When we arrive at the hospital, Valentino is whisked away for a scan of his brain while I search his bag for clues regarding his next of kin.

There must be a family out there who'd want to know about the accident. But there's nothing, other than his cell phone—which I don't have access to—a beach towel, sunscreen, and a magazine with the glistening image of his half-naked body on the cover.

"Valentino's lucky you caught his attention. The impact of that car could have been worse if he hadn't stopped." It's the nurse who checked him in. "Any luck getting in touch with his family?"

When I shake my head, she gives me a funny look. "That's okay. Police will know how to find them. But I have a question," she says tentatively. "When the paramedics called him in, they said you were his fiancé. How long have you been engaged?"

The blood drains from my head. "It's sort of a ... new development."

She nods, her pink-dipped ponytail bouncing behind her. "You're a lucky woman. Valentino De la Mora is the number one fitness model in Southern Florida. Maybe even the world," she says with a tinge of longing. "Must be nice waking up to that gorgeous face every day."

The ER room suddenly feels like a sauna, and I pull at the neck of my high visibility T-shirt. "Yeah. It's, um, really something."

A barrage of voices erupt in the distance. They grow closer until the curtain separating this bay from the next swings to the side. A middle aged man, who bears a striking resemblance to Valentino, enters with a woman and two identical teenage girls. They survey the room with frantic expressions.

"Where is Valentino De la Mora? They said he'd be in here," the lady demands, her accented voice cracking with emotion.

The man brings her fingers to his lips. "Calm down, Marisol. Let's keep level heads until we know what's going on."

She yanks her hand from his. "Alejandro, how am I supposed to keep calm when our first born is in the hospital?"

"You must be Mr. and Mrs. De la Mora," the nurse says. "My name is Samantha. I'm one of the ER nurses."

"How's our son? Can we see him? Where is he?" the woman rattles off without taking a breath. "And can someone please explain how Valentino got hit by a car? He was staring at his phone, wasn't he? I always say that thing will be the death of him, but does he listen? Of course not—I'm only his mother. Thirty-two excruciating hours of labor and this is the thanks I get!"

Samantha holds up her hands in polite surrender. "He's in the middle of a test that will show the extent of damage to his brain. It'll be just a few more minutes, but you're welcome to wait here if you'd like."

"Brain damage. Did you hear that, Alejandro? Our baby has brain damage!"

"We don't know that yet." Mr. De la Mora wraps his wife in a hug. "Yes, we'll wait here." As an afterthought, he turns to me just as I'm attempting to creep from the room. "Who are you?"

I stop in my tracks, my heart drumming out a crazy rhythm in my chest. "I'm, um, Molly Simpson, sir," I say, avoiding his gaze. "I was there when Valentino was hit."

Valentino's mother releases her husband and reaches for me, her cold hands clamping down on my wrists. "You were with him? How did he seem? Is he in any pain?"

I shake my head, unsure of how to answer without throwing her into a full-blown panic. "I don't know. He's been unconscious."

The twins gasp. "Still?" they say together.

Mr. De la Mora drapes an arm over each of their shoulders and brings them close. "That can't be good. How long has it been now?"

"He probably has a concussion, which is expected after an injury like that," Samantha explains. "But it would have been a lot worse if his fiancé hadn't intervened."

My entire body goes numb.

"Fiancé?" A crease appears between Mr. De la Mora's eyes. "Since when is Val engaged, and why am I always the last to know these things?"

The family gapes at each other in confusion before slowly turning to me.

I give them a weak smile and somehow muscle down a maniacal laugh, which is my typical response in stressful situations.

The twins' mouths drop open in unison. "You're going to marry," one begins, "our brother?" the other finishes.

Their eyes hold mine like they're waiting for an answer. Which, I suppose, they are.

So I tell them the truth. "I've been dreaming about it ever since I first laid eyes on him."

Silence.

And then more silence.

Finally, Valentino's mom clasps her hands together. "Do you know what this means, Alejandro? We're going to be grandparents!"

The air rushes from my lungs in a single involuntary breath. "No, I'm not preg—"

She leans in and envelopes me in a hug so tight I need to breathe through my mouth to suck in oxygen. "Of course, you're not," she coos. "I just meant one day. You and Valentino are going to make the most beautiful babies!"

Black dots swarm the fringe of my vision. "Thank you, Mrs. De la Mora."

She squeezes even tighter. "Please—call me Mom."

I try not to groan.

"How did you know Valentino was here? We couldn't find your contact information," Samantha says when it becomes apparent Mrs. De la Mora has no intention of letting me go.

"We saw Val on social media. Someone live streamed the accident," one of the teenage girls answer. "It's going viral," the other one adds. She turns to me with a grin. "You're TikTok Famous!"

"TikTok?" My eyebrows shoot up as Mrs. De la Mora finally releases me from the choke hold. "Oh my God—that lady who was recording us on the sidewalk!"

"You were so badass," one twin says, while her sister finishes the thought, "the way you yelled at her like that!"

"Knock, knock..." A nursing assistant appears with a hospital bed in tow, and a still-unconscious Valentino tucked beneath the covers. He hands a patient chart to Samantha, who excuses herself to the nurse's station.

"Oh, mi hijo!" Mrs. De la Mora bolts to Valentino's side and covers his forehead in a series of raisin-colored kisses, while the rest of us shuffle around to make room for his bed.

"What did his test show?" Mr. De la Mora asks as I once again attempt to discreetly inch toward the exit.

"You'll be happy to know it could have been much worse." A female doctor squeezes into the room and spoils my plans for a getaway. "I'm Dr. Prisha Khatun. You must be the De la Mora's?"

Valentino's father shakes her hand. "When will our boy wake up?"

"That's a complicated question." She adjusts the stethoscope around her neck then stuffs her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat. "While the swelling is minimal, Valentino's injury occurred in the part of the cerebral cortex that controls arousal and awareness. While he's in our Intensive Care Unit, we'll monitor his brain activity and watch closely for seizures, infections, and fluid buildup to determine the best course of action."

Mrs. De la Mora sniffles from the side of the bed. "Will he make a full recovery?"

"I'm afraid it's too soon to say, but I have high hopes."

"What about our sixteenth birthday party?" one twin asks. "Will Val be able to come?" the other adds.

Dr. Khatun blinks as if she's seeing double. "It's not uncommon for patients to suffer long term effects, such as confusion or memory loss, and sometimes even physical deficits. We'll know more once he's awake—but I have no idea when that will be. It could be tomorrow or it could be several days from now. I'm sorry, ladies, but he may not make it to your party."

The twins' bottom lips jut out in identical pouts.

The doctor continues. "In the meantime, it's important to speak to Valentino as though he can hear you. Visit with him often. Hold his hand, tell him about your day. Carry on as you would if he were wide awake."

"So we can lecture him on the dangers of irresponsible cell phone usage?" Mr. De la Mora deadpans while his wife shoots him a nasty scowl.

Dr. Khatun smiles. "If I were you, I'd save the lectures for later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more patients to see. Samantha will let you know when his room is ready, and the attending doctor can answer further questions once Valentino is settled in."

Mr. and Mrs. De la Mora take turns shaking the doctor's hand before she disappears around the curtain.

"The good Lord was watching over our boy today," Mr. De la Mora says.

His wife beams. "And so was his fiancé!"

One of the twins gasps. "You're coming to our birthday party aren't you?" The other girl joins in. "Please say yes! It wouldn't be right if our future sister wasn't there."

"Oh, Molly—where are our manners?" Mrs. De la Mora says as she cradles Valentino's hand. "I'm Marisol. This is my husband Alejandro, and these are Valentino's younger sisters, Claudia and Elena. We have so many questions for you!"

Something sinks in my stomach. "And I have so many answers," I mutter, hoping my lips resemble something close to a smile. I maneuver toward the opening in the curtain so I can finally escape. "But we can worry about that later. I'm going to find a phone and call my uncle for a ride home."

"We can give you a ride," Alejandro says. "It's the least we can do."

"Oh, no. Really. You should be here as a family. I'll stop back later," I say, knowing full well that will never happen. Because as soon as I leave this hospital, they'll never lay eyes on me again. And maybe, just maybe, I can forget the entire mortifying incident.

A crinkle takes over Marisol's forehead. "If you're sure." And then, "Oh! You'll probably want Sonny while Valentino is here."

My breaths come to a halt. "I'm sorry?"

"Sonny," she says again. "We'd take him, but you know Alejandro's allergies. Or maybe you don't. Look at us—we're almost family yet we have so much to learn about each other!"

Sonny. What the hell is Sunny? "Oh. Of course, Sonny. Yes, absolutely."

Alejandro's shoulders sink in relief. "Where do you live? We can drop him off tonight."

"Um." My eyes dart around, but no one's there to save me—which means, there's no way I'm getting out of this mess. At least, not right now. "In Brownsville."

"That's not far from Leo!" Marisol says. "That's Val's cousin, in case you didn't know. Here..." She fishes around in her purse and pulls out a phone. "Add your number to my contacts and I'll get your address later."

When I'm finished, I hand it back.

She slides it back into her bag. "When would be a good time to stop by?"

I glance at my wrist watch. It's already going on three. First, I need to shower and grab a bite to eat, then I'll deal with this Sunny business.

I reach for the curtain and hold it aside. "Any time after five?"

"Perfect," she says. "And Molly?"

My stomach sinks a little further. "Yes?"

Marisol grabs a tissue from the bedside table and dabs it to her glistening eyes. "Welcome to the family."

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