Do you know how many times I looked at a man and thought him. That guy right there. He's the one? Four. And I was wrong about each and everyone before Gage.

Though he is gorgeous. A six-foot-five marine with smooth terra-cotta-colored skin and piercing brown eyes, I didn't like him at first. When we met, Gage Medina was a cocky asshole who told me red-heads were mutants before insisting on calling me Mary Jane on account of my naturally red hair.

If anyone would have told me he was my future husband I would have told them to fuck themselves. Now, we've been married for three years and he kisses me awake every morning after his run.

"Happy birthday to you," Gage's deep sultry voice croons, the scent of crisp apples and spice invading my senses as he kisses my neck and caresses my thigh.

"A little longer?" I request, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"No, it's time to get up. I made breakfast."

I open my eyes to see prince charming still hasn't gotten a haircut. A small crop of dark coils springing from his head.

"Not into it," I declare, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair.

"This?" Gage looks up as though he can somehow see the top of his head. "I kinda like it. You're always telling me to loosen up right?" he says, attempting to sit me up.

Groaning my displeasure I slam my back down to the bed. I don't want to get up yet. My perfect day would be just laying here with the man I love.

"You're twenty-six, Rue," Gage laughs.

"So, it's my day off" I pout, "Love me!"

"I do love you. For nine days after eternity," Gage scoops me into his arms. "But I have plans for you so get your pretty ass up," he says with a kiss.

"Now you're talking," I jump up and turn over.

Gage's eyes flutter as he tries and fails not to laugh. "Is that all you think about?" he asks me. Knowing very well that general anxiety and borderline personality gives me a lot to think about. Getting fucked before we make love is just more pleasant.

"Yes," I sit up on my knees. Removing Gage's shirt and returning to my stance. "You know the drill, Sergeant," I declare, Gage biting his lower lip as he grabs me by the hips.

"Yes, mam."

When we finally make it out of the house, I'm wearing a yellow sundress my best friend Brielle had shipped to me. She and my brother cannot make it to Athens for the party tonight, so she sent Valentino instead. Pairing the high-priced item with some twenty-dollar H&M-shoes ready for our adventure.

"Your car or mine?" I ask as Gage locks the door to our lakeside home.

I don't know why. We live in a very rural part of sleepy hollow, our nearest neighbor across the lake, but I guess you can never be too careful. "Mine, if we drove yours I would have to tell you where we're going."

We're going to the Argosy book store in the city. Manhattan is two hours away. I bet I know a faster way there than he does but I'm not supposed to know what we're doing.

I'm not supposed to know he is taking me to find some rare books to add to my collection lining the walls of our main room. I'm not supposed to know that he had my brother Wrenner call in a favor and bought out my favorite restaurant for a private lunch at four. I'm not supposed to know that when we return from the city all our friends will be here for my surprise party, but Gage should have known Brielle Castillo can not keep a secret.

"Okay," I smile, heading down our small turquoise steps to the candy red dodge challenger he amply named Rue-2 two summers ago. Spinning around and questioning for the third time, "Are you sure I'm dressed, okay?"

"Yes," Gage smiles, comfortably in blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

"My hair?" I ask, deciding to break from routine and wear my dark thick mane in my natural state. Long, tight curls bounding from my head and falling at my back.

"Beautiful," he smiles, knowing I'm fishing for compliments.

"Me?"

"I don't think the words have been invented," Gage declares, sauntering down the stairs and pulling me into his arms.

My headrests just below his shoulder. Holding him tight as I wonder, how did I ever get so lucky; but being who I am I look up smile, and say, "I'm sure Wrenner knows one," a light flash in his dark eyes letting me know I struck a nerve.

I'm an average girl surrounded by genius. My mother, brother, and my husband all possess IQs that make Einstein seem like an idiot. Weirdly, my little brother and Gage are almost the same person. They're prideful but caring. Both using their intellect to change the world.

Wrenner does it with his foundations and works in law. Gage is a scientific engineer who joined the military after obtaining his second master's at seventeen. They both think their way makes more sense. Both think the other is a blowhard. It's a competition from which I benefit greatly.

"Enthralling," Gage declares, kissing me before opening my door.

"Good, but I'm sure you can do better, Mr. Medina," I say reaching over to open his.

"Is that a challenge Mrs. Medina?" he asks, climbing in with me.

"Yes, yes it is."

Gage takes my challenge, spending the ride reciting every word comparative to my beauty. Most in definition of stunning and enchanting.

I love he thinks about me this way. Especially since I'm not that special. Though I have a pretty decent ass and am very proud of my breasts I don't have the perfect body. My thighs touch. My belly is a little soft. I'm average in height so will never be a model but not short enough to ever be a main character. The only interesting thing about my face is the constellation of beauty marks dancing across the upper half. Other than that, I look like any other light-skinned girl. Five come to mind who pull off my full bow-shaped lips, round nose, and upturn amber eyes better than I ever could.

I zip around the bookstore gathering up as much as my arms can hold. "Rue," Gage calls to me, standing by a wall of writing materials.

"Yes," I ask, Gage presenting me a black leather-bound book with a William Faulkner quote etched into the front: If A Story Is In You, It Has To Come Out.

"What's this?" I tilt my head.

"It's a journal. Don't worry, I asked the shopkeeper, it's recycled cotton fiber so you can write guilt-free," he smiles down at me.

"Write?" I furrow my brows, the mere mention of writing feeling strange.

Four years ago, I was earning a Master's In Fine Arts. I thought I wanted to be a writer, but I think I truly just wanted to exist. For the world to know I was here. I mattered. Then I married Gage and it seemed less important.

"Yeah, something to keep you busy," he tells me.

"I'm always busy," I smile.

My entire week is about Gage. Making sure his uniforms are cleaned and pressed. Our two-story house is without a speck of dust and dinner is always on the table at eight. I have my job at the boutique. Thursday girls' nights with Anastasia and Cadence. Saturdays I attend my sass classes and Sundays Gage, our dog Luna and I sleep in before driving two towns over to have dinner with his parents. I don't have time to write.

"Something to keep your mind busy," Gage corrects. "We can add it into your routine."

My frown increases. I can tell he's trying nicely to tell me something, but I've never been good at reading between the lines. I haven't had a manic phase in months. Not since he returned from his last mission, so I don't see the point in changing our routine.

"What would I write about?" I ask him.

"That's up to you," he says, kissing the top of my head before heading to buy my new books.

By lunch, I'm a little bummed. I thought since he helped Gage Wrenner was over our fight on New Years. It's been six months, and all I got is a one-word text: HBD

I guess it's better than nothing. Usually, no matter where she is in the world our sister Ever is calling me at midnight to scream my praises. This year, not even a whisper. Pushing around my food as Gage looks on concerned.

"Where are you?" he asks softly.

"They... didn't call..." I mutter. "Ever didn't even text me. I know it's my fault. I shouldn't have set them up like that, but we're family. The only family she has outside of Leesta and I just figured... I don't know—" I sigh.

I don't know what I was thinking. Wren is in a good place but I know Ever reminds him of the man we all want to forget. I just don't get it, though. The only feature our older sister shares with our father is they're both white. If looking like Cal is a problem shouldn't Wren be more bothered by me? Even after dying my hair, I still have Callahan's amber eyes and wide smile yet, our little brother worships me. At least... he did. Now I get cold texts and no calls.

"Have you checked your emails?" Gage asks me.

"Emails?" I arch my brows at the twenty-seven-year-old boomer. "Who sends emails?"

"Your sister," His smile is slightly uncomfortable but I ignore it.

I'm not stupid. I see the way he looks at her. I know that there was a girl who it never seemed to be the right time for and a guy that got away. I understand they were kids, and it happened long before any of us had met. I wouldn't be angry but if they don't want to tell me, I won't force them. I guess it's best we all pretend it never happened.

"You don't have any other form of social media, Rue. How else is she going to get in contact with you?"

"Call? FaceTime? Zoom, Visit," I list.

"Check your email," Gage passively smiles, and when I do there it is.

July 17th, midnight on the dot.

Greetings from a world away! I'm sorry I haven't been in touch, but you know how it is. I met someone. Too soon to gush, but we're going to spend the next few months off the grid getting to know each other in the carnal sense.

I'm thinking... Bali; but before I pull a San Diego, I needed to wish a very, very, extremely, Happy Birthday to my best friend in the entire world! My sister, my best friend, the moon to my sun; I am so sorry I won't be there to celebrate with you but there are no words to express how much I love you. Happy Birthday, Rue.

Her words bring a smile to my face. Holding out my pinky to admire the sun tattoo I got as part of our mismatching set. "Better?" Gage asks, reaching over to pick vegetables we both know I won't eat off my plate.

"Yeah," I reply, returning my phone to my purse to enjoy our date.

When we return to Athens, I pretend to be surprised when we walk through the door. Our house filled with Gage's family, our friends from town, and my best friend since high school Emily and his frat brother Chase. The newly engaged couple traveling from Brooklyn just to reign in the year.

During a lantern-lit dinner by the lake, Gage stands to give a toast. "To my wife, my best friend, the love of my life," he begins, his friend Franklin teasing Gage for choking up mid-speech.

I think it's sweet but I'm pissed because now I'm crying too. I hate crying but an old friend told me it's fine if it's over something you really care about and there's nothing I care about more in the world than Gage.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I use my thumbs to wipe his eyes before leaning up for a kiss. Burying my face in Gage's chest embarrassed as my friend Anastasia jokingly gags. I know this is cheesy but I'm happy and I know things only get better from here.

Two days later.

It's raining. I can hear the water tapping against the window as I take a deep breath reaching out for Gage. My brows knit into a frown when I feel the space beside me. It's Sunday. We always sleep in on Sundays. Sitting up to see it's a little after two on the digital alarm clock on his nightstand.

The house is quiet. Gage took Luna out for me. I'm not much of a fan of rain, washing my face and brushing my teeth before heading down to the kitchen to make a late lunch to thank him.

Walking past our big red round table I notice a stack of papers with a red sticky note on top. It's probably work. Gage is a special operative so we never talk about work. I never go into the study. Don't ask questions when he takes calls in another room. I know it's not my place, just how he knows it goes against my curious nature.

If Gage didn't want me to see those files, he wouldn't have left them on the table. Maybe it's something unimportant. Maybe it's something cool and weird. The anticipation too much as I race back over confused to see three words scrawled on the little red paper: Rue, I'm sorry.