His death shouldn’t be about me, but it’s feeling like that with every passing second. So what, Valentino isn’t supposed to eat whatever the fuck he wants on his End Day? All because of a surgery he wouldn’t even have on the brain if luck hadn’t thrown us together?

“That’s a devastating good point,” Dalma says.

“Nope, it’s not,” I say. “Valentino, if you want some motherfucking linguini, I’ll find you some motherfucking linguini.”

“No, really. I’ll live,” Valentino says. Then he pauses as he hears himself, now haunted by his own words. It’s wild how a simple sentiment takes on a new life when you’re dying. He brushes it off, something he’s going to have to do often if he’s going to make it through his End Day—I imagine. “I just want to go home and rest. Prepare the place for Scarlett. Then go to my photo shoot in the morning. My first campaign is a cool way to be immortalized.”

“Still got to throw some linguini into that plan,” I say. “Maybe some legit New York pizza if you’re into that.”

Dalma’s eyes are closed as she’s breathing into her cupped palms. She’s not keeping herself warm in this chilly room; she’s keeping herself shut. But her words break free. “I don’t want to sound heartless—”

“Off to a bad start,” I interrupt.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” Dalma talks with her hands a lot, and right now as she’s quiet and processing her next words, her hands are frozen in the air, just up until she’s going again. “Believe me, Valentino, I hate myself for saying what I’m about to say because this is such a gift you’re giving Orion. He’s my family, and I’m so protective of him so I got to say . . . I got to say that I’m really scared that you’ll jeopardize this operation if you leave the hospital. If something happens to you, then . . .”

Valentino’s head drops, like he’s being scolded. “I understand.”

“Obviously, we’ll hold off as long as we can for you to have time with your sister, but the most logical thing we can do is keep you here for the next few hours.”

Someone wanting to save my life has never felt so horrible.

“Dalma, I love you, but hard no on all this. We’re not giving Valentino deadlines on his End Day.”

Valentino fights back a yawn. “Dalma is right. I’m tired and not thinking clearly. Having dinner in the middle of the night or attending a photo shoot shouldn’t outweigh everything you’ll get to do with my heart.”