The Lovely Return

When I was three years old, I started drawing a house with a red door. Next to the house I drew a happy family--a husband, a wife, a baby, and their dog. For years I cried every night, begging my mother to take me home to my real family. But one day I wandered straight to that house with the red door, and I found the man and the dog. Alex was quiet. A sexy, brooding artist. A grieving widower, suspended in time, never moving forward. As I grew up we developed an unlikely but easy friendship, bonding over our love of art. He felt familiar, his home felt like home. But as the years passed I found it harder to ignore not only my growing feelings for him, but the visions that played through my mind every time I got too close to him, or spent time in his house. Dreams, reality, and sanity began to blur until I came to a startling revelation. I wasn't having visions. I was having memories. Alex's late wife's memories, to be exact. Alex fights our connection, believing I'm off limits. He tries to do what's right--pushing away the only thing he's been wishing for since that tragic day when he lost everything. Or so he thinks. He was mine in a prior life. And I'm going to make him mine again.