AT THE SAME TIME
MICHAEL'S POINT OF VIEW:
Later that night, Isabella and I escaped to the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, watching the moonlight paint silver across her hair. She leaned into my chest, humming softly.
"This was perfect." She said.
"Not how I pictured it." I admitted.
"Nothing ever is."She laughed.
"But it was ours." I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Exactly what we needed."
