Put a finger down if you’ve ever been a single woman who got stuck in a New York City elevator in the middle of a summer blackout with your former high school sweetheart—whom you haven’t seen in years—while pregnant with a baby that isn’t biologically yours. And you can’t believe how handsome that blast from your past is, so you unwittingly flirt with him a little even though your life is so crazy complicated you’re barely keeping your head above water, but everything about him makes you think you could totally still be in love with him.
*puts a finger down*
What? Just me?
Needless to say, my current status is thorny. And no, I didn’t miss how close that word is to another one.
Even though he’s the epitome of tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, Remington Winslow has been a single bachelor for most of his life. It’s clichéd and basic—until you consider the fact that once upon a terrible time, he got left at the altar.
He doesn’t do relationships. He definitely doesn’t fall in love.
And I’m just trying to survive a tangled web of unexpected motherhood and running one of the top real estate firms in the city that never sleeps.
He’s the jaded guy who doesn’t want to settle down, and I’m the career-focused woman with more baggage than a 747 can hold.
We’re just two friends who used to be in love.
Now, if someone would tell my hormones I’m not a teenager anymore, I’d be set.
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He doesn’t do relationships.He definitely doesn’t fall in love.
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My fingers run across the screen quickly, and I don’t even bother looking up before stepping inside the elevator—and bumping right into another human.
He grunts as he catches my momentum by the tops of my arms, and I nearly jump into another dimension.
“Oh my gosh!” I cry, embarrassed by my rudeness. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention at all.” Honestly, I’m still kind of not as I finish typing a message to my worthless assistant, but once I hit send, I tuck my phone into my purse, ready to give him my full attention.
Or, at least, as much as my mortification will allow.
I cringe and look up into crystalline-blue eyes then, just as a smile is curling onto the handsome stranger’s face. But it only takes a millisecond for me to realize he isn’t a stranger at all. Truth be told, he’s as little a stranger as a man can be—my first real love and the man I gave my virginity to when I was sixteen years old. It seems like a lifetime ago and just yesterday all at once, but the memory of his gentle hands coaxing my nervous hips up to meet his is the kind of thing you don’t forget. No matter how many years have gone by.
“Maria?” he asks, his smile deepening further, if you can believe it.
Me, though? I’m nearly speechless. Because I haven’t seen my high school sweetheart Remington Winslow in two f*cking decades.
And yes, trust me, if you got an eyeful of everything that Remy is now, you’d know it absolutely deserves the use of the f-word. Same strong jaw, same intense eyes, same full lips and dark hair—somehow, he looks as good as I remember. Maybe even better.
Goodness, he’s aged well.
“Remy.” His name passes over my tongue and has the power to bring back so many memories of the past.
Is it true what they say about your first love?
That you’ll always love them?
About Max Monroe:
Many moons ago, a dynamic duo of romance authors teamed up under the pseudonym Max Monroe, and, well, the rest is history...
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of more than thirty contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
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