Nora’s PoV
About twenty minutes later, the door opened again.
A tall man walked into the room. He had an athletic build, warm brown eyes, and a confident way of carrying himself that felt awfully familiar, even before my brain caught up with what just unfolded in front of me.
Nathan Rothwell.
My heart slammed harshly against my ribs. For a moment, it felt like the room seemed to tilt upside down. Of all the people on the planet I could have run into, why did it have to be him?
It had been four years since that brutal goodbye at L.A. airport. Four years since I walked away from that disastrous fake wedding, and from the naive version of myself that had thought my one-sided love could survive his fame and my crumbling sense of self.
The shock at the sight of him rooted me to my seat.
