Chapter 18
It was unmistakably Juliette.
Ciaran looked at the female figure standing on the other side of the river.
He stood right at the edge of a misty riverbank. It was dark. But the light from thousands of glowing butterflies and insects reflecting on the icy snow illuminated the scene. He recognized the familiar stream of flaming red hair wrapping around the delicate shoulders and cascading down the lower back.
Her hair looked like it did the first time they met—and the last time he saw her alive.
Her back was to him now, but if she turned and looked at him, Ciaran was more than certain that it was her beautiful face he would see.
Ciaran knew something wasn’t right. His wife had died. As much as he was sentimental about that, he knew he couldn’t change it. Even if he dreamed ab
