Chapter 2

"Ms. Shaw, the floor's freezing." Peter held out a hand. "Come on. Let me help you up."

The doctor behind him went into Ashton's room, but Peter stayed with me.

"Winnie Kenton's situation is… complicated. She saved Mr. Grant's life. They met years ago while participating in extreme sports. She's terminally ill, and Mr. Grant made her a promise. He said he'd see the world for her."

Even with his help, it took me several tries to get back on my feet.

Outside the windows, the sun was blazing, but I was freezing.

"Right. That's what everyone keeps telling me. I guess that makes me the selfish one."

I pulled my hand from his and braced myself against the wall. The cold tile seeped into my palm as I slowly made my way down the hallway, one painful step at a time.

It was as cold as Ashton's heart. And no matter how hard I tried, I could never make it warm.

I had no idea how I made it home. At some point, I found myself lying on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

My phone lit up with a message from Ashton. "You home yet? Are you still mad at me?"

I could picture him as he typed it. He must be calm and composed.

"No," I replied.

Another message came through. "I ordered you some flowers. They should be there soon. Make sure you bring them inside."

"Why did you buy me flowers?"

"Because you like them."

The doorbell rang just as the message appeared. I opened the door.

A bouquet of 99 roses sat on the doorstep, but I didn't touch them. Without saying a single word, I closed the door.

Of all the flowers he could have chosen, roses were the ones I hated most.

They reminded me of my stepmother. On the day of Mom's funeral, she'd filled our house with roses. It was as if she couldn't wait to make one thing clear—that the house belonged to her now.

"Put them in a vase and send me a picture. A wide shot. As soon as you can."

I pointed my camera toward the corner of the living room and snapped a picture without much thought.

Then, just like that, the messages stopped.

It didn't feel like Ashton was trying to make me feel better. It felt like he'd given me an assignment.

Something salty touched my lips.

I rarely checked Instagram, but when I noticed the notification badge that day, something made me open it.

The first post on my feed stopped me cold.

It was my home. More precisely, it was the photo I'd taken only moments ago. But Ashton wasn't the one who had posted it.

Winnie Kenton had.

I'd been financially supporting Winnie for six years, ever since a severe fever triggered complications from a congenital condition she'd had since birth.

For six years, I'd thought that I was helping a stranger in need. I never imagined I'd been paying the medical bills of my boyfriend's first love.

Her caption was only five words. "Finally, I have a home."

There was more than one photo in the post. The first was mine. The second was an architectural rendering that Winnie had drawn herself. It was a design for my home.

My stomach turned. I barely made it to the bathroom before I doubled over the sink, retching. There was nothing to throw up.

And still, as if I were determined to hurt myself, I went back to Winnie's profile and kept scrolling.

That was when I finally understood what everyone meant by their "promise".

Winnie's birthday was February 14. So Ashton had promised to travel to 214 places for her. He wanted her to feel as though she were there with him.

He'd even had Winnie's name tattooed over his heart. In every photo, he held a picture of her up to the camera, taking her with him everywhere he went.

I'd never seen a single one of those pictures, yet Winnie's Instagram had every last one.

They had fiercely loved each other once.

And apparently, even breaking up hadn't been enough to truly separate them.

All those days when Ashton had been unreachable, when I couldn't get so much as a text back from him, he'd been checking in with Winnie every single day.

My thumb kept moving mechanically across the screen. My mind had gone completely blank except for one thought—I needed to see Winnie.

But when I arrived at the private care facility, the first thing I saw was Ashton's car. He had only just regained consciousness. Yet, the moment he was out of that hospital bed, he'd come straight here to see another woman.

Beneath the shade of a tree, Ashton sat in a wheelchair. Winnie was curled against him with her head in his lap, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

I stood at a distance, watching them. I really was the outsider now.

There was a tenderness on Ashton's face I'd never seen before. "Hey, come on. Don't cry. I'm okay. And I haven't forgotten what I promised you. I'll see it through."

I took out my phone and called him. Ashton glanced at the screen and hesitated. Then he motioned for Winnie to be quiet before finally answering.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember what you promised me?" I asked. "You said that when you got back, we'd go look at wedding venues."

From where I stood near the entrance, I had a perfect view of his face.

I saw the confusion in his eyes. It seemed that he didn't remember.

"I'm still at the hospital getting treatment. How am I supposed to go with you right now? But don't worry. As soon as I'm discharged, we'll go. You'll be the first thing I take care of, okay?"

"No."

He paused. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean we don't need to go anymore," I said it slowly this time, making sure that there was no room for misunderstanding.

My hand was shaking so badly around the phone that I could barely hold on to it. "I'm not marrying you, Ashton."