Page 12 of Forever Mine

I take a deep breath and try to school my expression as I turn to her. But seeing Emily and her compassionate eyes, I immediately break down into sobs.

"Nana has cancer, and she needs chemo and radiation, and medicare only pays so much, so I need to move and get a smaller apartment that costs a lot less so I can pay for her treatments, and I'm so fucking tired, Em," I babble. Her quick intake of breath lets me know she heard everything.

"Oh, Mon," she murmurs as her arms come around me tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"We just can't catch a break, Em. I'm tired of this. I can't lose her."

"I know. We'll figure it out. You know I'll help, right?" Emily says.

"You don't need to. I guess after drunk dialing you, I called one of my sisters. She sent me some money."

"What the fuck?" she shouts against my ear, and I wince. "Oh, shit. Sorry. Hangover. You called your sister? Which one? Were you allowed to do that? What did she say? How much money did she send? Are you gonna get in trouble? Is the mafia gonna come after you? Holy shit, Mon!"

I explain what happened. We go back through my call log and see that I only called Isabella once, thankfully. The call was only two minutes long, so I'm guessing I left her an unintelligible voicemail. The fact that Isabella figured it all out and managed to get the money wired into my account so quickly is remarkable.

Em stays with me the rest of the day and helps me continue to pack. Even with the funds from my sister, I want to downsize and save every last penny I can to ensure I have emergency funds if needed.

Within the week, I've located a studio apartment that is five hundred dollars less per month than my two-bedroom apartment. It's in a less-than-stellar area of town, but it'll have to do. It's closer to my grandmother's retirement home, anyway. I managed to sell off some furniture I won't have space for and padded my wallet slightly. Em and I celebrate by hitting up our favorite Mexican restaurant for queso and margaritas.

I only hope the money Isabella sent me lasts for a while and both of us don't have any repercussions from it fromLa Famiglia.

CHAPTER FIVE

Monica

Age 32

“I’m done,bambino. It’s enough. You need to accept this,” my grandmother rasps as her hand shakily cups my cheek. For two years, I’ve watched the strongest woman I’ve ever known whither away. Three rounds of chemotherapy and two rounds of radiation didn’t help. Instead, her cancer continued to spread.

“Nana,” I plead.

“Monica Rose. It’s time. You need to let me go on my own terms. Let me live out whatever time I have left enjoying it. I want to watch the sunset. Go to that Mexican restaurant you’re always talking about and have a margarita. I want to take the line dancing class they have each Tuesday afternoon, which I’m always too tired and nauseated to take. I’ve let it go on this long because I knew you needed me to,bambino, but it’s time. We need to move on,” Nana says quietly.

I silently cry as she holds my cheek.

“I don’t know how to go on without you, Nana,” I sob.

“Yes, you do. You’re so much stronger than you think. You’ll follow Emily-bemily to Colorado. Start a new life there. Live for yourself,bambino. You’ve been living around me for years. You haven’t enjoyed your life. I want you tolive.”

“You don’t have to die for me to live!”

“I’m seventy-five years old. I’m lucky I lived this long. If we hadn’t leftLaFamigliawhen we did, I doubt I would have lasted as long as I did. Who’s to say that I don’t have months or a year left? We can’t predict when death is coming,bambino. My timetable has just been ramped up. I’m ready. I’m ready to see my husband,” my grandmother says confidently.

I feel my heart squeeze. My grandfather died decades ago, and I barely remember him. I know he loved my Nana fiercely, though. Unfortunately, I can’t remember how he died.

“How did he die, Nana? I just remember I was only five or six,” I comment.

“He was shot. Looking back, I wonder if your father had something to do with it,” Nana says nonchalantly. My eyes whip to hers.

“What?”

“He became the Don when your grandfather died. He didn’t seem too upset. I don’t have any proof, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Jesus.

I really am glad I got out of Dallas and away from my father.

“In any case, now you can save some more money, and you won’t have to work those extra hours,” Nana says as she studies me. I internally cringe. I told her I took on a second job instead of letting her know Isabella had sent me money.

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