I stare down at the picture, wondering if it is what I think it is. I know all too well what it is, but my brain won’t seem to process the information. “Are you serious?” I whisper.
Callan nods slowly. “I lost you for twelve years, Coralie. I never want to be without you again. I want to be your husband. I want to care for you and raise a family with you. I want to give you the most perfect life.” Carefully he takes the photo out of my hands and lets it fall to the floor. He lifts me and carries me over to a set of drawers on the other side of the room, where he opens the top drawer and produces the exact same small velveteen box that he just showed me in the photograph. He looks worried for a second, like he’s anxious about handing it over.
“I love you, Coralie. What do you say? Will you marry me?”
He doesn’t even need to open that box. He could have asked without even having a ring and I would be telling him the same thing. I feel like I’m about to pass out. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, you silly boy.”
I’m suddenly fifteen years old. I’m sitting on the floor of a library somewhere very far away, and there’s a boy looking at me like I’m the most perplexing creature he’s ever witnessed. I’m losing my virginity to him. I’m telling him that I love him. I’m telling him that I’m pregnant. I’m telling him that I’m leaving him. He’s telling me that he won’t ever let me go again. He’s telling me that everything will always be perfect now. He’s showing me that it’s true. I’m imagining the prospect of things to come. The children we’ll have. The roads we are yet to journey down. The adventures we will get to share.
Tears well in my eyes as Callan Cross kisses me, and I feel dizzy, weightless, like I’m soaring. Like I’m a bird.
What a life.