“‘Don’t cry for me, Argentina,’” he murmurs, referencing one of my favorite musicals. “‘The truth is, I never left you.’”

Even now, he’s trying to make me laugh. He gets me. He’s always just gotten me. Who else ever could, the way he does?

I want to be grateful about this. But it hurts to goddamn bad.

I squeeze his hand so hard it must hurt. “Don’t leave me, Adrian. Please. You promised you’d never leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says. “If I could stay, I would. I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I’m not leaving you, Nadia.”

“But you are.” These are not words; they are sobs that sound like words. “And I don’t know how to live without you.”

He’s suddenly fierce. “You make me a promise, Nadia Bell. And this promise, you keep. After I’m gone, you remember this promise, and you fucking keep it. Swear.” His eyes blaze.

I’m startled by the ferocity. “Okay, I—I swear.”

“Live,” he snarls. “You don’t stop living. You don’t fucking give up. Mourn me, as long as it takes. Remember me.” He clutches my hands in his, so hard my joints and bones throb. “Love again. Don’t spend the rest of your life alone.”

I shake my head. “I can’t—you’re my husband, Adrian. How can I…?” My voice cracks, breaks, and words fail me.

“Promise. You have to promise, and not just to get me to shut up. Promise and mean it.”

I can barely see through the tears. My head drops, touches his chest. I’m wracked, shaking. “I can’t, Adrian. You’re it.”

“No. I’m telling you. Promise me. Please, Nadia. It’s what I want for you. As your husband, as your best friend. I don’t want you to be alone. Promise me.” His voice crumbles. “Please.”

I can’t look at him. “Okay. Okay, Adrian. I promise.”

“Look at me.” He touches my chin. “I know when you’re lying.”

I look at him—it takes everything, but I do. “I promise.”

He nods. His head goes slack against the pillow. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you quote Star Wars at me, mister.”

A soft huff. “Fine. I love you too.” A long, long, long silence. “I’m ready, now.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“You…you know me too well, don’t you?” Another silence. “Fine. I’m not. I never was and I never will be. But…I think I’m as ready as you can get.”

It takes me several minutes to compose myself enough that I can see what I’m doing. I find the pills, the Nuclear Option. Whatever the fuck it is. I still don’t look.

He takes it.