She blew out the candles; took off her pretty, black stilettos. Unwound her curly hair from its mass of bobby pins. Wiped off her makeup which enhanced her incredibly breathtaking natural beauty only a little. Wrapped our dinners in plastic; shoved them in the fridge. Gave me a look, and stomped up the stairs.
Crap. I was in serious trouble.
I’d been held up at work—and by the time I had finally realized what time it was, and managed to find my phone and realize that it was dead, she had ignored all my calls from my work phone. I had been three hours late to our anniversary dinner, and it was safe to say that she was incredibly p***ed at me.
I deserved all of it that much I knew.
I just wish we could rewind time; I could have arrived exactly when I was supposed to; maybe even a couple of minutes earlier; we could have enjoyed her, no doubt, amazing dinner; cuddled and enjoyed a glass of wine while watching one of her favorite chick flick movies.
But none of that was going to happen—at least, not tonight. Or anytime soon afterwards.
I gulped in preparation before taking the stairs two at a time, entering our bedroom softly, ready to deeply apologize and ask for her forgiveness; if there was anything, anything at all, I could do to change this—prevent this, lessen her pain.
“I’m so sorry sweetie. I’m so, so sorry babe—“
She glared, nostrils flaring; “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t call me that. Don’t call me sweetie, baby, babe, baby girl; pretty girl. Don’t do any of that. You forgot.”
“You forgot—and I mean, I know you’re such a forgetful person; I know everyone deserves a second chance; maybe even more than a couple of chances after that. God knows I screw up enough for the both of us, as it is.”
“But—But it was our anniversary. You should be lucky I haven’t kicked you out of the house by now. Here; you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Don’t even think of sneaking in here at the middle of the night. Trust me—I won’t be sleeping. And if I do, it’s because I’m so exhausted from sobbing, that I literally cry myself to sleep,” she stated, the sobs clawing at her throat as she bit back a whimper, throwing a pillow and blanket at me.
I knew I deserved this. I just wish I didn’t.
I sighed, ducking my head in shame as I picked up the blanket and pillow, trudging out of our room, across the cherry hardwood floor, down the stairs, and to the living room, laying out the blanket and curling up onto the couch, letting the distressed, broken down tears roll down my cheeks.
I deserved this.
I deserved all of this.

I had somehow managed to cry myself to sleep around 4 AM, worn out and too tired to do anything else but obey my brain and finally surrender to sleep. I only woke when I felt her arms wrap tightly around me, her breaths uneven and irregular as she tried not to wake me.


I grumbled, careful not to instinctively roll over, as I opened my eyes, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist, getting what little time I knew I was going to be allowed with her.

“You know I’m only cuddling with you because I need you next to me when I sleep, right? It’s not because I’ve forgiven you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to honestly forgive you for this one. I’ve made a lot of mistakes you should have never forgiven me for. You’ve made a lot of mistakes that, truthfully, I don’t really understand why I forgave you for. But this…This is bigger than anything else you’ve ever done, and it might—it might take me awhile. Forgiving you.”

I sighed, nodding my head softly as I buried my face in her auburn hair, inhaling her wonderfully delicious scent of vanilla and cinnamon, before placing a couple of chaste kisses along her neck, sighing in comfort as she curled into me.

I knew this was risky—dangerous, even. She was p***ed at me. I was, inevitably, making the initial heartbreak even worse. But I needed her. I needed to be near her. I needed to see her; smell her—I needed her. Even if, by comforting herself, and me, by falling asleep next to her, I was only breaking my heart when she was already gone in the morning; not needing me like I needed her right now.

I dozed off now that her arms were wrapped tightly around my chest, her breathing even and shallow against my hot skin; my head against hers, arms and elbows and legs a tangled mass of limbs between us.

I was right—waking up without her, even knowing that I had gotten the pleasure of holding her throughout my dreams last night, hurt more than anything I could have ever imagined.
I had to fix this. I didn’t know what I was going to do; I didn’t know what I was going to say as my sincere, heartfelt apology, but I was going to fix this. I had to fix this.
I made a quick call to her favorite flower place as soon as I’d gotten dressed for my work day, on the way to the nearest Starbucks—for her, not for me. I didn’t deserve any luxuries.
I dropped off the flowers; three dozen roses, and one special, beautiful golden rose, and her venti Iced Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha with the receptionist at her work, receiving a sympathetic, yet disapproved look—thanks receptionist. Because I needed someone else to tell me that I’d royally screwed up.
Yeah. Definitely.
I was distracted at work, planning most of the day, pretending to work as a boss or someone higher up (Trust me. There wasn’t anyone much higher up than the position that I currently held; so mainly they were just “friends” that I felt liked needed to know that yeah, I did do SOMETHING in this huge, glass office of mine)walked by, quickly going back to my conversation with some snappy, cranky nineteen year old receptionist at her favorite restaurant, or desert place, who was just working off her college loans and didn’t feel like dealing with irritated men. Trust me. I honestly didn’t feel like dealing with you, either.
Finally, 6 PM rolled around, and I sent out a mass text to get everything ready, sending one to her to let her know I was picking her up from work and one of her work friends was driving her car to our place so she wouldn’t have to worry about it, waving to all my coworkers as I hurried out of the building.
I smiled as I pulled into the garage of our place, sending her a hesitant glance as I turned off the engine of my new, sleek, black Mercedes. She hadn’t said a word the entire car ride, and I wondered if I had gone too far—made it too extravagant; or if I hadn’t gone the extra mile; hadn’t surprised her, hadn’t gotten her apology.
I wondered if she loved it all: Loved the private room at her favorite restaurant, another bouquet of her favorite roses; desert at her favorite, though cheap, bakery; the beautiful Tiffany & Co bracelet I had ordered for her anniversary present months ago. Her favorite movie at her favorite drive-thru; the adorable Husky puppy in the back seat she had always wanted and I had finally given into buying for her; just this afternoon.
Today had taken a lot of planning; and if she didn’t appreciate this, well maybe…Maybe, as her silence continued to stretch on and on, last longer and longer, maybe she had been right. Maybe I honestly couldn’t earn her apology; her forgiveness, for a long, long time—just like she said.
I wanted to prove her wrong, though. I wanted her to know that I really did love her; but I wasn’t perfect. Sometimes, I forgot. Sometimes, I needed the reminder that the girl waiting at home for me wasn’t always going to be that—if I screwed up too many times; if things got so bad, she wouldn’t always be the girl waiting at home for me with a wonderful, home cooked meal. She’d be the girl living on her own, eating her own amazing meal; no longer attached to the boy who could never give her the attention he knew she had deserved all along.
She grinned, stopping my incredibly worried thoughts as she softly spoke, “This…This entire night has been amazing. Thank you so much. I mean, yeah, it was a little overboard, but that’s you. That’s just what you do. I forgive you. And I love the puppy,” She practically squealed, careful as she reached to the back seat, lifting the puppy and plopping her back in her lap, patting her fur softly.
I rolled my eyes, but grinned, figuring she would become completely infatuated with the little thing; big, dark, mysterious blue eyes and all. Figures.
She finally seemed to realize that I was, in fact, still there, hesitating before leaning forward and placing a couple of quick kisses to my forehead; my cheeks, my lips.
“And yeah, I guess I love you, too.” I laughed, smiling as she buried her face in my chest.
“Well I love YOU, so you better love me, too. And I promise I won’t forget our next anniversary, either.”