Everyone was a wreck after two games of Drunk Jenga, so Aaron loaded them into cabs and sent them home. Finally, he had peace and quiet.

He had to admit, though, the party games weren't nearly as bad as he'd expected. Aiden had done a decent job. He'd tell him so later.

Was this what having friends was like? He'd never really had male friends before. He had acquaintances, but that was the extent of it. Even Aiden and Cameron were work friends until he was unexpectedly asked to be best man.

Aaron hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't realized Cameron actually valued his presence. He'd assumed their relationship was strictly professional, even though Cameron teased him occasionally.

It warmed his heart. Yes, they frequently annoyed him, but he couldn't deny things would be much more boring without them. Maybe they really were friends after all. How novel.

He sprawled on the couch and sighed. The Keeley of the past would have been proud of him for making friends. Right now, she probably didn't care.

Things had changed so much—he had changed so much—but she refused to see it. She was stuck in the past. If only she could accept his change and move forward with him, they might have a chance at a normal relationship.

It was a stupid thought. She wasn't going to forgive him anytime soon. She wouldn't even care if he got hurt seeing her in the morning.

Keeley was up all night, tormented by Jennica's parting words. She wasn't in much better shape than the other bridesmaids the next morning as she got her nails painted.

They all got French manicures with small orange and red flowers, since Jennica wanted to incorporate all the wedding colors, and the bridesmaids' dresses were hot pink. Keeley liked bright colors, but this was excessive. At least this dress wasn't as badly designed as the last one.

She wanted to rub the sleep from her eyes, but couldn't because her nails were wet. Why had her friend's words bothered her so much?

Two questions arose from their conversation: Were their issues resolvable? And did she still care about him? She couldn't reach a satisfactory conclusion, hence her sleepless night.

The first question was easier to answer. Their personalities, values, and lifestyles were too different to reconcile; their first life had proven that. But did she still care?

Initially, she didn't think so. She was too angry. But Jennica had a point—if she were truly over him, wouldn't she have developed feelings for someone else in the five years they were apart, even if she was too afraid to act on them?

Keeley hadn't even had a passing crush during that time. She was too busy living her life and trying to forget Aaron.

She certainly hadn't expected positive interactions with him again, but when he returned, he was different. He was how she'd always wished he'd been.

She'd actually started developing a small crush on him before discovering he retained his memories. That knowledge instantly killed it, and her desire to be left alone returned with a vengeance.

But did she still care? She wasn't sure.

Admittedly, she'd hoped he'd move on and be happy, mostly because she didn't think he'd leave her alone otherwise. That didn't necessarily mean she cared about him as a person.

Curse Jennica for making her overthink! She didn't know the details of their past. How could she confidently claim Aaron was desperately in love with her? He'd never done anything to show it. Ever.

Being nice was far from being desperately in love, especially if that niceness stemmed from guilt. He'd said he wanted to make amends in this life—something a guilty person might say.

"Keeley, come on! We're going to be late for the rehearsal," Jennica said impatiently.

Keeley realized she was the last one in the nail salon. Everyone else was waiting—she'd been lost in thought again. It was an awful feeling.

She hoped the rehearsal wouldn't differ much from Lydia's, so her absentmindedness wouldn't matter. One major difference: as maid of honor, she'd be closest to the bride and first down the aisle.

And she had to walk with Aaron. Ugh. The last thing she wanted after overthinking about someone was to see them immediately afterward.

Keeley was unexpectedly nervous seeing the back of his head at the venue. She decided to be friendly; they'd be together for a couple of hours.

"Hey, Aaron!" she called.

He flinched but didn't turn around. Didn't he hear her?

She tried again. "Aaron?"

He ignored her. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She was trying her best. What was his problem? Wasn't he the one constantly bothering her? Why wouldn't he respond?

She marched toward him, ready to demand an explanation, when she saw his face. She wasn't expecting the worst black eye she'd ever seen.

"What happened to your face?!"

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