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We sat there for a moment, two people with lives full of ordinary damage.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
“Why keep looking?” I whispered. “All these years?”
Dan didn’t hesitate.
“Because we never got our chance,” he said. “Because I never stopped loving you.”
I let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in me since I was 17.
Then I remembered the post.
“You love me now?” I asked, half-laughing through the sting. “At 62?”
“I’m 63,” he said, smiling gently. “And yes.”
My eyes burned. I blinked fast because I hate crying in public.
Then I remembered the post.
“The important thing,” I said. “What did you need to return?”
Dan reached into his coat pocket and placed something on the table.
“I found it during the move.”
A locket.
My locket.
The one with my parents’ photo inside. The one I lost senior year and mourned like it was a body.
“I found it during the move,” he said softly. “You left it at my house. It got packed in a box. I kept it safe. I told myself I’d give it back someday.”
My fingers shook as I opened it.
“I couldn’t let it go.”
My parents smiled up at me, untouched by time.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt.
“I thought it was gone forever,” I whispered.
“I couldn’t let it go,” he said.
We sat in a quiet pocket of the café while the world went on around us.
Finally, Dan cleared his throat.
“I’m not giving up my job.”
“I don’t want to rush you,” he said. “But… will you give us a chance? Not to redo 17. Just to see what’s left for us now.”
My heart pounded.
“I’m not giving up my job,” I said immediately, because apparently that’s who I am.
Dan laughed, relieved. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
I took a slow breath.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m willing to try.”
On Monday morning, I found Emily at her locker.
His face softened. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.
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