Those first few minutes where Miguel lost his senses were the most horrible of my entire life. Some of the guys from the company helped me settle him on the floor, which helped me keep applying pressure on the wound with my dress. Blood kept trickling out from the back of his thigh where the bullet had exited.

"Quick," I said, my voice sounding foreign to me. "There's a roll of taffeta under my work bench, someone bring it to me."

I tried to spread my skirts all across his thigh, not caring if I was flashing everybody, but I couldn't reach both ends of the wound at the same time. A sob tore from my throat. Why had I wore a midi dress instead of a maxi one? Or why didn't I have a jacket? Where was the damn fabric?

Finally someone brought it to me and helped me unfurl it. We wrapped Miguel's leg as tight as we could. Meanwhile someone else announced the paramedics and police were on their way, and two other people fretted about Angela as she woke up.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. There was chaos around me, people shouting worse epithets at Jean Paul than I could presently come up with. People cried. I heard someone throwing up. There was a sudden commotion as Angela put two and two together and tried to get up to beat up her former employee, who continually snarled insults left and right. But I didn't care about any of that. All I cared about was that Miguel's eyes were closed.

I kept pressing on the wound, hoping with all my heart that he would be okay. That we'd make it out of this one. I couldn't lose him when I'd only just found him. When I hadn't clearly told him that I loved him back. I closed my eyes and prayed like we'd been taught at Trinity, what felt like a lifetime ago.

When the paramedics finally arrived, they had to pry me away from Miguel. I sat on the floor, stunned out of my senses as they worked around him. The police was there as well, restraining Jean Paul and taking all the evidence that they could.

One of the paramedics looked around and asked, "Any kin of the victim?"

"Victim?" The question came out from me like a squeak. No one cared to answer.

"Yes," Marisol said amidst the madness, pointing at me. "This is his significant other."

That allowed me to get in the ambulance with him. I held his hand and only let it go when I was forced to at the hospital. I collapsed on a waiting area and closed my eyes, conscious of the gory mess down my skirt, legs and hands, but I couldn't move.

After a while someone stirred me. It was Marisol and a few of the guys from the office. "Any news?" she asked me, and I shook my head.

I swallowed with difficulty a couple of times before I was able to speak. "Is everybody okay?"

"For the most part." As she sat next to me, she placed my handbag by my feet. "I brought you this and a change of clothes because, um, I don't know if you've noticed but you look kind of bad."

I probably shouldn't remain looking like a walking crime scene. She and the other guys promised to wait for any news from the doctors taking care of Miguel while I cleaned myself up. It was surprisingly difficult to find a bathroom for guests that included a shower, but eventually a really nice nurse took pity on me and helped me out. I was trembling like a leaf while I showered and got myself dressed on some sample clothes from last summer's collection. Marisol had had the foresight of packing up a neutral blue dress with little frill or flavor that we had discarded.

Then I called Charlie and broke the news to her.

"Qué?"

I recognized the word. The tone. I felt it in my bones. She said she was on her way but I knew that would take three hours if she wasn't careful about speed limits.

Once I joined the others and found out that there were no news yet, I went looking for them. A different nurse informed me that Miguel was stable and had just been taken in for surgery. My heart leapt and fell in succession. I asked her how long he'd be operated on and she couldn't tell.

So I joined back on the wait.

It wasn't a peaceful one, since Angela was brought to the same hospital and we all went to check up on her as well. She had a mild concussion and a strong case of anger. The policemen who had tagged along to interview the witnesses got the brunt of her temper.

"You had one job!" I heard her say as I approached her in the ER. "And that was to protect us."

"Ma'am," a young policeman said, his expression full of the pain it took to stay professional. "I assure you we couldn't have prevented this."

"Bah." Angela looked away from him and her gaze landed on me. She extended her arms out and I rushed over to hug her. "I'm so sorry, my dear."

Tears came out of nowhere and hit both of us. She felt responsible for having brought Jean Paul to our lives. I tried to assure her that she couldn't have known he would turn out like this, just the same as the police couldn't have known this would happen.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked me, and I didn't have to ask who she was referring to.

"He better," I said, wiping my face with the dress sleeves. "If he dies I'm personally going to kill him twice."

The doctors shooed me out of the busy ER, which was when the policemen caught me. I gave them my account the best I remembered it and the most accurately I could, even though all I really wanted to do was curse, shout and cry on the floor. I was saved from further interrogation by a phone call. When I glanced at my screen, I saw Charlie's name and noted that a couple of hours had gone by since we'd talked.

"We're here, where are you?" she asked as soon as I picked up.

"I, uh. What?" Just how fast had she driven?

I met her, her boyfriend and Mr. Bernal at the lobby. The older man immediately flagged a hospital employee and not only demanded news about his son, but also the best care and accomodation for him. Even in my stupor I saw that he did this in a very polite, almost charming way that still didn't leave any room for hesitation. That was where Miguel had got all his business acumen from. And also his nose.

"Tell me everything," Charlie said as she clutched at my arm and steered me toward a sitting area.

"I'll go get us some drinks," said Dean. "The private jet didn't have any and I'm thirsty."

He left us while I told everything to Charlie, with even more excruciating detail than I'd told the police at her demand. Her hands were a vice on mine and we both cried together.

"That absolute, freaking idiot!" she shouted at the same time her fiancee returned with four steaming styrofoam cups. "Who told him it'd be a good idea to jump in front of a bullet?"

I saw Dean's eyebrows go up so far they disappeared under the strands of blond hair across his forehead.

"Shut up," she told him.

I accepted a cup of tea from him and he said, "I have some experience on Bernals getting shot at."

Ah, yes. I remembered the story. Charlie had done for him the very same thing Miguel had just done for me.

She wiped a tear, although by her expression I realized that it was out of anger, rather than sadness.

"I'm sorry," I said, lowering my face.

"It's not your fault," Dean said from across me, sipping from his cup and setting a fourth one down next to him that I assumed was for his future father in law. "That's what these idiots do for the people they love."

Charlie threw her hands in the air and wailed, "Are we cursed? Or are we supposed to start a club about bullet wound scars?"

"Bernal family?" a new voice said and we all turned to see a middle aged man, wearing the kind of scrubs doctors normally wore for surgeries.

We all jumped to our feet and ran at him. Mr. Bernal dropped his angry conversation with a nurse as he saw the doctor approach us and rushed over to us.

"We're done operating on Mr. Bernal," the man said. "The bullet went through his thigh and narrowly missed the artery. It did shatter his femur, which is why we needed to operate on him to fix up the area. He should make a full recovery, provided there are no complications."

My legs gave out from under me and I landed back on the chair. His family asked more questions but my mind blanked. All that went through it was a thank you that I repeated like a mantra and sent to the heavens above.

I sat with Dean as Miguel's family went over to his room to wait for him to wake up.

"Don't you want to go?" he asked.

I nodded. "I do, I really do. But it's not my place."

"Considering what he did for you, I think it is." He gave me another funny look. "Welcome to the family."

After a while Mr. Bernal came out and confirmed that Miguel was awake and wanted to see me. He said he was going to take care of some administrative things in the meantime. I hesitated, but Dean convinced me with a wave of his hands.

Another nurse came out of his room as I approached and I met Miguel's open eyes through the open door. While I froze on the spot, a full blown smile bloomed on his face.

He bellowed, "There she is! My future wife."

I had a feeling like all the heat left my body and rushed back in with a wave that almost knocked me off my feet.

"What?" I asked, and this set Charlie off with so much laughter that it jarred me from the moment entirely.

"He's a little hopped up on painkillers," was all she managed to wheeze out.

"Come here," Miguel said, motioning one big hand over. I was still reeling from what he said but I stepped into the room, which made him nod and say, "Good, so you accept my proposal."

"That was a proposal?" I squeaked out.

"He could use with some pointers from Dean." Charlie shrugged. "I'll leave you two loverbirds to hash out the details of the wedding. Just don't upstage mine, okay?"

And with that she swept out of the room, a pep in her step renewed at knowing that, though hallucinating, her brother was going to be just fine. If I didn't kill him first.

I settled for glaring at him. "What the hell do you think you've done?"

There was a very specific twinkle to his eyes that let me know he might not be as high as people thought.

"Don't people in the hospital get a wish?"

I sat on a chair by the bed and let out a sigh that released me from the pent up stress.

"You're not sick," I said. "However, you are incredibly stupid. How could you jump in front of a gun?"

That sobered him up, confirming that he was fully lucid. Miguel reached out for my hand and I gave it to him. He squeezed with more strength than I'd expect from someone who got shot and bled all over.

"For you," he said. "After all, I'm your knight in shining armor, aren't I?"

I bit my lip to fight off a fresh wave of tears. Leaning down, I kissed his hand and stayed there for a moment, just feeling his warmth and the strength of his fingers laced through mine. Miguel was alive. He was going to be fine.

Straightening up, I continued, "Don't ever do something so crazy again."

"But-" he started, and I cut him off.

"I love you." That snapped his jaw shut. His eyes widened. "I've never said those words to anyone before. But I do, and I almost died today thinking I had lost you."

"Then we're at an impasse," he said, shrugging. "Because there was no way in this wide world I was going to lose a second loved one without doing something about it."

Oh, goodness. He was talking about his mom.

Seeing the realization dawn on me he said, "Guess I've now joined the exclusive club of Bernal Solis People Who Have Got Shot."

"Hopefully membership is closed forever," I added. Then, with a thread of voice I asked, "Did you mean what you said about marriage?"

Miguel tilted his head against the pillows, the better to give me a sharp look.

"Every word." I sucked in air and he smiled, like the setting and the conversation weren't a big deal. "I know I'm rushing but here's the thing. When you're about to get shot, life tends to flash before your eyes."

I remembered the visions I'd had when the barrel of the gun was poised right between my eyes.

"Except what I saw wasn't what I've gone through," Miguel continued. "But a life with you. And that scared me even more than the gun. I jumped in front of a bullet for you because I want to make all of that a reality."

He pulled my hand towards his lips as I started to weep.

"The dream job, the perfect wife for me and a million kids."

That startled me in the middle of a round of hiccups. "Kids?"

He grinned. "Maybe not a million. A few?"

"I'm feeling dizzy."

Miguel chuckled.

"I'm planning on asking you formally in about a year," he said, running his thumb across my hand, comforting me as if I were the one in bed with a damaged leg. "Just giving you a heads up. You can say no, of course, but I'm going to work really hard for you to say yes."

I laughed, wondering what I'd ever done to deserve this man. How someone like me, who had never known love, could've been found by it in such a spectacular way. I didn't tell Miguel right there and then, but the answer was very clear. It was just that after all, I also wanted to see him work hard for it—and I was going to work even harder to deserve a lifetime with him.

all i have to say is this

and also this