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the hallway to where I will finally meet up with the past I’ve been trying so hard to outrun, I think I get a glimpse of what a death-row inmate feels like on that slow walk to their final minutes.
    Along with pure, utter terror has to be gut-wrenching remorse that you should have done things differently so you wouldn’t have ended up in this position to begin with.
    I know I have remorse, regret. Bucketfuls of it. I have many things I’d redo, given the chance.
    So many.
    Unfortunately, I have no genie in a bottle and real life doesn’t grant wishes for seconds or do-overs. You get one shot to not fuck things up beyond all repair. Too bad I’ve already blown mine.

Chapter 3
    N ora

    W hen Uncle Carl and I walked into the boardroom a few minutes ago and my eyes landed on Connelly, I had a hard time catching a breath. It felt as though the wind was knocked straight from my lungs.
    Lord have blessed mercy.
    The real-life, grown-up version of Connelly Colloway was so much more handsome than I could have ever imagined. The pictures online have done him a complete injustice. Now, I understand why he has women swarming all over him like bees to nectar.
    He is sexy as hell, oozing carnal sensuality in a way he didn’t before.
    I’ve got to be honest, I may not have kept in contact with Connelly all these years, but he’s never been far from my mind. It was especially hard to ignore him when his sexy, day-old scruffy GQ face was splashed all over Forbes magazine a couple of years ago as one of Chicago’s newest, most successful and eligible bachelors, along with his other two brothers, Gray and Asher.
    Connelly isn’t a celebrity, but he’s a hard man to escape. He’s often quoted in some sort of business article. And his picture has graced the Internet more than once, often with a beautiful woman dripping like an expensive jewel from his elbow. I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice. Even when we were young, he had an affinity for the girls and it’s clear that hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, he’s grown into quite the all-star player.
    With our eyes locked on each other, I have to force my feet to keep their forward motion toward my seat. I have to remind my knees they aren’t made of Jell-O so I don’t melt into the carpet. And as I slide into my chair, the questions I’ve tortured myself with all these years come racing back: Did I make the right decision so long ago? Am I still making it now? I go round and round, making myself dizzy with doubt.
    But I always end up in the same place I started.
    Connelly was my first boyfriend. My first love. My first everything and I walked away from him. For good reasons then. For valid reasons now. There is no room in my complicated life for a playboy who has obvious commitment issues. Still . People would just end up getting hurt. I’ve had enough emotional agony to last ten lifetimes. I don’t need to go inviting it in personally. I did that once before with him.
    I used to wish my life had ended up differently. It didn’t and I’ve long since stopped wishing. Wishing doesn’t change a damn thing anyway. It keeps you frozen, tethered to yesterday’s sins and broken vows. Having no choice, I’ve accepted my lot in life and moved ahead.
    I have to say, though, in this moment, I wish . I wish for things I’d long stopped wishing for. I wish that I was his . I wish I could go back in time and make different choices. I wish he had loved me the way I loved him. The way I still love him, even after all this time, even after everything he did to us.
    I wish.
    A pointed question my way makes my wishes turn to mist, coating my skin with a slick film of faded dreams and what-ifs. Just as well. I need to move ahead with confidence and hope, not look behind with longing and regret.
    “Uh, my apologies. Could you repeat that?” I glance at Carl to see a frown turn down his face. It’s not at all like me to be mentally absent during a meeting, especially one as