My husband is standing before me. The one who died in a fiery car wreck only two weeks ago. And now here he is, still alive. I stare at him, the blood rushing in my ears. “Grant?” Those familiar eyes meet mine. “No,” he says. “I’m not Grant.” As much as I would love to believe that my husband didn’t somehow come back to life, there is nobody who can tell me the man standing in front of me isn’t Grant Lockwood. I was married to him, after all. I know what he looks like. And I know this is Grant. But the next words out of his mouth change everything. “I’m Brant. Grant’s identical twin.”
