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this? Along with almost everyone else, he had no idea why I’d run on my wedding day.
    My body trembled, and I pinched my eyes closed. Deep breaths.
    A shot glass was pressed into my hand. “Drink this,” Roxanna ordered.
    My hand shook as I lifted the glass to my lips. I knocked the tequila back, then brushed away the fat tears blurring my vision. I nudged the shot glass toward Roxanna. “I want to go home now.”
    “Are you sure?” Gen’s brows quirked with worry. “You should come back home with me.”
    “Mitzy’s there, remember?” My little Chihuahua didn’t like being left alone very long. And there, I could cry as much as I wanted to—needed to.
    “Matt, go get the car, please,” Gen said, and Matt disappeared out the front door without a word. My twin turned to me with a serious gaze. “Tomorrow, this won’t mean a thing.” She nodded to the now blank television. “That interview won’t mean a thing.”
    Maybe she was right. Maybe when I awoke tomorrow, the Buchanans would be nothing more than a nightmare I once had. I hoped so. I longed for it to be true and prayed for it all the way home while I sat in numb silence in the backseat of Matt’s car. They endured the awkward silence, and I was relieved they let me be.
    When we reached the curb in front of my apartment building, Gen got out with me. She studied my face, reading my emotions. Being twins, we had a bond most didn’t understand. I wouldn’t exactly call it reading each others’ minds. It was more of a feeling, a connection we shared. And right now, she could tell I wanted to be alone. After a moment, she hugged me and let me go inside without trying to convince me out of it. I took the stairs up to my second floor apartment on heavy, tired legs.
    Mitzy scratched at the door as I turned the key in the lock.
    “Calm down, baby,” I said as I pulled the door open. She launched herself into my arms, and I buried my face against her tiny neck. “Hey, pretty girl, mama’s home.”
    I kissed the top of her head, then gazed around the small apartment. I imagined the walls pressing in, suffocated by the essence of my relationship with Jeremy. There were touches of my ex-fiancé everywhere, from the toothbrush he kept in the bathroom, to our engagement picture hanging on the wall. The oversized image mocked me—at one time we’d been a happy, healthy couple. At least, I’d thought so. I sucked in a ragged breath.
    There was too much here to remind me of everything Jeremy was not, of what I had lost because he had given me up. As I stood in the entryway of my apartment, my relationship with Jeremy replayed over and over in my head like a movie strip. My circuit was overloaded with all the “whys” and “what-ifs,” but it was all a jumbled mess. I’d been agonizing over him—over us—for the last five days, and by now, I was physically and mentally exhausted. When I closed my eyes to sleep, my mind berated my heart for being so blind, for not seeing the end of my relationship careening toward me.
    How could I have missed it? How had I ended up here, alone in an apartment which no longer felt like home, but more like a tomb for a failed relationship?
    My eyes swam with a rush of panicked tears. I choked on a moan and turned back to the front door, struggling with the uncooperative knob in my shaking hand. Mitzy stared at me with wide, worried eyes as I carried her over the threshold and into the bright hallway. It was a good thing none of my neighbors were around, or they would’ve witnessed a sobbing mess.
    I leaned back against the closed door and worked to get my tears under control, muttering to Mitzy, “It’s okay, baby. We’re going to be okay.”
    She gave a soft whimper and stared back at me. I dug through my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Along with the phone, I pulled out a voucher the size of a large check. It was a ticket for the honeymoon I’d booked—a waste of money if not redeemed within three months. I