Table of Contents Title Page Books by Rachel Blaufeld Copyright Dedication About the Book Prologue PART I Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two PART II Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Stand Alone Titles Break Point To See You Heart Stronger Wanderlove Love at Center Court Series Vérité Dolce The Electric Tunnel Series Electrified Smoldered Tinged Crossroads Series Redemption Lane Absolution Road Sign up for my newsletter for the latest news on releases, sales, and other updates. Love Disregarded Copyright © 2020 Rachel Blaufeld All rights reserved ISBN: 978-1-7340017-2-3 Edited by Pam Berehulke www.bulletproofediting.com Content Read by Virginia Tesi Carey Cover design by © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, LLC www.okaycreations.com This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Warning: This book is intended for mature audiences. Interior design and formatting by: www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com For Michelle R., a beacon of light in the reading community. Michelle, who tirelessly supports, advocates, and champions the romance genre. For all your yelling from the rooftops, taking time away from your family to help, and always listening. Here is to the next time we can drink wine and eat pizza in NYC . . . the best city in the world. Thanks for being with me on this journey. When I first met Aston Prescott, I thought I’d be able to let go of him. I was naive. He belonged to the country club where I worked, and despite the vast difference in our social status, I still fell for him. I thought he fell for me too, and that our love would overcome any obstacles. But our relationship was discounted by everyone around us. Our families didn’t support us, and our friends avoided us. So we moved on with our lives, but then everything fell apart. The man who once abandoned me is now seeking comfort in my arms, and this time, I’m not sure if I can give in. Because if I do, I may never be able to let him go again. Bexley Present day I sat waiting, my butt crammed as far into the bench of the window seat as it could go, flush against the windowpane. With my chin resting on my bent knees, I stared out the bay window into the night, hoping for a sign that I wasn’t wasting my time. My kids had been asleep for hours, but something kept me up. A niggling, maybe . . . I didn’t know what you’d actually call the feeling. A premonition, my grandma would have said, but she’d been gone since I was in grade school. Most people would dismiss it as black magic or voodoo, or simply plain crap. Yet here I was. Fourteen years later, I was still in tune with a man, thinking he was going to appear out of the blue, even though he hadn’t shown his face here in years. Not just any man, but the man who’d changed me, forced me to love, and then left me—not for something better, but for the life he was destined to live. If I squeezed my eyes tightly enough, I could feel he was close. Even after so many years, warmth still blanketed my skin when I thought about him. Nerves flitted in my belly, tickling and scratching, making me uneasy, but I couldn’t move from the window seat. I’d waited a lifetime for this night. In this moment, I wasn’t a single mom with an overactive imagination, sitting awake in the middle of the night, thinking about a man who wasn’t going to show. No, I was a recent high school graduate, waiting for her guy to come by and make me his. For whatever reason, I was convinced he was coming back to me tonight, and no one could tell me otherwise. Not that I’d dared to share this with anyone. Afraid to move, I’d waited so long in the window seat, I’d fallen asleep. My hair was stuck in the crook of my neck, drool running down my chin onto my knee, when the sun fully came up. The first rays shone through the crack in the blinds from where I’d been peeking all night. He didn’t show. I wasn’t shocked or surprised. Not wanting to leave the window, I watched as a kid on an old-fashioned beach cruiser tossed a newspaper onto my lawn and sped off. Guilt had forced me to subscribe; the kid loved his job. The sound of giggling came from the kitchen, knocking me out of my reverie. Over the hum of the television, I could hear spoons scraping cereal bowls. Shit. I messed up. After a long inhale, I swallowed a large lump of humiliation and brushed the hair out of my eyes. Standing on wobbly knees, I decided to grab the paper first. Pleased for the first time that I didn’t drop my subscription for the paper edition, I popped open the door, desperate to stretch my legs, gulping big breaths of fresh air before meeting my reality
