The Girl He Never Got Over

After years together, we finally hit our wedding day.

At the altar, Damien Huxley had the ring halfway on my finger when his old college crush from Francia called.

The guy everyone swore loved me more than his own life? His eyes went red. Then he bolted for the airport.

My hand froze midair. Then a stream of comments popped up in front of me—

[Oh my god, guys! I just saw his old crush's profile pic—she looks exactly like the new cadaver donor at our school!]

[No way. Don't freak me out. Keep that creepy comment away from me!]

[Either they're twins, or you need glasses. Chill.]

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

I knew about Damien's old crush—our college classmate.

But I remembered one thing clearly.

She was an only child...

Enya Answorth was a year younger than me and Damien, but we'd been in the same class.

Her family had money, and as an only child, she grew up spoiled and somewhat arrogant.

Her mom only had her. Same as mine.

We lived in the same dorm building for years. No way I got this wrong.

The comments kept pouring in.

That med student said he was heading to the body freezer to check.

[The profile pic flashed too fast. I need to see her in person.]

[I've got chills... If this is real, then the girl Damien ditched Sadie for is...]

[Ahhh! Jesus, protect me!]

I stood alone at the center of the stage. Camera flashes burned my eyes.

My parents looked wrecked. Whispers and pitying looks scraped over me, sharp and constant.

I clenched my jaw and ran. The cab driver kept giving me weird looks as I rushed straight to the airport.

Through the arrivals hall glass, I saw Damien had Enya pulled tight against him.

She looked soft, slim—normal. Her face was buried in his chest, mostly hidden.

Her small hand slid under his coat, restless.

At first, I didn't even know what I felt. Somehow, I'd followed him here.

I watched him carry her suitcase like it mattered, sling an arm around her, and let her take the passenger seat that used to be mine.

I watched him take her to a restaurant he was always "too busy" for with me. He cut her steak, fed her, looked more satisfied than if he'd eaten it himself.

I watched him book her a room, swipe the card, and walk in with her like they were some perfect couple.

My heart went cold.

Damien didn't care how I faced our wedding guests. Didn't care if I was humiliated. The second Enya showed up, she was all he saw.

But was she really Enya?

In a daze, I went home and lay there until two in the morning. I'd just started to drift off when the bedroom door clicked.

Through half-closed eyes, I saw Damien.

He stiffened. Then, when I didn't move, he relaxed.

He lay down. Enya's jasmine scent drifted over, mixed with that faint, dirty smell.

His phone buzzed.

Through my lashes, I glanced at his phone.

More messages from Enya:

[Damien, are you asleep?]

[You have to come to my studio tomorrow at noon. I've got a big surprise for you.]

[I'm going to shower too. Too bad you left in such a rush—you missed out, hehe.]