Cole’s POV

The exact moment the word wedding leaves Isabella’s mouth, something inside me dies quietly and peacefully, like a small candle being blown out by the universe. It is not dramatic. It is not loud. It is simply the sudden, deep, soul-level understanding that I have once again lost control of my own life. Not to criminals. Not to work. Not even to fate. But to two eight-year-old humans who still believe glitter is a personality trait. The word floats in the air for less than a ...