I send another text to Elena. He also told me he’d pay for any dress I wanted ($5000) and my four bridesmaids were out $500 each, as well as what they spent on my shower and bachelorette party. If you wanted to add that to the tab.

  Will do. Let me know if you think of anything else.

  That was it. The florist was another three thousand, but she insisted on payment in advance, so he’d already paid that.

  Elena sends another thumbs-up.

  It would be amazing if I could reimburse my four friends, two of whom I work with at Miami-Dade, for the money they spent on their dresses. When I think about the hideous and embarrassing task of canceling and returning everything, I imagine my grandmother and great-aunts in New York talking to each other about poor Gianna who got dumped by her fiancé practically at the altar.

  My father’s mother and her sisters, all of whom live on Long Island where I was born, are a catty bunch on a good day. They must’ve had a blast discussing my romantic disaster after they left the church when the wedding was called off. No wonder my parents moved south shortly after they got married. My mother had lasted a year dealing with that madness before she told my dad to get her out of there or she’d see him in divorce court.

  He wisely moved her to Miami, where my brothers were born. We saw his family once a year, if that, which was more than enough for us. After my parents died, I got a belly full of my grandmother and great-aunts and give thanks every day for my mom giving him that ultimatum. I invited them to the wedding out of respect for my late father and came to regret that, too.

  Thank God for my grandparents on my mother’s side, who were an incredible source of support to me and my brothers after we lost our parents. They live in Ohio and did whatever they could for us from afar. They even offered to bring the boys to live with them, but with them in ninth and eleventh grades, they hadn’t wanted to change schools on top of everything else. Which left me in charge of two grieving teenage boys who refused to grant me any authority over them even though I was their legal guardian.

  That was fun.

  Not.

  Speaking of not fun, I scroll through my old texts with Jared, starting with the engagement photo we sent to family and friends. Seeing that for the first time in months is like a punch to the gut. I want to tell that naïve girl to trust no one, not even him. I want to tell her to run for her life from him, but she wouldn’t have listened. She was so certain she’d found the person who was going to make her feel whole again, and the thought of living without Jared would’ve been impossible for her to fathom in the afterglow of his romantic, heartfelt proposal.

  The day after our engagement, we exchanged several texts about the wedding.

  Something small would be fine with me, I told him.

  No way! We’re only doing this once. I want the big deal for you.

  I don’t need that.

  I remember thinking at the time that while he thought he was being nice by saying that, he was also forgetting how hard it would be for me to host a big wedding without my parents there. With hindsight, I’ve realized that my tremendous loss never got much attention from him. He treated it like something that’d happened in the past, before we met, and didn’t affect the present or future. Jared still has all four of his grandparents and has never lost anyone close to him, so I gave him a pass on how he all but ignored my grief, which was another big mistake.

  Love made me stupid. I’ll never let that happen again.

  After scrolling through a week’s worth of texts with Jared, I find what I’m looking for—me asking him what he wanted to spend on the wedding and telling him with my brothers in college or about to be, I couldn’t contribute much of anything to the budget.

  Let’s keep it between 30 and 40K, he replied.

  I remember being astounded by those numbers. For real? I wrote back. Wouldn’t we be better off putting that toward a house or condo?

  We can do that, too.

  I knew he did well in medical sales, but I’d had no idea he made that kind of money.

  Are you sure that’s what you want? I asked him. I’d be fine with something simple. In fact, I’d wanted to say I’d prefer it since the two people I loved the most couldn’t be there.

  I’m sure, he replied. You deserve the best, and I want to give it to you.

  I have no idea how we went from him saying that to telling me he’d decided he couldn’t go through with the wedding. I was so shocked and blindsided that I failed to ask why. What did it matter? In one ten-minute conversation, our relationship was over, and I was more humiliated than I’d ever been.

  After scrolling further, I find the conversation where we agreed on a wedding venue and the message in which he told me to go ahead and sign the contract while he was on a work trip to Vegas.

  I take screenshots of all the relevant conversations and send them to Elena.

  This is exactly what we need. I know it couldn’t have been easy to revisit those texts, but they’ll help us get this taken care of. More to come tomorrow!

  I’m weak with relief to have her on my side, and I need to tell Milo how much this means to me. I decide to call him.

  “Hey,” he says, sounding sleepy. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Nah, I was just dozing while watching SportsCenter. What’s up?”

  “Your mom is amazing, and so are you.”

  “She’s the best, right? I was thinking earlier that I almost feel sorry for your ex with her coming after him.”

  I laugh at the way he says that. “I think she’s exactly what he deserves, and I’m so deeply grateful to have her help with this. Thank you again for connecting me with her.”

  “I’m happy to have been able to help you. Let me guess, your story made my mom furious, right?”

  “It did.”

  “I figured it would. She would tell you that this is the stuff she loves about her job, helping to right terrible wrongs.”

  “I feel so relived just knowing she’s on it, and she’s refusing to let me pay her.”

  “Not surprised,” Milo says with a chuckle. “Did she tell you that any friend of mine is a friend of hers, especially since you took such amazing care of me in the hospital?”

  “Almost verbatim.”

  “There you have it. That’s the way my family is. They see someone in need, and they do what they can to help.”

  “That’s rather amazing. Everyone who works on the ward is sad that you’ve moved to rehab, because they all liked you so much, but they also loved the food your family brought in.”

  Laughing, he says, “It’s okay to say they’ll miss the food more than me.”

  “They might, but I won’t. You were my favorite patient ever.”

  “Wow. That’s quite an honor. You must see a lot of patients.”

  “I do, and not all of them are as nice to me as you were. And the families… Yours was the best, too.”

  “I can’t believe anyone would be nasty to you when you’re caring for them the way you do.”

  “Believe it. Nurses take a lot of abuse from patients and their families. Some of them aren’t satisfied no matter how much we do.”

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

  “It’s fine. Goes with the job. We had a weekend workshop in nursing school that covered patient and family relations, so I was somewhat prepared. Sometimes it’s difficult to deal with, though, especially when you’re doing everything you can for your patients.”

  “I have no doubt you give them all a hundred percent.”

  “Some of them only get seventy percent,” I say with a laugh. “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  “Your secrets are safe with me.”

  The warmest feeling of peace comes over me when he says that, which has me immediately sitting up straighter and shaking it off. Look at what happened the last time I allowed a man to become too important to me. This man is different. I already know that, but I won’t be a fool again, not even for someone as wonderful as Milo. “I should get going to bed since your mom has seen to it that I’ll actually sleep tonight.”

  “I hope you can get some rest.”

  “Me, too. Thank you again. It means so much to me that you wanted to help. I’ll see you tomorrow after my shift.”

  “If you’re too tired, don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good night, Gianna.”

  “Night, Milo.”

  As I end the call, I remind myself that even with a nice guy like Milo, I’m never safe to let down my guard.

  * * *

  ELENA

  I sit at the table with my first cup of coffee and send a text to Milo, asking if he slept at all. The halo makes everything difficult for him, especially sleeping. He doesn’t respond right away, so I hope that means he’s getting some much-needed rest. Even weeks later, my nerves are still shredded from that awful night. I’ll never forget the phone call from our daughter Dee, telling us that our sweet Milo had been shot.

  Of all things.

  Just when you think you’ve seen everything as a parent to four adults, something happens to make you realize you haven’t seen anything yet.

  Lorenzo and I have never prayed harder than we did for our youngest and sweetest child. Parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, and neither of us would ever admit to such a thing, but we believe our three eldest kids would agree that Milo is everyone’s favorite. The thought of life without him is simply unfathomable.

  As is the thought of life without our Nico, for whom the bullet was meant. He committed the “crime” of loving another man’s ex-wife. I shiver at the thought of how close we came to utter catastrophe. And we’d thought my breast cancer diagnosis was catastrophic. Compared to losing one of our precious sons to senseless violence… I can’t bear to think about what a close call we had.

  Lorenzo comes up behind me and massages my shoulders. “Why are you thinking about the bad stuff when our boy is doing so much better?”

  After thirty-five years of marriage, I’m not surprised he knows exactly what I’m thinking about. “I wish I could forget it.”

  “You will. In time.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this one.”

  “Milo wouldn’t want us upset and dwelling on what might’ve happened. He’d want us focused on the future and helping him get back on his feet.”

  “I’m doing that, too. And so are you. I feel you tossing and turning at night.”

  “I dream about it. Doesn’t end well in my dreams.”

  I reach up to place my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, love. It’s a terrible thing to have weighing on you.”

  “It is indeed, but I need to take my own advice and focus on the good news. Our boy is making a splendid recovery thanks to Jason and the other medical staff. He’ll be home soon, and we can dote on him to our heart’s content.”

  “I can’t wait for that. In the meantime, I’m going to fix this mess for his new friend, Gianna.”

  “He’s awfully sweet on that pretty nurse.”

  “He sure is. I’m looking forward to making this call to her ex.”

  Laughing, Lorenzo bends to kiss the back of my neck, making me shiver the way he has from the start. “I’ll leave you to that, my bloodthirsty Doberman, and I’ll say a prayer for mercy for your victim.”

  I laugh along with him. He bestowed that nickname early in our careers and gave me a stuffed Doberman for Christmas one year that still sits on our bed. “Don’t bother praying for him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  “All right, then. I won’t. I’m going to the office for a few hours to check in, and then we can take dinner to Milo?”

  We run a legal and accounting practice together, but we’ve recently taken a step back from the day-to-day management of the firm as we prepare to retire in the next few years.

  “That sounds good. I’m working from here today.”

  He leans in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

  After he leaves, I refill my coffee and return to my post at the kitchen table. As I put through the call to Jared Allen, I experience the jolt of adrenaline that comes with doing the job I’ve loved for thirty years.

  “This is Jared.”

  “Hi, Jared, my name is Elena Giordino, and I’m an attorney representing Gianna Lombardi.”

  “An attorney representing Gianna?” he asks in a slightly high-pitched tone.

  “Yes, that’s what I said. You may not be aware that the venue where your wedding was set to be held is now suing her for breach of contract.”

  “I, uh, I didn’t know that.”

  “That’s odd because she’s left several messages for you after being served with the suit. I was going through your text messages with Gianna about the wedding—”

  “Those are private! She had no right to share them with you.”

  “She’s being sued, Jared. For forty-five thousand dollars plus legal fees after you talked her into a big wedding she didn’t want and then called it off the day of the event—and by the way, who does that? I’m sure you can image that Gianna is extremely upset and afraid of being ruined financially since she was the one who signed the contract for the wedding that didn’t happen.”

  After a pause in which he has nothing to say, I press on. “You should know that we’re preparing to sue you since we have evidence that you agreed to pay for the wedding. Your decision to cancel it at the last minute doesn’t change anything. The lawsuit paperwork is being drawn up by my associates as we speak.” That’s not true—yet—but he doesn’t need to know that. “You can expect service by the end of next week at the latest. Oh, and don’t bother trying to hide from my process servers. They can find anyone. You have a good day now.”

  I end the call before he can say anything else. I’ve put the ball in his court. Hopefully, he’ll do the right thing and take care of the bill from the venue to end the legal machinations.

  After a sip of coffee, I dash off a text to Gianna. Morning! I spoke with him and let him know we’re going to sue him imminently unless he settles with the venue and ended the call with that. Let’s see if he takes care of it today. If not, we’ll follow through with the lawsuit in the next week or so. Either way, he’s on notice that you’re being sued, you’ve retained counsel and you’re prepared to sue him to hold him to his promise to pay for the wedding. The next move is his. If he reaches out to you with outrage (fully expected), I would ignore him. Let me speak for you going forward.

  I’m in a videoconference meeting about another case an hour later when Gianna responds.

  I’ll never have the words to thank you for this, Elena. He did reach out, and he’s furious. As if this is somehow my fault. I took your advice and ignored his messages and calls.

  Do we need to be concerned about your safety?

  I don’t think so, but I also didn’t expect him to call off the wedding. I’ll be careful.

  Please do. And don’t hesitate to call the police if he tries to confront you.

  I won’t.

  I’m hoping you’ll hear that the tab with the venue has been settled and the lawsuit dropped. I’ll reach out to their counsel to let them know I’m representing you. Your job is to breathe and focus on your work and not worry about any of this. You’ve never been through this before (I assume), but this back-and-forth is perfectly routine in situations like this. Usually, the threat of being sued spurs someone who made promises he didn’t keep to do the right thing. I’ll let you know if there are any updates, but try not to worry. Hearing from a lawyer tends to move things along.

  Wow, you’re amazing. All this would be very interesting to me if it didn’t involve me being sued.

  Hahaha. It’s probably safe to be intrigued. With those text messages to prove he agreed to pay for the wedding, he knows he’s screwed. I expect him to do the right thing.

  Hearing that takes a hundred-ton weight off my chest.

  Hang in there. I’ll be back to you with any updates.

  Thank you again.

  No problem! Happy to help.

  I mean that. I love helping people like Gianna who find themselves in situations like this one through no fault of their own. I hate injustice and bullies and people who try to screw other people for sport. The most satisfying aspect of my career has been the pro bono work I’ve done mostly for women escaping difficult domestic situations.

  I’m so thankful that my future daughter-in-law, Sofia, is now divorced from the man who later shot my son. That monster is in jail pending trial for multiple felonies tied to Milo’s shooting.

  I hope he rots in prison.

  It’s not like me to be vindictive, but no one deserves to rot in jail more than Joaquín Diaz does.

  Though we wouldn’t have wanted Milo injured so grievously for any reason, we’re glad to know that Joaquín will likely spend decades in prison where he belongs so he can’t hurt anyone else, while Nico raises the man’s son as his own.

  Chapter 5

  GIANNA

  For the first time in weeks, I’m not crippled with anxiety. Even Jared’s hateful texts have no impact now that Elena is representing me. I have four patients today, so my shift passes in a blur of nonstop activity. I run myself ragged managing four very complicated cases in consultation with doctors, family members and my nursing colleagues.

  By the time I finish entering all my notes from the day into the patients’ charts, I’m an hour late leaving the ward. I take an elevator to the first floor, cross the lobby and then grab another elevator to the fourth floor of the hospital’s second tower, which houses the rehab facility. I’m exhausted, dying for a shower, some food and a big glass of wine, but I’d never disappoint Milo by failing to keep my promise to visit.