Page 7 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
She was right when she called me out for not even apologizing. I'd been too wrapped up in my thoughts—thinking about Macy's happiness and my own defensiveness.
I picked up my phone. Scrolled through our texts.
Me at various times—"Running late." "In a meeting." "Order without me." "Lauren will handle it." "Can you pick up my dry cleaning?"
I sighed. I'm an asshole.
Then, I looked over responses or impromptu messages. Even the tone was different: "Love you," "Thinking of you," "Miss you," "Don't forget—dinner with my sister Saturday."
I'd forgotten about the dinner months ago when Maliyah was up visiting from Florida.
"Fuck." The word echoed in the empty office.
I opened a browser.
How to apologize when sorry isn't enough… Romantic gestures for milestone birthdays… How to be a better husband…How to tell your kid no
Useless. Nothing useful for this specific kind of failure.
I pulled up the Dior website again. That perfect, powder-beige bag stared back like it knew exactly what it had ruined.
Macy's face lit up when she tried it on. She'd felt so grown up. But Felicity's face when she saw it on Macy—that was the look that's going to haunt me.
At work, I don't second-guess my decisions. At home? I bend. I soften. I let things slide in the name of peace and forgiveness for not being a full-time dad.
I grabbed my phone again and opened my messages with Felicity.
Me:I know you don't want to hear from me. But I love you. I heard you. I love you. I'll do better— «Delete»
Me:I'm going to fix this. I know— «Delete»
Me:I'm sorry. She just looked so happy wi— «Delete»
What could I possibly say in a text? I didn't even know what I wanted to say yet.
I had less than a week until she turned forty.
Mere days to figure this out.
Just days to become the husband she deserves instead of the one I've been.
Time to learn who Caden Barrett really is and what he stands for.
And maybe more importantly—
Time to humble myself. I refuse to lose the love of my life.
Me:I love you— «Send»
Chapter 3: Storm Warning
~Felicity~
I woke up to a quiet that was so soundless it was almost deafening.
No footsteps. No voices. No TV. No clinking bowls in the kitchen.
I shivered. Why did we have two vents in this room? The AC had been running all night, blasting cold that hit me from head to toe. Matching the way I felt inside. There weren't enough blankets in the world to warm me last night. I thought of my sister and her constant need to be cold—the room was the perfect temperature for her.
