Time moves slowly in the days following Enzo's death. It's nothing like when Josh broke my heart. That heartache is like a pinch compared to how hollow, shattered, and defeated I am now. Everything aches. From my skin down into my marrow, like a constant pang reminding me that the future we had together was robbed. My last memories of him will forever be watching a nurse do chest compressions as they wheeled him through a set of double doors I couldn't breech. 

For at least three days, I didn't shower because I didn't want to wash his blood off of me. Everyone thought I was losing my mind, but cleaning the blood felt as if I would be scrubbing Enzo's existence away, and I want to hold onto to as much of him as I can.

When I look at my stitches, I curse them, since they're reminders of what happened. They're reminders of how quickly life changed in one night. Sometimes I wish I died with Enzo, but I won't dare utter that out loud. Lydia, my mom, and Anika constantly check in on me, like I'm a wounded animal that might not make it through the night.

Maybe I won't.

I've heard people can die of heartbreak, and if that's my fate, I welcome it because I'm not sure I want to live in a world without Enzo in it anymore. 

A tap on the door forces me to stir in bed and look over my shoulder. Anika pushes into my room dressed in all black.

"You're not up..." She furrows her brows.

"I don't want to."

Her shoulders sag with a sigh, "I know you're grieving, and we've all been giving you space to be sad, but there is no way I'm letting you miss today."

"I already said goodbye at the morgue," I mumble and cover my face with the blanket. "Why go through the torture again."

"Because it's Enzo's funeral." The mattress dips as she takes a seat near my feet. "And you'll regret not going."

"No, I won't."

"Mara, I will fight you on this. I will drag your ass out of bed if I have to."

I pull the blanket down and glare at her with watery eyes. "I don't want to see the man I love in a casket! Why is that so hard to understand?" 

"Because I know you. If you don't go, you'll beat yourself up for the rest of your life. This is your last chance with Enzo. Don't be stubborn."

"I..." my voice cracks, and I close my eyes tight. "I don't even know how to get out of bed, let alone get dressed. I just want to stay here and disappear."

Anika furrows her brows. "This isn't healthy, and I don't like what you're saying. Enzo wouldn't want you to live like this." 

"Yeah, well, he's not here to tell me. Is he?"

"Alright. I've had enough." Anika stands and goes to my closet. "I'll force you into a dress if I have to. You are NOT staying in that bed. Not today!" 

"I said, no, Anika! I'm not going."

"Yes, you are!"

"Back off," I yell.

My mom barges into the room, her gaze darting between Anika and me. "Que está pasando aquí?"

"Mara won't get out of bed." Anika throws her hands in the air.

"Mijita..." My mom narrows her eyes at me with her hands on her hips. "Get out of bed. Now."

"Mami—"

She arches a brow. "NOW." 

I throw the blank off, swing my legs over the bed with a huff, and stand with scalding tears in my eyes. "Happy?"

"No." My mom raises her chin and steps toward me, hands still on her hips. "You are not alone, mija. We are all in the living room waiting so we can go with you."

"Who is we?"

"Me, your dad, Lucas, Lydia, the kids, your friends. Everyone. Today is the day you begin a healing journey." She gently cups my chin, and I'm about to protest, but she tuts. "You have to live for Enzo. How else will you honor the sacrifice he made to save you? It would be a shame to waste it."

I exhale a breath, and my body sways as if I've been gut-punched. Rotting in bed would mean Enzo died in vain for me, and it has taken me now to realize it. He would want me to go on, to live my life. My mom weaves her arms around me, and I bury my face in her shoulder to sob. 

◇◇◇

When we arrive at the venue for Enzo's funeral, I'm shocked at how many people are gathered outside on the steps of the Grace Cathedral. Enzo knew a lot of people and made many connections through his work, and it looks like every last of them showed up here today. Will there even be room for me to sit? 

Judging by the countless white roses decorating the stair railings, someone spent a hell of a lot of money to rent this place and make it feel special. Enzo wasn't religious, despite most of his family being Catholic, so I'm surprised this church was arranged for him. My family and I walk up the steps, which carry a sweet scent from all of the roses. None of the people chatting outside look at me. I bet they have no idea who I am to even question my presence. I'm just another grieving person paying my respects.

Only I'm not just anyone.

However, there is one familiar person in particular who I'm not thrilled to see: Enzo's ex-wife, Evelyn. Her gang of botoxed housewives are comforting her as she dabs at her eyes with tissue. Our gazes lock for a moment in a silent standoff, and the other wives look my way, too, but Jeannie is the only one to nod with a sympathetic smile. Evelyn rolls her eyes and they return to whispering amongst themselves. Probably about me.

Thankfully, my family is with me, and it provides the strength I need to finish walking up the steps and enter the cathedral. To a tourist, the inside would be impressive with its stained glass windows, stone columns, and sky-high ceiling made of rows of arched beams. Yet, as beautiful as this place is, it's difficult to admire it when Enzo's casket is sitting there at the end of the aisle. Hundreds of bouquets and flower displays surround him as if he's being laid to rest in the Garden of Eden, along with photos from different stages of his life. 

There's one of him as a boy, smiling with a man who looks just like him, and who I'm assuming was his father. Another looks like the portraits you take for your senior yearbook picture. Some photos I recognize from his Instagram, but one in particular causes me to halt. I inhale a slow, deep breath and feel the ache as it stretches my lungs. It's a selfie of us in Las Vegas from the night we went to Circ du Soleil. I'm wearing his suit jacket and snuggled into his side with his arm curled around me, his hand on my hip. We're both grinning but Enzo's head is turned my way with his lips pressed to the side of my temple and his beautiful eyes gazing into the camera. We look so happy. 

"That's a nice one," Lydia says. 

"A damn good-looking couple, that's for sure." Anika nods. 

I look away. It hurts too much to see the happiness that has been robbed from me. Someone grazes the middle of my back, so I glance over my shoulder and it's Noelle. 

"Mara," she says, twisting a wad of tissue between her hands. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your loss. Enzo was such a special person and was family to me. I hate what happened to him."

"Me too."

"I should have been there, but I promise that Lucas and I are going to find the fucker who did this. We will get the son of a bitch and make him pay."

I nod but have nothing more to say, and awkward beats of silence pass. What is there to say anyway? Nothing will bring Enzo back unless someone can invent a time machine. 

The funeral service begins, and we all take a seat. However, none of this feels real. Instead, I'm having an out-of-body experience, floating somewhere near the ceiling and looking down on everyone. I half expect Enzo to jump out of the casket and tell us we all fell for his prank. But he doesn't. A few of his family members make speeches, and say lovely things about him. They share childhood memories and stories I've never heard before. It might as well be in a different language because it feels so removed from the Enzo I got to know. They got to experience a side of him that I will never will. 

The service concludes and people begin to shuffle out of the pews with a hum of whispers and sniffles. There will be a wake at an Italian restaurant nearby, so we've been instructed to go there for the continuation of Enzo's celebration of life. I hate that we have to celebrate it all. He should be here with me. As my family makes their exit, Dominic stops me.

"Hey, Mara, I just wanted you to know that the audition I arranged for you at that ballet company is still on the table."

"Thank you, Dominic. I truly appreciate what you did, but I don't..." I close my eyes and take a deep breath to compose myself. "I don't know if I can go back to dancing. Not after what happened."

"Mara, come on." Dominic reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "Enzo was so excited about you going to that audition. Do it for him. It will be good for you." 

"You should do it." Sammy approaches. "Enzo wouldn't want you to become a shell of yourself. He'd want you to get back out there and live your dreams."

"I... don't..."

My mom rubs my back. "Do it, Mara. Do it for Enzo." 

"For Enzo," Dominic says.

"For Enzo," Sammy repeats.

"Alright. I'll go," I mumble.

"Good." Dominic winks. "I'll let them know you're still going." He pats my arm. "See you at the restaurant."

Sammy lingers for a bit and pulls something out of his pocket. "I've been meaning to give this to you."

Something shiny glints at me as it dangles between his fingers. It's a keychain with a charm that says Tiny Dancer and has a little ballerina. He drops it into my palm, and I close my hand around the cold metal.

"They gave it to me at the hospital along with his belongings," Sammy explains. "I'm guessing it's a spare key to his apartment and Enzo was going to give it to you that night." 

"I see..." I whisper.

It's another reminder of the future that was robbed from us.

"We'll talk more at the wake," Sammy says. "Enzo's lawyer will be there and he wants to go over his Last Will & Testament with you. I think my nephew left you something." 

"What?" I blink a few times, surprised by his words.

"Enzo liked planning ahead." Sammy shrugs. "He left me some money and his precious Shelby Mustang. He knew I loved that thing," he says with a light chuckle. "So I'm willing to bet he left you with something nice, too. He always said he wanted to take care of you."

"Right." I nod, but I don't care about cars or whatever monetary inheritance Enzo has left me. 

I just want him. 

And I want him here with me.

Before we leave the cathedral, I go to his casket one last time. Tears gather in my eyes as I trace Enzo's face with my fingers, memorizing what I can before he's put to rest in the earth and I can't see him ever again. I inhale a deep breath, and I might as well be swallowing the ocean with how badly I'm drowning in this grief. 

Enzo shouldn't be in that casket. 

It should be me.

And I want to climb right in there with him, shut the entire world out, and have them bury us together because I don't want to live in a world without him in it.

Take me with you, My Love.