Amelia’s POV
He’s standing right in front of me. Wearing a black suit tailored to perfection, crisp white shirt, no tie. His storm-gray eyes locked on mine like a puzzle he’s spent years trying to resolve.
The same Man from the hospital, claiming to be my husband. Now upclose, surrounded by light, sound and people. For some reason he looks even more real, solid and commanding.
His shoulders broader. Jaws more defined than it was a couple of years ago. His hair shorter, swept neatly to the back.
Familiar?
No. That’s not the word. But there’s something in his presence that pulls deep in my gut. Like a note of a song I almost remember.
He doesn’t speak immediately. Neither do I.
My breat hitches somewhere in my throat. The sounds of the gala dull to a muffled hum. And for a long seco
