Love, Michael: A Story of Regrets and Second Chances

Michael,

Twenty years ago, I spent our wedding night alone and was given a letter outlining the day and time of our divorce. Now it's our daughter's wedding day, and your smile tells me you're here for more than to walk her down the aisle.
 

When we met, it was the summer of Shania Twain, the color of mocha iced lipstick, sand and sable perfume, and the summer I became a 17-year-old mother. But time has changed me.
 

So tell me, why are you back?

Jill