ISABELLE
“Isabelle.” Matteo’s voice was patient but firm. “How did you know?”
I took a breath, feeling his steady gaze on me. “A coworker mentioned it. She was going on about how beautiful the engagement party and civil ceremony were, how everyone’s been counting down to the white wedding in Iceland.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“She also mentioned you weren’t there,” I continued quietly. “For the first two events.”
Silence filled the car.
Matt’s hand dropped from my jaw, moving to rub the back of his neck—a gesture I was beginning to recognize as his tell when something made him uncomfortable.
“And my sister,” I added. “She’s been obsessing over your sister’s wedding dress. The whole internet was talking about it, apparently.”
“Of course they were,” he muttered, more to himself t
