My divorce is official as of yesterday afternoon. And now, not even twenty-four hours later, I’m standing in front of an altar, waiting for my new bride. Unbelievable.
The church’s tall door opens, and Isabella, on her father’s arm, steps inside. I take the opportunity to study my future wife as she approaches. Maybe it’s the light, but her face looks different from the last time I saw her for more than a fleeting second. She’s still breathtaking. Still the same long hair, huge eyes, and sharp cheekbones. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, but there’s something amiss. She gives the impression that she’s happy. A small smile is on her lips, and her head is held high—a picture-perfect image of a radiant bride. I move my gaze back to her eyes, and that’s when I see it. Her face might be sh
