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I loved him for years, and he was clueless. He left and never looked back.
Now the rock star sends me an invitation—to our wedding.
Not many folks can say they grew up next door to a famous rock star, hanging out after school each day. But back before the fame and the riches and world tours, Dalton was mine.
My best friend. My crush. My everything. I loved him before it was cool, okay?
These days, he’s a stranger. A distant celebrity, nothing more. Sometimes he writes me letters, but I put them away unopened. It hurts too much.
Until the fancy invitation. Those embossed letters: RSVP. I nearly throw up until I see our names.
I am cordially invited to my own freaking wedding.
What the hell?
