The house was hauntingly silent as I began packing everything important into a suitcase.
The smell of Vincent cologne still lingered in the air. The sheets were rumpled from last night, his tie drawer was wide open after him getting dressed a mere three hours ago.
It was all a glaring reminder of how suddenly my life had fallen apart. Or maybe it had been falling apart, but I was too busy trying to convince him that I would one day be the perfect wife while running the company to notice.
Packing away our photo albums, I paused to flip through them, and it led to me curled up on our bedroom floor, crying over our memories.
He had been there after my parents died, helping me pick up the pieces and even offering to assist me in running the company they had left behind.
We had something good. We were the envy of our friends because it was so picture-perfect, and he ruined it.
For real love or a chance to build a relationship with Stacy's father, I could not tell.
I snapped the book closed and tossed it into the trash can. My eyes fell on my hand as it hovered over the garbage, and they narrowed on the ring on my finger.