The boy who’d taken me to prom.
The boy who disappeared from my life the following morning without so much as a goodbye.
For months afterward, I’d wondered what I’d done wrong.
I’d waited for a phone call.
A letter.
An explanation.
Nothing ever came.
Finalmente, me obligué a seguir adelante.
Y ahora, treinta años después, estaba sentado frente a mí en medio del océano.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Peter looked down.
“I know.”
“You disappeared.”
– Sí.
“Nunca llamaste. Nunca escribiste”.
“I know.”
“Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
His expression tightened.
“I was seventeen, Eleanor. My parents had already decided what my future would look like.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“My father wanted me to marry his business partner’s daughter. They threatened to cut me off completely if I refused.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
