I knew it wasn't fair, I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it. And after a while, the anger I felt just sort of became part of me, like it was the only way I knew how to handle the grief. I didn't like who I'd become, but I was stuck in this horrible cycle of questions and blame.

Throughout it all, I loved her as much as I always had, and I found myself aching for those simpler times of the past. I knew what was happening, of course. As we were drifting apart, I was becoming more desperate to save what we once had shared; like a vicious circle, however, my desperation made us drift apart even further.

She was a stranger now, but she'd been a friend once, and that was enough for him.

He works at the kennel with Nana," Ben piped up. "And I think him and Mom are dating." At that, a stillness fell over a throng of admirers, punctuated by a few uncomfortable coughs.

Good and bad, strengths and faults, he was hers forever.

Stories are as unique as the people who tell them, and the best stories are in which the ending is a surprise.

I'm writing a new love story, set in eastern North Carolina. Surprise, surprise, huh?