Max was not the kind of person who believed in visions, or fate, or any of that. But looking at Dani standing there in that white dress, her hair done up in an elaborate braided updo, he underwent some sort of . . . moment, a record skip in his chest, where he saw himself at a different wedding. He had a moment when he thought, Mine. And then the text from the lawyer, as if fate were a real thing, as if it had decided to favor him for once.
