My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the image in my hands.
“Valerie?” Callum’s gentle voice came through the door again. “Please open the door so I can talk to you.”
I unlocked the door slowly and pulled it open to reveal my husband standing there. He was still wearing his hotel robe with his messy hair sticking up, looking less like a guilty man and more like a sad puppy who knew he was in trouble.
“Rosalie,” he said with a long, heavy sigh.
“Who is Rosalie?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“She is one of your grandmother’s old friends from the historical society,” he explained carefully.
I stared at him, trying to process his words. “She helped me track down the jeweler who bought the ring years ago,” he continued, taking a step closer to me. “Her cousin happens to work at that jewelry shop, and it took almost a full year of layaway payments to buy it back.”
I looked down at the photograph in my hands again, feeling tears prickling the backs of my eyes.
“I was planning to surprise you with it on the beach when we reached Costa Rica,” he said quietly.
