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Ididn’t tell anyone that the signature on Eddie Sanchez’s insurance policy was forged, not even Espo. I promised Rosa that I wouldn’t. That woman had been through enough. She had three young girls to look after and that insurance money would go a long way. I didn’t give a shit that it was the wrong thing for me to do, I would not tell. I would not take that money away from those girls.

A forged insurance policy. A million dollars. A dead husband. Was it possible that Eddie’s death had nothing to do with Roman?

Or did Roman have something to do with this mysterious policy?

My father had just left. I sat in an armchair by my living room window, staring out into the night. A fist rammed against the door.

Roman.

My heart rocketed into my throat. I smoothed down my hair as I hurried to the door and flung it open.

It wasn’t Roman. Everything alive in me sagged.

Nora didn’t wait for me to speak before she pushed past me into my apartment.

“Why don’t you come in then?” I muttered under my breath before shutting the door.

When I turned to face her, she had her arms crossed over her chest. “You’ve been walking around with that mopey look on your face for the last four weeks.”

After Roman left my apartment the night he broke my heart, Nora, like a bloodhound, had come over demanding to know details. I had made up some vague excuse, “our careers don’t match” as to why Roman and I ended our relationship.

She grabbed my cordless house phone and waved it at me. “Call him. Tell him you miss him.”

I wasn’t going to get her off my back unless I told her the truth. Or at least, some sort of semblance of truth. “Nora,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. If I revealed too much, the poor thing might have a heart attack. “Roman isn’t who you think he is.”

“I know exactly who Roman Tyrell is.”

I stared at her as my brain skipped like a scratch in a record. Nora couldn’t know know. If she knew she’d be yelling at me for putting myself in danger by associating with such a criminal.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Roman Tyrell, youngest son of Giovanni Tyrell. Public enemy number one according to your father. Did I miss anything?”

“But…” I shook my head, trying to knock this new piece of information into place. “I don’t understand. You knew who he was all along? Aren’t you mad at me?”

Nora tilted her head. “Did I ever tell you about Pappy?” Pappy had been her husband of almost thirty years. He’d passed away the year before I had moved into this building. Nora and I had connected over our shared experience of deep loss. In the years I’d known her, she rarely spoke about him.

I shook my head.

“My parents hated Pappy when they met him. He was dirt poor. He was a welfare kid with an absentee father who grew up on the wrong side of Verona.” Nora’s eyes turned misty and unfocused as if she were remembering. “But I loved that son of a bitch. He loved me. I didn’t care what anyone said about him; I knew he was a good man. He loved me, supported me, protected me until the day he died. I still love him.”

“I never knew.”

Nora narrowed her eyes at me. “I know you, girlie. You ain’t stupid. If you see something in Roman, that means that he’s fit to spend time with. He’s a good man too. No matter what anybody says.”

I let out a bitter laugh. Would she still say the same thing if she knew he had killed to protect me? “What I think of him doesn’t matter. It will never work between us.”

“If the love is strong enough, it will survive anything.”

“Except that he doesn’t love me.”

“Bullshit.”

“He ended it, Nora,” I cried with a frustrated smack of my palm against my thigh. The physical pain helped to distract me from the one in my heart. “He ended it. Why would he do that if he loved me?”

“Because he’s scared.”

“I’m not that scary,” I muttered.

“He’s not scared of you.” Nora let out a sigh. “The most terrifying thing any of us can do is to fall in love. Why do you think they call it ‘falling’ in love? The greater the love, the harder we will fight against it.”

Roman and I had been pushing and pulling against our feelings, against each other this whole time. Had he been falling in love too? Was this why it was all so…terrifying?

That was ridiculous. We’d been fighting against each other because we weren’t meant to be together. This thought was a knife that sliced the raw wound open again.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, tasting bitterness on my tongue. I wiped under my eyes, angry at my tears. “He’s gone.”

“He’ll be back.”

I shook my head, my heart weighed down with the knowledge that even though I would never give up on him, he had given up on us. “No, he won’t.”