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Valentina

“Val?” The concern in her voice shredded the fragile composure I’d just begun to gather.

I swallowed hard and immediately gave myself away.

A heavy silence followed. Then, “Oh no.”

Two words. And somehow, they made me cry harder.

“Val?”

I laughed through my sobs, a broken, pathetic sound. “I hate this.”

Her voice softened. “I know.”

“I hate this so much.”

“I know.”

I covered my eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No.”

My voice cracked. “No, I really can’t.”

Silence. Not the uncomfortable kind.

Madison had mastered the art of simply being there.

“I just left the hospital.”

Another pause.

“How was he?”

I closed my eyes. His image flooded me, smaller. Weaker. Dying.

The word still felt like a cruel joke.

“He wants me to get married.”

Madison’s silence stretched... dangerously long. That should’ve been my first warning.

“He what?”

“He wants to walk me down the aisle.”

“Oh.”

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah. Oh.”

I wiped my face.

“He won’t let it go.”

“Val—”

“No.” I straightened, frustration finally breaking through the grief. “I’m thirty-four years old.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Also correct.”

"I don't even want a boyfriend." I groaned. “You’re not helping.”

“Honestly, I’m just impressed no one’s managed to ask you out.”

I barked a laugh. “People are terrified of me.”

“You threatened to buy a competitor’s company and fire their entire executive team because they insulted one of your authors.”

“He deserved it.”

“He absolutely deserved it.”

Despite everything, I smiled, just a little.

Madison’s voice softened. “But your father isn’t asking for forever.”

My smile faded. “I know.”

The words cracked and fell like fragile glass. “He just wants one thing before he dies.”

And there it was.

The truth neither of us wanted to say aloud. The reason this hurt so much.

It wasn’t an impossible dream.

It wasn’t money or fame.

It was one simple wish.

I just had no idea how to make it come true.

The silence stretched between us, thick, heavy, and suffocating.

It was the kind of silence that pressed on your chest and made every breath feel like wading through water. Painful. Dangerous.

Because the longer I sat there, lost in the hollow space between heartbeats, the harder it became to breathe at all.

I glanced up at the clock on my dashboard. The numbers glared back: 2:43 p.m.

Three editorial meetings.

Two contract negotiations.

A conference call with a film studio.

And roughly seven hundred emails waiting like a tidal wave.

Good.

Work was something I could handle. It made sense. It had answers. It had solutions.

Dead fathers and impossible wishes? They had none.

I drew in a slow, deliberate breath. Then another.

By the third inhale, the tears had stilled.

By the fourth, the trembling in my hands began to fade.

By the fifth…

The wall was back.

Not gone. Not defeated. Just locked away again.

Tucked neatly into the mental box labeled: Deal with later.

I straightened my spine, wiped the last stubborn traces of mascara from beneath my eyes, and tried to summon the calm I so desperately needed.

“Val?” Madison’s voice was cautious, gentle, threading through the line like a lifeline.

I reached into my purse for a compact mirror. The woman who stared back was raw and worn but exhaustion was something I could fix.

Grief, though? Grief was a different beast entirely.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Silence stretched again. Then, “No.”

I blinked, stunned. “No?”

“No.”

I laughed, brittle, sharp, incredulous. “Madison Reed, did you just say no?”

“Absolutely.”

I stared at the phone, sensing the offended edge in her voice.

“You literally just left the hospital.”

“Correct.”

“You’re crying.”

“Was crying.”

“Val.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

I snapped the compact shut with a sharp click. “I have meetings.”

“I'll cancel them.”

“No.”

“Reschedule.”

“No.”

“Delegate.”

“No.”

Madison groaned, loud enough that I nearly pulled the phone away from my ear to protect my sanity. “You are impossible.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Usually by me.”

“Usually by you.”

Another sigh. Then, softer, “You don’t have to do this.”

I closed my eyes for just a second.

Because if anyone could see through my carefully constructed façade, it was Madison.

The truth was... She was wrong.

I did have to do this.

Because sitting in that hospital room, waiting for my father to die, watching every second tick away like grains of sand through a broken hourglass?

That would destroy me.

Slowly.

Piece by piece.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

At least at work, there were problems to solve.

Authors who needed me.

Deals waiting to be closed.

Books waiting to be published.

At work, I wasn’t helpless.

At work, I wasn’t watching the most important person in my life slip away, day by agonizing day.

“I need something to do.” The words slipped out quieter than I meant.

The line went silent. Because Madison understood.

"I'll have coffee waiting."

I smiled despite myself. "You're the best."

"I know."

"And Mads?"

"Yeah?"

I stared through the windshield toward the hospital entrance. Toward the doors my father would eventually walk through for the last time. The thought nearly cracked my carefully rebuilt composure.

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

Madison didn't immediately have an answer, but after a moment, "Okay, hear me out... What if we hired someone?"

I blinked. "What?"

The smile in her voice was becoming increasingly concerning. "Hire one."

I pulled out of my parking space.

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

"But think about it."

I pointed at the windshield despite the fact she couldn't see me. "I'm hanging up."

"You need a husband."

"I do not need a husband."

"Your father disagrees."

"My father is dying."

"My point exactly."

I merged into traffic. "Madison."

"No, seriously." The fact she was still talking worried me. "People hire fake dates all the time."

"No, they don't."

"They absolutely do."

"No."

"Actors exist."

I laughed. "Are you suggesting I rent a husband?"

"I'm suggesting your father doesn't need to know."

I nearly missed my turn. "Madison Reed."

"Valentina Kane. Let me put out an ad at least. Maybe someone nice will pop up."

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"No, the dumbest thing I've ever heard was when you tried to survive on coffee and spite for three straight days."

"It worked."

"You hallucinated a conversation with a ficus plant."

"The plant had valid points."

Madison burst out laughing.

I hated that I was smiling.

Because she was ridiculous. And somehow still my best friend.

"You're not putting out an ad."

Silence.

My stomach dropped.

"Madison."

More silence.

"Madison."

She coughed. A guilty cough

.

The kind she used whenever she'd done something stupid.

Or was about to.

Or was actively doing.

"Oh my God."

"Before you get mad—"

I slammed on the brakes as traffic slowed. The SUV behind me immediately laid on the horn.

I didn't even notice.

"Madison."

"It was just a thought."

"You already did it."

"It may have happened."

I stared at the road. Completely speechless. For perhaps the first time in my adult life.

"You posted an advertisement."

"It was worded very professionally."

"Madison."

"Extremely professionally."

"MADISON!"