“I don’t. But I also don’t believe in God. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go to church and pray if it meant keeping Cammi safe,” I tell him. I did pray. When she collapsed, when her heart stopped beating right in front of me, I prayed.

Did that happen to her because of the curse? Possibly. I know it was my fault she experienced so much emotional trauma that her heart gave up on beating. I will live with that knowledge for the rest of my life. I will also spend the rest of our lives doing everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen ever again.

“Where is Mrs De Bellis anyway?” Marcus asks.

“Meeting Scarlett for lunch on campus.” I don’t know what to think of Cammi’s friend.

She’s… outspoken and I get the feeling she doesn’t like me at all. Not that I give a shit if Cammi’s friends like me. I don’t think any of them do. And I’m okay with that. But it sucks for Cammi. I know she loves her friends. I also know she’d drop them in a heartbeat if I asked her to. Not that I would ever do that to her. It’s just something I know. A fact. My wife will always pick me.

She loves me to a fault. I’ve always known that, and I’m conscious of not taking advantage of that love. That said, it goes both ways. If Cammi asked me to leave everyone I know, I would. I would go anywhere with her. I will always choose her above anyone else.

“So, the curse… Did something happen to make you think that you need a cure?” Marcus asks me.

“Besides my mother coming back from the dead?” I raise a brow at him.

“First of all, she didn’t come back from the dead. She just never died to begin with. Second—actually, I don’t have a second.” He shrugs.

“Gio’s agreed to arrange a meeting with her.” I want the meeting. I want answers. But what if talking to her is a bad omen?

“You want to know her?”

“Not particularly.” I’m indifferent. I don’t have any feelings towards the woman who gave birth to me other than curiosity. I don’t remember her. I guess it’s harder for Gio and Santo. They have memories the rest of us don’t.

My phone lights up with Cammi’s picture. Swiping the answer button, I bring it to my ear.

“Hey, how’s lunch?” I ask, my pulse racing because whenever I’m not with her, I’m waiting for that phone call, the one that tells me her heart has stopped again.

“I came home. What are you up to?” she says.

“I’m at Marcus’s. Why’d you go home? What’s wrong?”