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Then he was gone.
His friend, Malachi, who’d waited for him since they were leaving together, waved and then they
both rounded the corner of the building, rendering me unable to see them any longer.
And the worst, most god awful feeling washed over me.
Panic set in, and my hands started shaking.
“Keep it together, girl,” my dad, Coke Solomon, warned.
I swallowed hard.
“The worst sense of foreboding just rocketed through me,” I rasped. “As if that’s the last time I’ll ever see them together.”
My dad’s arm went around my neck, and he pulled me into his hard chest.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “You just gotta have faith.”
Faith. Right.
I’d be faithful as fuck.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, feeling the tears start to well.
I was just about to turn around and leave when Luca came barreling around the corner.
My breath hitched, and my dad let me go.
Before I could even ask him what was up, he once again had me in his arms.
“One last hug,” he said breathlessly.
I laughed, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his temple, slightly dislodging his hat.
Then, just as quickly, he set me down.
“Now, I really have to go. Fuck, I’m late.”
Then, for good this time, he was gone.
I just had no idea how gone he really was.
***
One and a half years ago
I smiled, so happy to see my fiancé’s parents on the doorstep that I ran to them and wrapped them
in a hug without first taking in the look on both of their faces.
“I can’t believe y’all are here!” I cried out. “What are y’all doing here?”
I’d started my first year of residency just yesterday, and I was a mess.
After eight years of school crammed into five years—sometimes it really paid to be a genius—
one would think that residency training would be a piece of cake.
