Elisabeth's POV
As a little girl, I used to dream about my wedding day. In my imagination, it took place in a magnificent ballroom draped entirely in white silk. Every detail would be flawless, from the perfect roses to the gleaming marble floors. My parents would place an ornate mirror at the entrance so guests could check their appearance before entering the sacred space.
That childhood fantasy always featured a faceless boy waiting for me at the altar. He had no name, no identity, just a warm presence that made my heart flutter.
My wedding to Andy had been nothing like that dream. We were fated mates, and Uncle Rex's connection to his family made it inevitable, but something always felt hollow about it. Wrong, somehow.
Now, as I prepared to walk down another aisle, every detail matched what the little girl in me had always wanted. The venue was breathtaking, elegant beyond my wildest dreams.
And this time, the boy at the end had a face. Jefferson's face.
