Page 82 of The Gathered Fragments of Us
Chapter 32: Apology Tour
~Caden~
I sat there listening to my wife, seeing the struggle in her as she tried to explain her feelings and how she thought they made her selfish. She was apologizing. For her feelings. For being human. Fuck, this is all my fault.
"Felicity," I said quietly, waiting until she looked at me. "Please. Please, stop apologizing."
"But I—"
Softly, but firmly, I said, "No. I'm begging you to stop." I turned to face her fully, my heart breaking seeing her try to hold back tears. "You don't have a single thing to apologize for. Not one thing."
She leaned her head back, as if resigned to not know what to do with her feelings. Reaching forward, I placed my hand along the curve of her cheek. I felt love wash over me as she nuzzled her cheek into my hand, letting me give her comfort in this moment, something I was so deeply undeserving of.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked. "About the last few years?"
She opened her eyes and gave a slight nod.
I dropped my hand a bit, blowing out a breath of air while I worked to find my words. "When the company almost went under a few years back, I was terrified. Not just of losing the business, but of losing everything. The pandemic almost broke it. I mean, I know you know, but thinking back on how we skated by in the black through most of it, and then when business didn'tpick back up right away, we were so deep in the red that I really didn't think we would have a choice but to close the doors."
I took a deep breath, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I moved so I could face her completely, sitting on the coffee table in front of her—my hands on her knees, elbows on mine. "I was terrified of all the jobs that could be lost, of having to start over. I became afraid of not being able to provide for you, for us." I paused, trying to catch my thoughts as they ran through my head a mile a minute.
"When we met, I had already had the company—for a number of years in fact. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if I was suddenly not just an unemployed failure, but possibly buried under debt and bankruptcy filings, and all the turmoil that would come with me being such a catastrophic disappointment."
"You never said anything." She placed her hands on top of mine. "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was? You told me that there were struggles and that you were trying to keep everything from folding, but you didn't tell me how close you were to completely shutting down." Her words came out as a whisper.
"I know. And I think that is where I started to go wrong. I didn't talk about it, allowing embarrassment to steal my words—trying to keep my work and my home lives separate—which was obviously the wrong choice," I offered a chagrined half smile.
"If you had included me, I would have been there for you. I would have told you that I didn't marry you for your damned company. I married you because I love you and it had nothing to do with the dollars in your bank account."
"I honestly think that the humiliation of telling you how bad it had kept me from saying anything." I looked her in the eyes and said, "and that was wrong."
I took a beat and just stared into her eyes, letting her see everything in my soul—my sorrow, my regret, my love, my heart. I wanted her to see it all. No holding back.
"I lost sight of you," I said, voice cracking and tears starting to fall. "I let my own self-consciousness about my failure bleed into our marriage and I broke something between us. It was me who let you become invisible. You shouldn't have to tell me the things you needed in order to feel loved. Seen. I made assumptions that I'd take care of things at work, and you'd always be there, always be understanding, willing to wait for me to have the time for us."
She was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face.
"The purse," I continued, my throat tight. "I know it wasn't about the purse alone. It was about three years of me making you feel like an afterthought in our marriage. Three years of you sitting and waiting for me to notice you. Three years of you feeling smaller and smaller until you fit into the parts of our life left behind."
"I should have said something sooner," she whispered.
"No." I turned my hands up to intertwine our fingers. "You really shouldn't have had to. I'm your husband and I should have noticed when my wife is disappearing. You said it yourself, a husband protects his wife, her gifts, her heart. I should have made you feel cherished, not like you were in competition for a place in my life."
I squeezed her hands gently. "You know what kills me the most?"
She shrugged lightly, encouraging me to continue.
"You think you're being selfish for wanting something you never got to have. But I'm sitting here realizing it's my fault you feelthat way. I made you feel like your wants didn't matter. Like you didn't matter."
"But the locket—"
"The locket is beautiful, and I'm glad you love it. It is an expression of my love—of the love both Macy and I have for you. But Felicity, I also know it doesn't erase three years of me failing you. One great gift doesn't replace the countless forgotten moments and missed chances to show you how much you mean to me. I know that, and I want you to know that I truly understand that."
I felt like I was rambling now, but in for a penny…"There's only so much I can say about the past though. I can apologize until kingdom come, but it is completely meaningless if I don't back it up with action. It's not lost on me—not like the last three years have been," I gave a little laugh, trying to lighten the moment for her, looking back up at her, I asked, "too soon?"
She laughed. Through her tears, I could see a small spark, "yes!" Still laughing she continued, "too soon, but not too soon. I can use a small moment of relief from all the stomach swirling, you know?"
With a light huff, I looked down and responded, "yeah, honey. I know. And I'm going to give you that relief. Come hell or high water, I will find a way to make things right with us."
