As children we were taught that the sky was the limit, that when we reached adulthood we could become whatever we wanted. For a long time I’d taken that far too literally, first deciding that I wanted to be a Barbie doll, then a princess, then a mermaid—that one’s on you, Ariel.

When I finally got over the heartbreak of discovering that Disney princesses didn’t actually exist in real life, I decided I wanted to be the first woman president or an astronaut. That phase hadn’t lasted long.

When I reached my teenage years, my father began grooming me to take over the family business. After all, I was Calvin and Evelyn Prentice’s only child. So it came without saying that I’d one day carry on the legacy that had started as nothing more than a small, family-run department store on the West Coast and eventually grew into a worldwide fashion empire thanks to my father, and his father before him, and so on and so forth.

Most teenage girls would have dreamed of working in the high-end fashion industry, reveling in all the perks, the haute couture. But I wasn’t one of those girls. I didn’t dream of running an empire. I didn’t care about notoriety or fame or any of that stuff.

I didn’t care about being the next big “it” name or who walked down the red carpet in one of our designs.

Truth was, I hadn’t earned any of that. It had just been handed down to me as the next Prentice generation. No, what I wanted more than anything in the world was to be a wonderful wife and mother. Yes, I was aware that my ambitions set feminism back by decades, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted a family. I’d grown up watching my father dote on my mother like she was the only woman on the planet. They kissed, they touched, they didn’t care where they were or who saw their sometimes sickening—especially to a school-aged girl—displays of affection.

Most days my dad could barely keep his hands off her. And I was sure that, had my mom been able to, our house would have been full of children.

Unfortunately her body just wasn’t built to carry a baby. Her pregnancy with me was difficult enough, and after nine months of living in constant fear for his wife’s well-being, my father had decided that one was more than enough.

When I finally came into the world, I got all that adoration and love showered on me as well, so it had been ingrained in me from day one to find a man who treated me like I walked on water, and to hold on tight.

Because of that, I’d grown up with a somewhat inflated sense of romance. Meaning I threw myself into every single relationship I ever entered and had my heart crushed when they eventually came to an end.

But the absolute worst heartbreak I’d ever encountered had come at the hands of a man I’d grown up with. A man whom I’d idolized and placed on a pedestal for as long as I could remember.

Grayson Lockhart was absolutely everything a woman could want. He was kind and sweet, he was driven in success, smart, funny, and tying all of that up with a shiny, perfect bow was the fact that he looked like a Greek god.

The man was hot. I was talking take-your-breath-away, drench-your-panties hot. He could give you a mini-orgasm just by walking into a room and smiling.

And he’d been all mine.

For a time.

When our relationship ended, I’d been devastated. I threw myself into work, eventually jetting off to Prentice Fashion’s Paris headquarters. I just couldn’t take seeing him with other women. And since our families were such close friends, it felt like every exploit since our breakup was being shoved down my throat.

It wasn’t until years later when I’d finally managed to mend my broken heart that I realized Grayson was never supposed to be my everything.

No, that title belonged to the one boy who’d been a central figure in my life practically since day one. He was the one who held me when I cried, who I shared my deepest and darkest fears with, who knew each and every one of my hopes and dreams.

He had once been my everything, and I’d been too stupid to realize it, even though it had been right in front of my face all my life.

I’d been taught that I could be anything, do anything, that true, unflinching love really did exist.

But what I hadn’t been taught was that it didn’t wait forever.

Eventually true love got tired of sitting around, waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and realize you’d picked the wrong brother.

And that was exactly what had happened to me, because by the time I realized that Deacon Lockhart was the love of my life, it was too late.

And I had no one to blame but myself.