Page 1 of Broken Heart

PROLOGUE

SKYE

I used to think there was nothing worse than being alone.

Considering I was a self-proclaimed introvert who was as shy as they came, that was saying something.

But even if I valued time on my own that was quiet, where I could get lost in a book, or preferred to avoid being in large social gatherings, I still believed that being alone would be dreadful.

Humans weren’t designed to lead completely solitary lives. We needed connection, even if we got that through only one or two relationships with other individuals.

Of course, there was no question as to what drove me to this conclusion. I was just eight years old when I lost my parents in a robbery gone wrong. From that point forward, my grandmother, my mom’s mom, raised me. My grandfather had died from an aneurysm when I was a baby. I never met my grandparents on my dad’s side, because his mom died before he had even gotten married to my mom, and his father left his mom when he was just a kid.

I learned at an early age just how precious those connections were and how quickly they could be lost. So, even though I experienced some nerves when meeting new people, it was safe to say I valued the relationships I did have.

While I had several acquaintances simply because of my work, when it came to deep friendships or relationships, I had two people in my life—my best friend, Maria, and my boyfriend, Simon.

I met Maria in high school, and when my grandmother died a couple of years after we graduated, Maria had been the one person I could depend on. She had gotten me through one of the worst times of my life, and I cherished our friendship.

Then again, she understood what it was like to feel alone. Where my family had died, Maria’s relationship with her family was non-existent. It had been rocky when we were in high school, and the minute she turned eighteen, she moved out. After some time apart, Maria had believed they could try to salvage their relationship, but it never seemed to work out.

And for years, it had been just the two of us relying on one another for the friendship and connection we needed.

If all I’d had in my life was her, I really couldn’t have complained. But I was fortunate enough to meet Simon two years ago. Suffice it to say, I thought I was rather lucky.

Having lost all of my family, Maria and Simon were only that much more important to me. I couldn’t have imagined my life without either one of them.

Sadly, over the last two months, I started to worry that I might need to do that with Simon. I didn’t know what it was, but something had been going on with him. He was acting different, strange. I’d made the effort to talk to him, to see if there was something going on at work or between us that he needed to get off his chest, but he insisted everything was fine.

It was not fine.

I could feel it in my bones. Call it a hunch or intuition, but I was certain there was something bothering him.

Although I hadn’t wanted to take relationship problems outside of our relationship, I’d grown so concerned about it, I talked to Maria. She was supportive, suggesting I do all the things I’d already done.

Then, this morning happened.

I’d just gotten myself ready for work and was about to leave my house when my phone rang. Simon had called to tell me he wanted to take me out for dinner tonight. I could hear a slight edge of excitement in his tone—something I hadn’t heard in weeks—and that’s when it all hit me.

I convinced myself the reason Simon had been so out of sorts for the past two months was because he was preparing to propose. It was likely he’d just been stressed about making sure everything was perfect, and now that he’d gotten it all figured out, he was finally at ease.

Satisfied I knew precisely what was going to happen, but never wanting to ruin all the hard work and effort he put into setting up a special occasion, I immediately agreed to a dinner date with him tonight.

And for the rest of my day, up until about five minutes ago, I’d been ecstatic. I was going to have Simon by my side forever. I wouldn’t ever need to worry about being alone, because we’d be spending the rest of our lives with one another.

I thought that was all I ever wanted—to never be alone, because there was nothing worse than that.

Now, I knew differently.

There was something far, far worse than being alone.

It was this.

It was what was staring me in the face at this very moment.

An email.

There was a lull in activity at work, so I’d decided to take a quick break. I checked my email and was surprised to find an unread one from Simon in my inbox.

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