Twenty years ago, I’d spent an entire weekend cutting my first love out of every photograph I owned. Then my daughter brought her new boyfriend home, and I nearly choked on my coffee. Because the young man standing beside her looked exactly like the man I’d spent two decades trying to forget.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet someone.”
I looked up from the kitchen table and nearly dropped my coffee mug. For a moment, I honestly thought I was seeing a ghost.
The young man standing beside my daughter shouldn’t have looked familiar. I’d never met him before. Yet something about his face stopped me cold. The shape of his jaw, the way he stood, even the slight smile that appeared when he looked at Maddy.
My stomach tightened.
No. It couldn’t be.
“Miles,” my daughter said, beaming. “This is my mom, Audrey.”
