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everything that has happened, it might as well have been a lifetime since I last saw him. At the same time, even with all the time that has passed, I can still remember the day and that final conversation.
    “I know you must hate me Cherry. And I don’t blame you for that. I also know that simply saying that I’m sorry would not even begin to cover what I did to you.”
    “I don’t hate you Brandon. I tried to hate you for a long time, believe me. I just never could.” I don’t meet his eyes when I say this, although I can feel his gaze on me. I feel tears brewing too close to the surface, but I absolutely refuse to break down in front of him.
    I flick a glance in his direction, my brows crinkled with confusion. “Why are you even here? You didn’t fly here to see me.”
    He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. This is really the first break I’ve had since I moved to LA, and my parents asked me to come home. My grandparents and my Aunt Cara are in town. It’s a bit of a family reunion, I guess.”
    I nod and focus on the road as pictures of his family flood my mind. Other than a few awkward run-ins at the grocery store or around town, I haven’t really seen his parents or younger brothers since the night of our rehearsal dinner.
    “How are Marky and Steve these days?” I ask. I smile sadly as a shuffle of memories plays through my mind. Mark aka “Marky ””
”
had just turned thirteen when Brandon left town, and Steve had been sixteen. “I bet they love having a movie star for a big brother.” I smile.
    He returns my smile and I feel a wave of heat hit my stomach. Traitor, I silently scold my body.
    “They’re doing good. We Skype a lot. I’ve flown them out to LA a few times to come visit me on set and meet all the other actors. Of course, Steve is more interested in meeting the actresses than hanging out with me these days.”
    We both laugh. I can just picture the now nineteen-year-old Steve, chasing down the girls for autographs and pictures. The last time I saw him, he looked just like a slightly taller and stockier version of Brandon, so I’m sure he does quite well with the ladies.
    Our laughter trails off and leaves an empty silence in its place.
    “Cherry, I really am sorry,” he says. “For everything.”
    His words paralyze me. My heart feels like it has stopped beating, but my brain has alarm bells going off.
    I take a deep breath to steady myself, and ask the one question that has been ricocheting around my mind since the day he left. “Just tell me why. Why did you leave? You never gave me a reason.”
    “Believe it or not, I’ve thought a lot about that question over the years. The conclusion I’ve come to, is I was scared. We were so young, and I felt like the walls were closing in, like I was trapped.”
    “Trapped?” My head snaps to face him. “What is that supposed to mean? No one was holding a gun to your head when you proposed!”
    Hearing his words, I feel the scars of a three-year-old wound rip open. All the healing and processing I’ve gone through seems to have evaporated. I am left raw… exposed.
    Brandon quickly backpedals. “I didn’t mean trapped by you. I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. Always did. I just meant that being married so young would have entailed a certain lifestyle. I couldn’t just pick up and move for an acting job. I’d have to give up that dream, and I didn’t want to end up twenty years into a marriage with regrets that I never tried, to be left always wondering ‘what if?’ I cared too much to put that on you. I needed to go out and see what would happen, and if I ended up crashing and burning, it would be on me. I didn’t want you to suffer for my mistakes.”
    “I never asked you to give up your dreams,” I say, trying not to sound defensive.
    “Not directly,” he says.
    “What are you talking about? I never said I wanted you to stop acting, or to give it up and just work some job you hated for the rest of your