We arrived at my apartment at one o'clock in the morning and were both bone tired, but for some reason, Tene wanted to know every single detail about the Ryders, and I enjoyed giving her the lowdown. Jordan and his personal assistant had made sure that we had a private car waiting for us upon our arrival into the airport, which made our trip seamless.

We knew luxury. Tene and I had been born into luxury and had money. The difference was, where the Armstrong name was known in Rosendell and the few surrounding cities, CJW Investments was known on the world stage.

Private planes were not something we had access to. My father had chartered a plane a few times, but we had never owned our own. The Ryder brothers had money that only big boys played with.

I keyed into the condo and dropped my belongings on the floor. "Tene, we could get in a few hours before we head to the hospital." My mind was running like it was in a marathon, nonstop thoughts filtering through my head, but my body was so unbelievably exhausted I knew I was about to knock out standing up.

"Yeah, let's do that. Set your alarm and I'll set mine, too, just in case." She kicked off her shoes and readjusted her messy bun. "Crazy night, huh?"

"The craziest," I said. Every one of my muscles ached with fatigue from the long day.

She laughed to herself. "I can't believe Jordan Ryder is Cade's foster brother. What’re the chances?"

I laughed and walked to my bedroom where she followed. "Yeah, well what were the chances that I'd leave Roland for a tattooed bartender?"

She brought her hands to her lips to stifle her laughter. "Things are just so unpredictable."

I slipped on a T-shirt and shorts and chucked some clothes in Tene's direction.

"Angie ... I think I may have a crush on Jordan." Her voice was like a schoolgirl’s as she slipped on my clothes.

"Tene?" I lifted an eyebrow. "You've always stalked Jordan Ryder, so nothing has changed."

We headed to the bathroom and brushed our teeth in front of the double sinks. I didn't know if I should’ve been worried that Tene had extra toothbrushes in her purse. I knew she had quite a few sleepovers and didn't know if that was the reason, or if she always wanted to be prepared.

"He's much hotter in person."

"Yeah, he is," I agreed.

We both slipped into my bed, facing each other.

"His eyes,” she sighed. “He has sex eyes."

Every single one of my bones wanted to go into deep slumber. "I can't believe you told him you didn't watch TV and pretended not to know who he was." I yawned.

We both laughed softly.

"That was pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah, it was."

We watched each other for a few seconds, then I yawned again, which was followed by her yawn.

Sleeping in one bed together reminded me of our teenage years when Tene would hop in my bed after a date and gush about her latest boy toy. Oh, how times had changed.

Her eyes fell shut and so did mine. Tiredness was taking us both under.

"Angie?"

"Mmm?"

"I've never seen you this in love,” she said sincerely. “And I've known you all my life."

My eyes popped open to assess her face, but her eyes were still shut. Her words confirmed what reigned in my heart.

"I'm happy you're happy,” she added. “You and Cade just ... fit. And it made me realize ..." she said, whisper soft, already dozing off. "You and Roland never did."

Her approval blanketed me in warmth, and I smiled, snuggling closer to my sissy. Then I fell asleep, dreaming that I was in Cade's arms.

* * *

Our alarms both sounded at 6 a.m., and we bolted from the bed, delirious from the lack of sleep and anxious to see Dad. We were silent as we approached Rosendell Central Hospital, both of us too preoccupied and worried to speak.

This high-risk surgery would open my father's heart today, unblock his arteries and fix him up, or ... I didn't like to think of the “or.” I refused to think of the “or.”

After his heart attack and multiple stents put in to unblock his arteries, this had to work. "Everything is going to be okay," I said as Tene drove like a maniac into the hospital parking lot and shifted my car into park.

"It will," she said.

Though neither of us had gusto in our voice. Our words were merely words without the strength behind them.

When we walked into the hospital, Tene reached for my fingers just as we did when we were younger, and she was ushering me to cross the street. This time was different. It felt like she needed my hand to comfort her, for the security that nothing would run us over.

I squeezed her fingers in return, and, before we entered his room, we put on our happy faces. This was what my father needed. He hated us worrying about him, and I didn't want to give him another thing to weigh him down right before he went into surgery.

Our smiles were big, but both of our palms were slick with sweat.

We walked in together and dropped our hands to see our mother and Nana sitting in the corner. Nana was holding her rosary, reciting Hail Marys that we could hear out loud.

Tene's smile was plastered on her face, but her step faltered, and my face fell. She had always been a better actress than me. I’d been prepared for him to be in bed. I’d been prepared to see both my mother and Nana in the room with him. What I hadn’t been prepared to see was him hooked up to machines, an oxygen mask on his face and for my powerful father to look completely helpless.

A small cry escaped my mouth. "Dad!" There was no way I could disguise my worry as I rushed toward him and dropped to his chest. "Daddy."

My mom cowered, hugging herself as though she was two seconds away from falling apart. She was built like Tene, unable to show emotion, which made this so much worse. She turned around so we wouldn't be able to see her break down, but it was the light shake of her shoulders that told me she was far from okay.

I readjusted myself against his chest, making sure not to interfere with any tubes attached to him.

"Don't cry for me, Angelica." His voice mimicked the “Don't cry for me, Argentina” song.

It was meant to cheer me up, but it only increased the dread in every fiber of my being. "You're going to be fine," I said, trying to convince my own self. Maybe with repetition, I’d believe it.

"Of course, I am." His breaths came out in short puffs, as though he was using all his energy to speak. The gusto behind my father's normally powerful voice was absent, buried under the tubes that tied him up like a cobweb.

"Just save your energy because you'll need it after this surgery, and then I’m going to kick your butt in golf."

A chuckle escaped him and then a sigh, as though it hurt to laugh. "Where did you go, honey?"

I didn't answer because I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to tell the truth, either.

I swallowed. "Dad, I just want you to get well and not worry about me. I'm okay. I'll be fine."

I rested my head on his chest, afraid he'd be able to read the lie in my eyes.

"I always worry about you. And Tene, and, most especially, your mother." His hand tenderly stroked my hair, and I didn’t want to move. "I'm so proud of you, little girl. For the person you've become. The way you've taken over the business."

I stifled a cry. "Dad ... You're not dying. Don't you dare talk like that."

"I know, but I feel like before I go into this surgery, I wanted to say that." I lifted my glistening eyes to him, and he brushed a tear from my cheek. "Don't cry, baby girl. I'm not leaving anytime soon. I'm going to walk you down the aisle, deliver you to Roland, and watch you get married and pop out those grandkids," he said with a weak grin.

"Dad ..." I squeezed his hand in mine, not wanting to let go when there was a knock at the door.

A nurse popped in. "Mr. Armstrong. The doctor will be in to talk to you and prep you for surgery." She offered him, then the rest of us, her cheery, professional smile before approaching him and tinkering with his cords and checking his vitals.

I wanted to hold up my hand and tell the world to take a time out. I wanted a few more seconds with my Dad, to speak to him, to bask in his company.

A knock on the door and the doctor stepping into the room had my heart beat racing. "Mr. Armstrong, how are you feeling today?"

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

"Daddy, I love you."

"Why is it like you're the one saying goodbye?" he joked.

"I'm not." I squeezed his hands harder as my mother, Tene, and Nana approached his bed to give my father kisses.

We watched them wheel my dad, the patriarch of our family, out of the room and down the hall. And then we waited in the waiting room.

Minutes ticked by. Then hours. The surgery was supposed to last two hours, but time dragged, like watching ice melt or paint dry.

I sat, stood, stretched, and did everything possible not to stare at the clock that ticked molasses slow.

One cup of coffee. Two. Three. And still no word from the doctor.

I sat in silence between my mother and Tene. Nana was still heavily praying, her rosary in hand, her eyes shut tightly.

Five hours later, when the doctor walked through the door, we all stood automatically. The air thinned with our worry, our whole lives held by the news he had for us. At any moment, he could drop the atomic bomb or allow our airways to open and breathe again.

When he smiled brightly, we all seemed to take a breath together. "The surgery was successful,” he said. “There were no complications, and he is in recovery now. Mr. Armstrong is going to be just fine."

There was a pause as if we needed to take it all in, then I was hugging my sister, my mom, kissing Nana's cheek. We were one big bubble of love.

My mother's arms were wrapped tightly around herself. "He's going to be okay?" Her fingers flew to her parted lips before she bowed her head and started to shake. "Thank God."

I was about to console her, do my job when Tene held up a hand for me to stop me in my spot with a tenderness in her eyes that wasn’t usually there. She placed a gentle hand on our mom's shoulder, and, when my mother lifted her head, Tene wrapped her hands around her. "He's going to be okay, Mom."

For the first time in a very long time, my mom openly wept, in front of us, in front of the doctor, in front of everyone, and in Tene's arms.