And now, as New Jersey gets closer by the minute, all I can think is all of these unwanted thoughts.
Like what if this is temporary for him?
What if he jumps on a plane and just leaves tomorrow?
Because I know the truth—even if I want to lie to myself.
I never stopped loving him.
Not once.
Not for a single breath in sixteen years.
Not through the anger.Not through the hurt.Not through the heartbreak.
My heart might’ve scabbed over, but it never healed.
But Nathan?
He’s lived a hundred lives since we were teenagers.
Wild ones.
Successful ones.
Public ones.
Ones filled with glamorous people and glamorous places and glamorous… everything.
He can’t possibly want this forever.
A bakery girl.
A small-town house.
A niece with homework and a bedtime.
A mother-in-law who serves pasta, meatballs and sauce at 12 p.m.every Sunday.
A life that’s quiet compared to the roar of fame he’s used to.
And I’m terrified.
Because last night felt real.
All of it.
His hands, his voice, his kiss, his body—it felt like home in a way I’ve never let myself hope for again.
But what if it was just adrenaline?
Gratitude?
Old nostalgia wrapped in wedding-night lust?
What if New Jersey sobers him up?
What if he wakes up tomorrow and remembers he’s Nathan Thorn—someone whose normal is stadiums and red carpets and private islands?
