Seeing my ex-husband four years after the ink dried on our divorce papers was not part of my plan. Returning to the small town where we’d grown up and fallen in love to rebuild my life at the exact time he’d chosen to do the same thing wasn’t part of my plan either. It was, however, the reality.Back in the place where it all began so many years ago, memories of our past, both good and bad, consumed me. I’d never stopped loving him, needing him, wanting him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, seeing him. Stolen moments told me he felt the same way.But could he ever forgive me?Could I ever forgive myself?Infertility had torn our marriage apart, bit by excruciating bit. Was our love strong enough to put it back together?