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“And you left.” Asher shook his head.
I wished Jack was here to back me up. He’d been there, in Atlee’s condo, when I told her I was staying in Vegas with her and she told me to leave. He’d been there when I reminded her she said she’d loved me and she still kicked me out. He’d also been there when Atlee squared her shoulders, pulled up all that attitude I loved, and told me she needed time and I was going to give it to her.
“She wanted time, I’m giving that to her.”
“Some asshole once told me women take on shit that is not theirs to bear and they do it quietly until the weight’s so heavy they can’t see their way out of it. That same asshole told me not to let it fester and to dig it out,” Rhode smoothly rejoined. “Wait, that was you. You’re the asshole who gave me that advice.”
My teeth clenched.
“I think I remember someone once telling me to love my woman harder than the memories that weighed her down,” Davis threw out and looked at me. “So the new question is, are you going to let Atlee love you harder than your memories?”
“Yes.”
My answer was met with silence.
“She has until this weekend, then I’m going back to Vegas,” I told them. “She wanted time, I gave it to her. I also gave it to myself. I needed to make sure when I went back to her I was free and clear.”
The last ten days had been an excruciating exercise of self-reflection. It was an uncomfortable feeling having to admit to myself that over the years I had deluded myself thinking it was the truth. I was guilty of a lot of things, but Barb’s depression wasn’t one of them. Her illness was no one’s fault and the fact that she and her family had hidden it from me would never stop being a course of pain. I’d loved my wife and part of me loving her meant I wanted to give her what she wanted—that didn’t mean I’d failed her.
I’m sorry I never told you. I know you would’ve helped. I just wanted to be normal.
It was the “normal” part that was burned into my soul. Barb thinking she wasn’t normal because of her depression. She was perfect as she was. When I let the guilt slip away, the real memories filtered back in. The good ones. How her kindness and soft heart drew me to her. How funny she was. How sweet and generous. The woman loved unconditionally.
That was who I now remembered.
The tragic end of her life was not the sum of it.
I hadn’t failed her any more than she’d failed me.
That was the hardest pill to swallow—understanding that part of my guilt was really anger at her for leaving me like she had. I couldn’t say my guilt had vanished, but I was no longer feeding it. I wasn’t going home at night and reading Barb’s last letter to me. Not that I needed to read it, I’d long ago memorized every word, but seeing her handwriting was the device I used to torture myself. Kept it fresh in my mind. Made sure I never forgot. Watching that letter burn was my final act of letting her go. It was agonizing watching the words disappear into smoke as much as it was cathartic.
She was at peace.
I was learning how to be.
And now I was ready to fall to my knees and beg Atlee for a chance to prove to her there was no man on this earth who could love her the way I did.
Ten days of torture was a small price to pay for a lifetime of making my woman happy.
“Well, that wasn’t as fun as I thought it’d be,” Davis snickered. “I had some good shit ready to throw at you to make you see reason.”
“You mean you were prepared to plagiarize a bunch of dead philosophers.”
Davis looked at Asher and smirked.
“Don’t be salty. It’s not my fault you can’t read big words and comprehend subtext.”
Asher flipped off Davis and turned back to me.
“You need anything from us?”
For the first time I actually considered an offer of help.
My go-to was to wave off support from my team.
I was done with that shit, too.
“Not right now, but I’ll reach out if I do.”
