Chapter 1

Abraham James's female assistant had traveled back through time.

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, she threw her arms around him and sobbed until her voice cracked.

"Sweetheart, I finally made it back three years. We never had the accident, you didn't die, thank God."

Before I could react, he'd already pulled her into his arms.

"Clarissa never lies. If she says it, I believe her."

"Until I figure out what she and I are to each other three years from now, we'll push the wedding back. Okay?"

I gripped the wedding dress tight and said nothing.

He clicked his tongue, clearly impatient.

"Kayla Winfield, there's a very real chance she's my future wife."

"If I rush into marrying you now, that isn't fair to her."

Three years since we met, seven together. When he proposed, he cried and said the one thing he wanted most in this life was to marry me.

Now marrying me was rushing into it.

I smiled.

"You're right."

I took out my phone. There was the message from before.

"Just marry me, okay? Please?"

I paused, then typed.

"Okay."

...

I clicked the screen dark and walked straight to the dressing room.

Abraham followed, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Isn't it funny, the little thing inventing this whole time-travel bit to stop me from getting married?"

I sat down and started taking off my makeup. I didn't answer.

He leaned against the vanity, hands in his pockets, in a good mood.

"And the nerve on her."

"First day on the job and she corners me in my office to confess, insisting I drive her home."

"That time you were away, she showed up at the house dressed as the cleaner. When you called, she huddled right there next to me, calling me 'sweetheart' under her breath."

"You can read every scheme right off her face. Tell me that isn't adorable."

He seemed to find the whole thing hugely entertaining.

He shook his head, laughing.

"She's a lot of fun. I'll honestly be a little sorry to let her go."

I turned to look at him.

"If you'd be sorry, then keep her."

"I'm just talking."

He reached over and brushed my hair back, his eyes gentle as ever.

"However good she is, she's still not as good as my Kayla."

"Relax. The wedding isn't getting pushed back."

"I know where the line is. I'm just playing, teasing the little kitten."

"We're not married until next week anyway. I promise I'll have it handled before then, all right?"

Handled before the wedding.

Handled before the engagement.

Handled before our parents met.

However many times he'd said that line, that's how many times I'd believed it.

Then watched him swap in the next one.

And I'd go to his company to cry, to threaten, to throw money around.

That's how I'd driven off all twenty of his previous female assistants.

Yesterday was my birthday, and he'd sworn up and down that today he'd end things clean with Clarissa Manning.

But just now, while I was in the dressing room putting on my wedding dress,

with only a curtain between us, he had his arm around Clarissa Manning's waist, flirting.

"What are you doing here? Not scared my wife will see?"

Clarissa let out a soft hum.

"So what if she sees. A few words from you and she's fine again anyway."

Abraham's voice went low and rough.

"Look how full of yourself you are. Go home, get cleaned up, and wait for me."

So this was the line he knew so well.

I lowered my head. The tiny crystals on the dress stung my eyes.

"You deal with her, and then what? Then the next one?"

"Tell me, Abraham. Is it going to be like this after we're married too?"

"You'll happily share how fun every woman out there is, then put on that fake tenderness and tell me none of them are as good as me?"

I drew in a breath and looked into his eyes.

"If I'm so good, why do you keep chasing other people? What exactly do I even mean to you?"

Abraham blinked, then leaned in, studying my face.

"Aw, are you angry?"

He frowned, lit up his phone, and tapped a few times, fast.

Ding. A message alert.

My phone lit up. Two hundred thousand dollars, deposited.

I looked at him, not understanding.

He scrolled through his phone, unhurried.

"Go have some fun abroad for a few days. Out of sight, out of mind, hm?"

"Where do you feel like? Italy, Paris? Antarctica?"

"No rush, take your time. Just be back the day before the wedding."

I closed my eyes for a moment.

The way I'd just argued with him felt like a joke.

"Abraham. Let's break up."