“I know where I want to go for our first date,” Valentino says. “Where?” “Times Square.” “But that’s where—” “Where I found out I was going to die.” “And almost did.” “It’s also where we met. I’d like to go back.” “You sure it’s about us and not because you want to find your phone?” “See? You know me well.” I sigh. I can’t deny a dying guy’s wish. “Let’s go back to where it all started.”
