The town you swore you'd never come back to looks exactly the same. You don't. Last night's mascara is tracked down your cheeks, your designer bags are splitting at the handles, and every tabloid in the country has your worst moment on the cover. You just need to get inside, keep your head down, and figure out what's left of your life. Then the corner store door swings open - and Andrew walks out. He looks older. Steadier. Like someone who never needed to run from anything. His eyes find yours and he goes completely still. He was the one person who said this would happen. Loudly. In front of everyone. And you hated him for it - almost as much as you couldn't stop wanting him.