There he is.
Marcus Evans.
The man who obliterated my heart. Standing in this hallway in front of me.
“What the fuck?”
Marcus
“What the fuck?”
Holy shit. I haven’t heard that voice in seven years.
Seven years.
Harper Smith. The love of my life and my college sweetheart.
And at one point, my wife. Well, supposed wife. Apparently the paperwork never got filed correctly.
“What the fuckme? What the fuck you? My daughters are in your class?”
Harper’s blue eyes go wide.
“Your daughters?”
“I thought Mrs. Gonzalez was their teacher?”
Harper was never one to hide her emotions. Especially from me.
And right now, I can see every single emotion play out on her face. Shock. Disbelief. Anger. Rage.
Yeah, rage just about sums up the look on her face. If she were spitting fire, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Someone brushes by me and waves to Harper. Sheschools her face and gives a polite wave before the mask drops.
Back to anger and rage.
All directed at me.
“Your daughters?” Harper hisses. “What, you couldn’t keep it in your pants and knocked some girl up, and that’s why you left?”
“Christ, Harper, really? You think I would cheat on you?”
Harper unfurls herself from her chair. I shouldn’t be noticing how she looks, but damn. She looks just as good now as the day I met her back in college.
Stunning. Sexy.
She’s in a pair of black, skinny pants and a white button-up blouse with puff sleeves. Her long, blonde hair is curled, pulled back with a bejeweled headband—covered in rulers, pencils and apples—that she always loved wearing at school.
Fuck. Harper is really standing in front of me. I always imagined bumping into her, but never thought it would happen.
Now, in the girls’ school of all places?
Fuck.
“How the hell would I know, Marcus? You left me, remember?”
“I don’t need you to recount our past, Harper.” She recoils away from me, like I burned her. “I remember.”
