I couldn't recall missing that many dinners or dates, though I knew there had been a few. She'd asked me to attend things that conflicted with work, or told me to take the weekend off when I was right in the middle of a contract negotiation, or asked if we could go out of town on vacation when things were too busy. Missing Rory’s appointments was one of the worst things I’d done, but both times I’d believed my excuses were valid. Refusing to attend the conflicting staff meeting or to fly to Seattle in order to assist with a deal that had almost fallen through might’ve cost me my job. Even still, I should've tried harder for my marriage. For my daughter. I’d failed them both, even with the best of intentions. That was evident now. But she'd never told me she was on the verge of leaving. She'd never made it clear that her requests weren't merely requests, but demands with consequences.
Had I known, I would've done more. I would've fought harder. Now, here I was trying to fight, and she was no longer interested. What was I supposed to do?
I stayed under the water, letting it run over me as I thought about all that had gone wrong and all that I needed to do to fix it, though I kept coming to a brick wall.
One thing was certain, Addy wanted me to get a place, and I couldn't stay at the motel much longer. I wanted to see my daughter, and if it would take getting an apartment, that's what I would do. I made the decision that as soon as I got back to the motel, I’d start searching real estate listings.
I turned off the water finally, begrudgingly, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my waist and wiping a dry spot on the mirror.
I remembered the days when Addy used to leave me messages drawn on our mirror after her shower, so that when I took mine, the steam would bring them back to life. I love you. Have a good day. See you tonight. Happy Birthday. Happy Anniversary. No matter what had been going on in our lives, her messages were a constant for so long. I wondered when they'd stopped. Why hadn't I noticed that then?
Without thinking, I traced my fingers across the foggy glass. I still love you.
I bit back at the anger toward myself as my vision blurred with tears, and I tapped my phone. I had just an hour until my meeting and still needed to get more of my things packed.
I walked from the bathroom and sank down onto the stool in front of her vanity, where she got ready every morning. I ran my fingers over her lipsticks and moisturizers. How many times had I walked past her getting ready without taking the time to appreciate her? Without telling her she was beautiful? It made me sick to think about all I'd once had that may now be taken away from me.
I grabbed the bag I'd pulled from the closet, already half full of clothes and hygiene items I'd taken from the bathroom, and snuck a picture of the two of us from the edge of her dresser. I tossed it inside, tucking it between two shirts so it wouldn't end up damaged.
Then, I put on clean, dry clothes and rubbed pomade through my hair, making sure to place my towel and dirty clothes into the hamper instead of leaving them on the floor like I so often did. I walked across the room, tucking the last of what would fit into the bag—a pair of running shoes, two hoodies, five ties, and two more dress shirts—inside, and zipped it up.
Before I left, I took a piece of paper from the notepad she kept next to the bed for random, late-night thoughts and jotted out a short note.
Addy,
I'm sorry for whatever pain I've caused you. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you enough or listen to you enough. I want you to know that I truly do hear you now. I understand that I hurt you, that I let you down, and I'm going to do better. I hear what you’re asking from me, and I want to be the man you deserve. Even if you never forgive me, I'll work every day to prove to you how much I love you. Because I do, Addy. I love you so much. I'm going to get my own place. I'm going to work less and make time for Rory. Just please don't shut me out, okay? Don't give up on us.
Love,
Wes
I laid the note on the bed and headed toward the door with the bag slung over my shoulder. As I walked through the house, I checked my phone, surprised to see a new Facebook friend request on the screen.
I opened the app and checked the name, recognizing the face of the man I'd run into at the grocery store. Elias Munn.
Suddenly, the memory came back to me with stunning clarity. I'd known Elias from high school, not college. I hadn't heard from him since graduation. We hadn't been friends then, by any stretch of the imagination. We ran in different circles, and while he focused on academics, I'd been more into sports. But times had changed, and who said we couldn't be friends now? When everyone else in my life seemed to want little to do with me, the idea of having a friend outside of work was incredibly appealing.
As I turned the key in the door, locking it up and sliding my phone into my pocket, I thought maybe Elias was exactly the kind of friend I needed. Someone who remembered who I’d once been, rather than someone who knew what I’d become.
When my meeting was over, I'd reach out to him.
Chapter Three
I walked into the bar
