Page 42

“Promise me you’ll fight your way back.”

The tears won’t stop.

He waits for another breath. “Promise me you’ll do all the things we dreamed about.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. Not without you.”

“You can.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “And you will.”

I look away because believing him feels like betrayal.

“This fucker called cancer already stole my life.” His breathing hitches, and he closes his eyes for a moment, gathering enough strength to continue. I wait until they open again. “I don’t want it to steal yours too.”

I break.

Completely.

“One day…” He swallows and takes another breath. “One day when I see you again, I want to hear about every adventure. I want to hear about the cookbooks, the people you met…” His voice cracks, and this time the silence stretches longer. “What it felt like to be a mom, and a grandmother. I want to know the life you lived here.”

I grab his hand and press it against my face.

“I don’t want any of that,” I cry. “I just want you.”

“I know, vita.” His eyes fill. “God, I know.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. He closes his eyes and breathes, and I wait for however long he needs.

When he opens them again, they find mine.

“But I need to know you’ll be okay.” His voice is so quiet I almost miss it. “Please, promise me you’ll live.”

I lean forward and press my forehead against his.

“I promise.” My voice is hoarse as I promise something I don’t think I could ever do.

Live without him.

He smiles.

The smallest smile.

But it’s there.

After a few moments, his eyes drift closed as sleep pulls him away again.

That night I don’t sleep. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It is slower and weaker, but it is still the song I know by heart.

I hold on to him as hard as I can without hurting him and don’t let go as I spend the whole night bargaining with God.

Not yet.

Please.

Not yet.

I’m not ready.

I’m not ready.