IMOGEN'S POV
My heart started beating faster.
"Isaac Rossi, what did you do?"
"Just trust me." He took my hand, leading me up the front steps. "Please."
He opened the door and I stepped inside. The living room had been transformed. More white roses everywhere, their petals scattered across the hardwood floor. Candles flickered on every surface, casting warm golden light across the walls. The coffee table had been moved aside to make room for something I couldn't quite see.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
Isaac closed the door behind us, then turned to face me. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, his face more serious than I'd ever seen it. The scars on his neck and arms were visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves, proof of everything we'd survived together.
"Imogen." His voice was rough with emotion. "I need to tell you something."
