Yesterday, I got engaged. I said yes to a man who loves me, and I love him. Happiness should shine brightly from my head to my toes.
But that’s not happening.
Despite this ring on my finger, I can’t stop looking back at my life, back to the boy who cast a spell on me a long time ago.
It’s true, there is no love like your first.
I was eighteen when Noah Sutton stole my heart. He was destined for greatness, and I could barely scrape together enough money to help my mother pay our rent. We spent that summer pushing limits, breaking rules, and living in moments I thought would last forever.
None of that stopped us from breaking each other’s hearts.
I could tell you we were too different.
That we were doomed from day one.
You would probably agree with me when I say first loves are rarely last loves.
Or, I could start at the beginning, and tell you our story.
There’s just one little problem: the more I think about Noah, the more certain I become that I’m marrying the wrong man.
Oh, boy. I think this is going to get messy.