Prologue

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"WHAT IF HE doesn't?"

I look up from my Wisconsin Brat, catching her gaze from across the table. Absentmindedly tracing my finger along the edge of the red, plastic basket, I ask, "What if he doesn't what?"

Her pretty brown eyes grow sad, and my heart aches at the pity I see in her expression.

"Kate—darling, what if he doesn't actually leave her? What if he doesn't come back?"

I shift my gaze down into my lap and stare at my hand. With my thumb, I spin the ring around my middle finger over and over, all the while reminding myself that her what ifs are just words. I convince myself that what he and I have, it's bigger than our circumstances. I shield my heart against the lies that lie in what if—in the silence—in the waiting.

"Kate..." she murmurs, leaning against the table to shorten the distance between us.

I curl my fingers into a fist and lift my eyes to meet hers once more. I ignore the way her worry tugs at her brow and the regret I know she harbors in her thoughts. I ignore it all. I have to.
For Jordan, for us, I have to.

"He will," I state resolutely. "He'll come back to me."

"But—"

"He will!" I insist, pounding my fist against my thigh. "He has to. He has to."

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