Chapter 4

That was why the 30-year-old me had handed the choice to me—the version of me that only remembered being 20—even if it was for the last time.

I texted Angeline. "Darling, what happened today was my fault. I'm sorry. Can you come home tomorrow? Please?"

…

Angeline did come back, but she brought Shawn with her.

The confetti I'd prepared for a proposal rained down and circled the two of them, turning me into the punchline all over again.

Angeline's face was thunderous. She brushed the streamers off herself with a scowl. "God, Caleb! I must be out of my mind. I knew there was something wrong with your head, and I still agreed to come back!"

She turned around, grabbed Shawn's hand, and started to leave.

As I watched her walk away without a backward glance, I suddenly thought of something. When I proposed to her ten years ago, had she also walked off looking this cold and fed up, leaving me there like an idiot?

I grabbed her hand and stopped her. "No! You can't go!"

Her eyes were full of impatience. "Get out of my way. Haven't you caused enough of a scene? How long are you planning to let Shawn stand here and see you make a fool out of yourself?"

Right on cue, Shawn smiled, the curve of his lips edged with open mockery.

I stared stubbornly at Angeline, shaking all over with the rush of emotions boiling up inside me. "I don't give a damn about him. I just wanna know whether you actually like me. If you don't, then why did you marry me? If you don't, then why have you worn the bracelet I gave you for ten whole years?"

I pointed at the strip of brown showing at her wrist.

Back when I was 19, I'd sanded those beads myself, then climbed what felt like a thousand steps to a chapel and begged the pastor there to bless them. It had been my birthday present to Angeline.

She froze. Shawn, on the other hand, let out a surprised sound. "Huh? You gave her that bracelet?"

He turned to Angeline. "Angie, isn't that the one I brought back for you from abroad?"

A deafening roar filled my ears. I felt like something inside me had just caved in.

I stared at Angeline in disbelief. "What's he talking about? That bracelet is mine. It's mine, isn't it?"

Her gaze skittered away; she wouldn't look at me. She even tucked her right hand behind her back. "Caleb, stop this nonsense—"

"This isn't nonsense! Let me see. I want to see the bracelet!"

Clinging to a final shred of hope, I caught her hand and slowly turned the beads over. The inside, where our initials were supposed to be carved, now clearly read Shawn's name instead.

In that moment, I suddenly felt like a joke. All that effort I'd poured into keeping this relationship going—it had all just been wishful thinking on my part.

I stumbled back a few steps and started laughing like I'd lost my mind. I laughed until my tears spilled over.

A crack split across the panic on Angeline's face. She instinctively stepped toward me, but then her eyes dropped to something on the floor. She froze.

It was the "ring" I'd planned to use for the proposal.

The last thing I remembered as a 20-year-old was my spur-of-the-moment proposal. I'd slid a Coke can tab onto her finger like it was a ring.

"Angeline Stone, you're mine now that you're wearing my ring. Will you marry me?" I'd asked.

Back then, when she'd looked at me, her eyes had held only me.

Maybe she remembered it, too. Her fingers twitched, her gaze landing on that makeshift ring on the floor and staying there for a long, long time.