But when?
My stomach sank and a chill raced up my spine.
No. It wasn’t possible. He would have said something if he’d known me before the crash. There had to be an explanation. There just…had to be.
In the picture, my arm was draped around his neck, so I squinted to look at my wrist.
The scars would be there. They’d be there and I could breathe again, and then when he woke up, he’d tell me a hilarious story about why he’d had the picture made. Maybe Aaron had supplied him with an older photo of me, and he’d had some graphic design buddy put it together. Why? I had no idea, but there must have been a reason.
He wouldn’t have lied to me. Not Bowen.
Yet, even as I told myself that, my hands began to shake.
There was no scar on my wrist in that picture and that knowledge only made it feel like they were being carved into my heart instead.
Setting the frame aside, I dug deeper into the box, hoping for answers that would explain everything—or anything at all.
There were dog sweaters, little costumes small enough for Sugar. A woman’s hoodie. A pink bathrobe. Some fuzzy socks. A few T-shirts and sleep pants, none of which I recognized. It had to have been Sally’s stuff. A few mementos he’d kept from his lost love.
But at the very bottom was a small flash drive.
Had it not been for that framed picture, I would have put everything back, closed the box, and walked away because whatever was on that flash drive was none of my business.
But that photo of me and Bowen made it not only my business but my number-one priority.
Abandoning the shoes, I tucked the flash drive into my bra and shoved everything back into the box before sliding it back into place—hidden in his closet.
My hands shook, but I drew in a deep breath, calming myself as I exited the closet on the off chance that I’d woken him.
He was still sound asleep, so I quietly and quickly padded through the room and into the hall, shutting the bedroom door behind me. My laptop was at home, so I went straight to Bowen’s office in his third bedroom. I was familiar with his setup as I’d used his laptop countless times to send emails or contracts during the nights I’d spent at his house. After I opened it and turned it on, I waited for the screen to illuminate and then inserted the flash drive into the side.
My heart pounded in my chest as I navigated my way to opening the right drive on the computer. I had no idea what I was going to find. For all I knew, I was about to walk down memory lane with Bowen and Sally. There were times when I’d been jealous of her—I’d always felt guilty and childish immediately after. With a sick feeling churning in my stomach, I’d have given anything for another woman’s face to pop up on that screen.
But the clicking of the mouse was nothing more than the ticking of a bomb, ready to explode.
As I opened the first picture of me laughing, mouth open, eyes closed, Bowen’s smiling lips pressed to the side of my face, I felt every single piece of shrapnel slice through me.
“What the fuck,” I whispered to myself, moving to the next picture.
This one was almost exactly the same as the first, but I’d opened my eyes.
Pressing the arrow key, I scanned from picture to picture. It played out like a movie of us laughing in his bed. His comforter was different, but the headboard and the end tables were the same.
My chest got so tight it felt like it was on the brink of splintering.
The next series was more selfies of the two of us. I didn’t know where they had been taken, but it was all too clear we were in love. Had it not been for Bowen’s lack of a beard, I would have sworn they’d been taken just yesterday.
With a boulder in my throat, I continued to scroll, trying to match memories to the images on the screen—but there was nothing to be found inside my head. At some point, the mood of the photos changed. My smile had dimmed, and dark circles hung under my eyes. Bowen looked equally as tired and disheveled. But we were together in every single fucking photo. In love but miles apart.
I slapped a hand over my mouth when I reached a series of me in a hospital bed, my wrists bandaged, Bowen down on one knee with a ring box open in his hand. I couldn’t breathe as I clicked to the next image.
We’d been engaged?
I’d been engaged?
Apparently, I’d said yes, because in the following photos, his eyes were red, tears streamed down my cheeks, and a diamond sat proudly on my ring finger.
