“Marry me.”
“What?” I stared back at him, unblinking.
He moved closer, taking my face in his hands. “I love you, Evie. I look into the future, and the only thing I see clearly is you. Marry me.”
What’s an eighteen-year-old girl who was madly in love with her nineteen-year-old boyfriend say?
Of course, I said yes.
Twenty-four hours later, I married Adam Gunner at a Vegas chapel to the sounds of “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi. Not the best omen. I get that now.
Then, exactly one week later, I left him. I walked out, leaving behind my wedding ring, annulment papers, and my heart, and he never knew why.
I haven’t seen him since. Not in ten long years.
Now, he’s here, standing before me. Looking at me with nothing but hurt and hatred in his eyes, he wants answers.
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