(Tyler)
I sat at the bar nursing my third whiskey. The place was dingy. Dark wood, stale beer smell, exactly the kind of dive I'd been hitting up for the past five months.
Five months since Mirabelle left.
Five months of searching. Hiring that useless PI. Driving around looking for her myself. Coming up empty every single time.
The bartender wiped down the counter in front of me. "Another?"
"Yeah."
He poured and moved on to the next customer. I pulled out my phone and stared at her picture. The one I'd set as my wallpaper. Her smiling at the camera. Dark brown hair falling over her shoulders. Beautiful.
Mine.
She'd been confused when she left. Didn't understand that everything I did was for her own good. For us. But she'd come around. Once I found her and explained things properly,
