Chapter 3

My phone lit up while I was eating.

When I opened it, I saw the chat logs between Gillian Simmons and Joel James.

The conversation had taken place on the day my mother was diagnosed with coronary heart disease.

"I only said it in passing. I never thought you'd actually withdraw the money for her mother's treatment, Joel."

"Whatever you say, I take seriously."

"Won't Catherine make a scene if she finds out?"

"Let her. Worst case, I'll just coax her back. But you have to act like you know nothing about it, so she won't resent you."

I stared at that message and read it over and over, and couldn't help a self-mocking little laugh.

All because of one offhand joke from Gillian, he had taken my mother's life-saving money.

All because he was "afraid I'd resent her," he wouldn't even bother to explain.

He would rather make himself look bad than let Gillian suffer the slightest bit.

Just then, she posted to her social media feed.

I tapped into it without thinking.

The first thing I saw was a photo of her with her arm around Joel, captioned: My mother never had high blood pressure at all. It was all a show I wrote and performed myself, just to see how far a certain someone would go for me.

A friend commented, "Gillian, aren't you afraid it'll blow up in your face?"

She replied with a voice message in a coy, teasing tone:

"I just wanted to see where I stand in his heart. I didn't expect it—he scored a perfect ten."

I turned off my phone screen.

I got up and left the restaurant, heading home.

When I got home, I went straight into the bedroom and started packing.

I opened the cabinet, and there in the very center was the limited-edition warship model.

I'd planned to surprise him with it once my mother recovered.

I'd had to call in a lot of favors to get this model.

I'd kept imagining the look on his face when he received it.

Would he pull me into an excited hug?

Would he stand there frozen?

I gently stroked the model. I'd already polished it until it gleamed.

Five years together—should I give him one more chance?

In the small hours of the morning, Joel dragged his exhausted body home.

He turned on the living room light and saw me sitting on the sofa, stroking our photo album. He came over and pulled me tightly into his arms.

"Catherine," he said with regret, "I'm sorry. I lost my composure today."

He carefully cupped my face in his hands.

"Everything is my fault. I've already put the money back for your mother's surgery. Let's make this work and stop fighting, okay?"

I looked down into his hopeful eyes.

Then I went and brought out the warship model from the bedroom and handed it to him.

"Joel, I bought this just for you."

He stood there stunned, a look of delight spreading across his face as he stared at the model.

Then, with trembling hands, he took it.

He studied the model carefully, then set it on the table, snapped a photo, and sent it to someone.

"This is the one Gillian likes."

He said.

Watching him cradle his phone and chat away so eagerly, I couldn't help curving my lips into a self-mocking smile.

"Say that again."

"I said this is the one Gillian asked me to buy."

He stared hard at my face and said impatiently, "Catherine, don't think that just because you got hold of the model, you can use it to demand that I marry you. It's still not the time for me to marry you."

"Then when is the time? Just because you once said you wanted a warship model, I called in a lot of favors to get it."

"I know you went to a lot of trouble."

He said wearily.

"But that still can't be your reason to pressure me into marrying you. Catherine, can't you stop being so impatient?"

The moment my nose started to sting, I suddenly remembered how he had held my hand in Fairbanks and said solemnly, "Catherine, let's get married as soon as we get back. I can't wait any longer."

How different things were now. From the same man's mouth, five years later, it had all become "scheming."

Seeing how pale my face had gone, his tone eased, and he kissed me on the cheek.

"Tomorrow I'll go with you to visit your mother. Once we've both calmed down and can sit and talk it through, we'll discuss marriage, all right?"

I let him kiss me.

His kiss was tender and careful, but my heart didn't stir at all.

Afterward I coaxed him into going into the bedroom to catch up on his sleep.

Looking at the closed bedroom door, I packed the model into my suitcase.

I took one last look at the home I'd lived in for five years, then wheeled my suitcase out the door.

Since the one he cared about most wasn't me, I'd give up my place.