He’s the quiet brooding guy who’s owned my heart since I was sixteen but has refused to claim it.
I’m the naïve woman who believes that someday our time will come.
I just didn’t realize that someday would include waking up in Vegas with a raging hangover and a ring on my finger.
If we believed in fate, maybe one of us would’ve trusted that something more powerful than ourselves interceded because our love is one of tangled vines. As twisted and frayed as they’ve become over the years, they’ve never broken.
An annulment seemed like the easy way out. We should’ve known it wouldn’t be fate that intervened, but our Italian Mamas. They can deliver Oscar-worthy performances when heaping on the guilt.
We thought it’d be easy to pretend to be a happily married couple in front of our families for three months and then say we gave it our best shot and go our separate ways.
But nothing is easy when it comes to Dominic Mancini and me.
Nothing.
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