Grace's POV

I woke wrapped in Hunter's warmth, his arm heavy across my waist, his breath steady against the back of my neck. Morning light filtered through the massive windows, painting everything in shades of gold.

For a moment, just one perfect moment, I let myself exist in this bubble where nothing could touch us. That everything was right in the world.

My husband.

The word still felt foreign in my mind. Hunter Sinclair was my husband. The man I'd loved for years, the man I'd watched ...