Elara’s POV
He said my name like it was a memory he’d been holding in his mouth all this time.
“Elara?”
My breath caught midair. The gala lights blurred into soft golden halos as my pulse raced violently in my ears. For a moment, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. But that voice, that chuckle, I would know it anywhere.
“Rowan?” I whispered, disbelief heavy on my tongue.
The man before me grinned, his dimples cutting through his cheeks like the past had come to life. “Oh, come on, El. Don’t go fainting on me now.”
His arm slipped around my waist to steady me. And God, he still smelled like cedarwood and mint, that same maddening scent that used to cling to my pillow years ago.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. But he didn’t disappear.
The crowd of paparazzi swarmed
