Page 28 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
Making my way back to the hotel, I dropped off all my new purchases—which included a duffle bag so I could get all my retail therapy results home tomorrow. I quickly touched up my hair and makeup, dressed in my new duds, and headed back out the door. I had a sunset cruise to get to.
I arrived just in time for the 7 PM cruise. I boarded the double-decker boat with a coconut water in hand and claimed a rail seat. Families were posing, influencers angling their phones for golden-hour selfies, and children were running around excited for the sunset tour. The skyline ignited in pink and tangerine.
Halfway through, the captain cut the engine for photos. Phones rose up; I closed my eyes and breathed—four counts in, six out—the way I had learned in my yoga classes. Warm wind, salt on my lips, a city buzzing behind me yet somehow far away. For the first time in a long time, the quiet inside my head was louder than the world outside. This was the life. This birthday had been unexpected but, in truth, it might have been the best birthday I had ever had.
Closing out the night, I sat on my balcony back at the hotel. Sandals were askew off to the side, a final glass of wine in hand from room service, I again breathed in and out. I snapped a selfie with my phone so I could seal this memory forever. Changing my phone screen to the new picture, I looked at myself—really looked. And I saw a woman who looked younger than she had when she arrived in Miami just a couple days ago. She was kissed by the sun, cheeks blushing, eyes alight with joy and calm. I saw a woman finally at peace with herself—ready to go home and have the conversation with Caden that needed to happen.
Before going to sleep for the night, I set the postcard I had purchased earlier against the lamp. Stamped and ready to be mailed, I didn’t want to forget to send it out in the morning. It would reach me in a couple days, but having the postmark from Miami felt like something special and different for this birthday.
With my alarm set for morning, I climbed into bed and exhaled a sigh of contentment. I drifted off to sleep with the realization that, whatever tomorrow brought, I would face it head-on—no fear and no anxiety could hold me back.
Chapter 13: Lifelines
~Caden~
Cash picked up on the second ring. "You alive or what?"
His voice was still half-asleep, a low growl that told me I'd woken him up. It was almost 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday! I could practically hear the scratch of stubble as he rubbed his face.
"I need to talk," I said. "Got a minute?"
There was a pause. An aggrieved sigh. Then, a rustle of sheets. "Hang on, lemme get coffee. If you're calling me before noon on a Saturday, shit must be serious."
I waited. Pacing. Trying not to second-guess this.
A minute later he was back. "Alright, shoot."
I let out a long breath. "So... I fucked up. With Felicity."
"Bro. What do you mean, fucked up? Like you cheated on her?"
"What?! Jesus! No! What the fuck? Why would you go there?"
He blew out a breath. "Well, you said you fucked up. That's the biggest fuck-up there is. So then, what did you do? Forget her birthday or something?
I was silent on my side of the line. How did he guess that?
"No man. No way. You didn't."
"Fuck! Yes. I did. I seriously did."
"Caden. Jesus. I'm telling Mom."
"Shut up, man. Mom knowing is the least of my issues. Listen! I'm calling for help. It's more than just her birthday. I've kinda been absentee for a while now. Work got to me. I failed to really pay attention to her and to focus on our relationship. I'm at a point now where I'll be lucky if she gives me the chance to win her back. I'm not shitting you, man. It's bad."
He sighed. "Damn Caden. I'm really sorry. We love Felicity. She's incredible. I hate that this is happening. So, yeah, man. I'll help you with whatever. What can I do?"
"To start with, she's in Miami for her birthday. Alone."
He was quiet. Letting me talk.
So, I told him everything. About the purse. The note. The fight. Her leaving. Macy's tears. The gifts that Jessica had been getting all these years now, the fact that I've forgotten anniversaries, birthdays, you name it. I put it all out there for him to hear. It was hard having to vocalize everything. To hear my own words tell someone how much of an asshole I've been."
When I finished, he whistled. "Damn. You've been busy screwing up, huh?"
"Yeah. I can't even blame her for leaving."
"Look, I could roast you, but you already did that yourself. So I'll say this instead: she didn't leave because she stopped loving you. She left because she stopped feeling loved by you. There's a difference."
