her on the job that I feel like I can breathe for the first time since that process server all but attacked me yesterday. It’s been a very long time since anyone went to bat for me the way Milo and his mother are. I’ve been so alone since my parents died, even when Jared and I were together, which should’ve been a red flag. Hindsight has been a bitch since the haze of grief over my canceled wedding and failed relationship has lifted.

  When I get home, I scan copies of every page of the ten-page lawsuit and send those to her. Jared’s last name is Allen, and I’ve enclosed his contact info. I’m Gianna Lombardi. Again, I’m so, so grateful for your help.

  Elena writes back a few minutes later. Got it. I’ll call him in the morning and make his day. Will keep you posted. Let me know if you have anything in writing about his willingness to pay for the wedding. That will help.

  I’m going to look tonight. Will send you anything I have.

  She responds with a thumbs-up.

  Now I’m glad I didn’t delete every message I’ve ever gotten from Jared, as I was tempted to do when he tearfully told me—in the vestibule of the church where our wedding was supposed to have been happening—he couldn’t go through with the wedding and thought we should take a break from each other to “contemplate our futures.” I was completely blindsided. Before he said those things, I’d had no idea that he was having second thoughts or cold feet or whatever it was that caused him to pull the rug out from under me at our wedding.

  The humiliation was compounded by the fact that everyone I knew was on the other side of the closed doors waiting for me to make my grand entrance. Four of my closest friends paid five hundred dollars each for dresses they got to wear for an hour, not to mention the cost of the shower and bachelorette party they had for me in South Beach. When I think of that, I feel sick to my soul. In the weeks following that awful day, I returned all the expensive gifts they and others had given me at my shower, as well as the wedding gifts that had begun to arrive in the days before the implosion.