The flight was overbooked, so we spent it in separate aisles. I tried to distract myself with the magazines that Cassie had thoughtfully thrown in my purse, but mostly I obsessed over Roman: how he was feeling, whether or not he really wanted me here with him, when I would get to be alone with him. Inevitably, my thoughts turned to guilt for being more focused on our relationship than on Aba’s condition.

But all my doubts and insecurities vanished when I found him waiting for me at the top of the jet bridge. His face said everything I needed to hear to calm my fears. We were in this together, and we both finally realized it.

There was no time to stop at the hotel that Cassie had arranged for me. Instead, we headed straight to the hospital. Roman hadn’t received any more messages from the doctor, so we could only hope she hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. The halls of the hospital squeaked against our shoes, and there was a faint smell of bleach in the air. Most people felt uncomfortable in hospitals, but not me. I belonged here. Still, for the first time since my Dad died I felt nervous as a man in a white lab coat crossed to greet us at the door to Aba’s room. Thanks to my studiousness I understood bits of what he was saying, including the fact that visitors to this unit were limited to family only.

I pulled my hand from Roman’s, giving him a reassuring smile. He needed to be with Aba right now, and I wouldn’t go far. “I’ll wait outside. Right here.”

Roman shook his head, grabbing my hand and clasping it tightly as he said something quickly to the doctor. The other man nodded in understanding and motioned for us to enter the room. I didn’t have time to ask him what he’d said, and it hardly seemed important when I spotted Aba’s frail form in the hospital bed.

“He says she’s in critical condition. The damage to her heart was very severe,” he said in a whisper. “She’s not maintaining consciousness well.”

I didn’t need him to explain what that meant. We were lucky we got here when we did, because she wouldn’t last much longer. Roman dropped softly onto the bed, took her hand, and waited. In that moment I would have given anything for her to wake up, because the thought of him not getting to say goodbye was more than I could bear.

“Aba,” he said, but there was no response.

I placed a hand on his shoulder but said nothing.

“You have to wake up,” he said, his voice cracking. “Jess is here. We’re here together.”

Tears sat in a lump in my throat, and I tried to swallow against them. I’d only met Aba a few months ago, but she raised the man I loved and I wanted to know her longer.

“You were right,” Roman continued, “about her and me. You can’t walk away from love. I shouldn’t have tried to, but I don’t want you to worry. I won’t lose her again.”

He reached up and wove his fingers through mine, and it was there. The electric charge I always felt at his touch, but it had shifted. It had evolved into more—something deeper and harder to explain. It penetrated past my skin, into my blood and made a home in my bones. I had never felt anything like it before and with it came a sense of unshakable certainty—a pure, undeniable moment of clarity. This was it.

Roman was the one.

It was somehow truer than simply being in love, and the realization sucked the air from my chest.

“Bien.” Aba’s blessing was thick and cottony, and although she didn’t open her eyes, I rushed from Roman’s side to find her a cup of water.

The pitcher in her room was empty, so I caught Roman’s eye and pointed to it. He nodded and leaned in to speak with his grandmother.

The hallway was deserted, so I took my chances, hoping I would find a nurse or a bathroom or even a garden hose at this point. Anything to help Roman have more time with Aba. Rounding the corner, I knocked into a nurse. The pitcher fell to the floor and she bent to pick it up, popping back onto her feet and holding it out to me.

“Agua?” I asked, pointing to it.

“Para?”

“Room one twenty-seven.” I held up a hand to correct myself. “No, ciento veintisiete.” I’d probably butchered that but I was hoping my recent flirtations with a Spanish language learning app would pay off.

She nodded and took it from me. I tiptoed back to Aba’s room, but hesitated at the door. Roman and Aba were speaking in low voices while he stroked her hand. As much as I wanted to be there for him right now, I also wanted to give him privacy. I would be with him but I didn’t want to impose on the time he had left with her.

“Señora Markson?”

I turned to discover the nurse was speaking to me. She offered me the pitcher.

“Oh, no, I’m not…” I blushed at her assumption.

The nurse looked confused as I took the pitcher from her. “Tù eres la esposa de el?”

Esposa. I had never learned that word but it seemed pretty obvious.

Before I could respond, an alarm sounded down the hall and she dashed off, leaving me with a pitcher full of water and a red face. I guess it was natural to assume I was Roman’s wife since I was here at his side, but part of me was relieved that Roman hadn’t heard it. Not while we were on the shaky legs of our newborn reconciliation.

When I took the pitcher inside, Aba was awake and she smiled at me, even now she lit up the room. It was hard to imagine she was in such bad shape, but heart conditions were tricky like that. I couldn’t help but hold out hope that she might get better.

“I’m happy you’ve come,” she said to me as I hovered next to Roman. As soon as she said it, she began speaking Spanish again too quickly for my minimal knowledge of the language. Roman nodded, a grin breaking over his face as she spoke my name, one of the few words I caught. Reaching out he tugged me down beside him and I sat on the edge of the bed, balancing carefully so I wouldn’t fall off or disturb her. Everything about this moment was awkward and uncomfortable and painful, except that I was next to him and that meant that no matter what, it was going to be okay.

When we reached the hotel that night, exhaustion had set in, making us equal turns somber and inappropriately giddy. This time Cassie had snagged us a reasonable room in the main hotel that we’d stayed at in December. Ducking into the bathroom I took the opportunity to comb my hair, which was a tangled mess from the flight, and brush my teeth. Despite the travel and emotional roller coaster I’d endured today, I was wide awake. My body was nearly numb from weariness, but my brain was on full alert. I wasn’t certain if I was waiting for the other shoe to drop or if I was simply overwhelmed by everything that had transpired in a matter of hours.

When Roman took over the bathroom, I stepped onto the balcony for fresh air. Our room might be average, but the view wasn’t. I couldn’t step onto the sandy beach from up here, but the salty scent of ocean water perfumed the air. The smell reminded me of splashing with Roman in the water. We’d made love in that ocean, holding back promises we knew we couldn’t make. I was ready to make them now.

The door slid open behind me, and then he was there, the warmth of his presence augmenting the calm I found in our ocean view.

“How are you?” I asked in a soft voice.

“I’ve never felt so happy and broken-hearted at the same time,” he admitted. “Tell me something funny, so I don’t feel this horrible pressure anymore.”

“The nurse thought I was your wife,” I said, laughing as I leaned against him on the balcony.

The breeze caught my hair and blew it against my face, but Roman brushed it back and nuzzled into my neck.

“That’s because I told them you were my wife,” he whispered. “They weren’t going to let you into her room if you weren’t related.”

My pulse sped up, my mind blanked as my heart pounded in my chest.

“It’s funny,” he continued, brushing his mouth over my bare skin and stopping at my ear. “The lie slipped out so smoothly that I almost believed it myself, and then as I sat with Aba and spoke with her about you, it hit me. Saying you were my wife wasn’t a lie at all. It was a wish.”

The confession hung between us, but it didn’t weigh down the air or make it hard for me to breathe. It simply sent a pang trembling through my chest. By the time Roman took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him, tears pooled in my eyes. When he cupped my chin softly and brought my gaze to his, they spilled past my lashes. I understood what he meant about the wish. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but our relationship had evolved, morphed into something more than either of us had expected. I’d tried to fight it when I thought it might hurt him. Now that there was nothing standing in our way, I don’t know why I ever thought I could. This was forever. I’d felt it when Cassie told me about Aba, and at the airport, and at the hospital. I felt it now.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question or a command when he said it. It was fact. Truth. The answer we’d both been searching for, but had been too obstinate to see.

My lips opened to give him the answer he didn’t need to hear, but he placed a finger over them before I could speak.

“I know what you’re going to say, Jessica Stone, because I know. I know,” he said. “So I have a request. Marry me tomorrow. Don’t make me wait another day for you, mi bella. I know I’m not perfect. I know there are a million logical reasons to wait, and I don’t give a damn about any of them. Be my partner—to have and to hold.”

I could barely speak through my tears, but I managed a small smile. “From this day forward?”

“For better or worse,” he promised me.

“Until death do us part?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes never leaving his.

“Not even then.” His lips sealed over mine, and the world melted away, leaving only him and me, promises on our tongues and stars over our heads.