I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the next three hours, Kendra.

I say with exasperation, as I step out of my Uber at the front entrance of the Grand Staircase Hotel, a historical building in my

hometown's small downtown district. Listen, babe, I got to go. I just pulled up to the Grand,

and I'm already running behind. Dinner is served in 20 minutes. All right, babe, my best friend of

20 years says from the other end of the cell phone,

four states away. I wish I could be there with you, but the dock won't clear me to fly this light

in a pregnancy with twins. I wouldn't allow it either, I retort. Love you, bye, bye, she says, then I hang up my phone and slip it into my purse.

I sign in at the table in the hotel lobby, then quickly find my assigned seat in the dining room.

As dinner is to be served in the next ten minutes,

I make my way toward the front of the room, as the seats are assigned alphabetically. After shuffling

all of the way from the dining hall entrance at the back of the room to the second row of tables,

I find my place card reading Shelby Blasier.

I am in such a rush to sit down, but it isn't until I turn to hang my purse on the back of my chair

that I realize I'm seated directly next to none other than Joseph Blackwood, also known as my first, and to the state only, love.

As my eyes meet his cool turquoise irises, I want to slap myself.

I should have realized we'd be seated next to each other when the volunteer

at the sign-in table said the seats were assigned alphabetically.

Hey, Shell! Joe says with an easy smile.

Hi, Joe. I respond before I even register that I'm speaking. Joe has that effect on me. He always has.

It has been ten years since I've seen him. Ten years since we sat in the back of his pickup truck on the

football field and made each other that promise. Today is the day we said we'd make good on our vows.

I wonder if he intends to do so. Do I? All this time on the phone, and in lengthy text

...