Before I Forget His Name

My social psychology professor gave us a simple assignment: text the words I love you to the family member we were closest to, then record their first reaction.

My parents had died seven years earlier in an ambush meant for the DeLuca family. With no one else to text, I sent the message to Roman DeLuca—the youngest Don in New York’s underworld and the man the court had once appointed as my temporary guardian.

The typing bubble appeared and disappeared all night.

At two in the morning, his answer finally came.