Six years ago, I asked Kaitlyn Barrett to marry me, and she said yes.

Three weeks later, I left her to set right the mess that led me to her in the first place. I promised to come back, and she promised to stay.

When I came back for her, two weeks later, she was gone—the only thing left to prove that she'd even been there in the first place were the signed divorce papers she left behind. Even though I wanted to go after her with every fiber of my being, I didn't because Kait had decided what she wanted, and it wasn't me.

I signed the papers that said we weren't married anymore and did my best to move on—and failed miserably.

When I took the security job at Gilroy's, I thought the most I'd have to deal with were a few bored paparazzi trying to get a photo of me roughing up a drunk college bro, or someone recognizing me from my brief stint as a tabloid badboy.

Imagine my surprise when I come face-to-face with the woman who vanished on me six years ago without a trace. When she tried to explain what she was doing in Boston, I'll admit I was too busy trying to get her naked to pay much attention.

When I told her I didn't care why she was here, that I wanted her to leave, she told me no. That she had friends. A life here that she wasn't willing to walk away from. Turns out the life she was unwilling to walk away from was my life. My friends.

So, since neither of us was willing to walk away, we decided to compromise. Divide the space we both occupied, cleanly down the middle—you stay on your side of the Gilroys, and I'll stay on mine. And it worked.

Until it didn't.

Suddenly, the walls we've built between our lives come crashing down, and just when it becomes obvious that avoiding her is the last thing I want to do, the life I helped Kaitlyn run away from calls her home, and the only question left is, just how far am I willing to go to keep her?