I've loved Maeve Wilder my whole life. She's never seen me as more than a friend but that's my fault. By the time I was brave enough to confess my feelings, I was too late. She met the man she would marry and it wasn't me. I missed my chance. Now we're in our thirties, still the best of friends, and I've made peace with the fact my unrequited love will never amount to more than a wild crush. Mostly. But...