Page 60 of Kiss From A Rose

I knew the reason for her surprise. I never did this at home. My equation had been simple; I made the money, and she kept the house. In truth, she could've hired a lot of help, but she didn't. We had a housekeeper who cleaned and did the laundry, but Rose did everything else. She cooked and, after dinner,quietly andalonecleaned up while the kids and I watched TV or hung out together.

I had been a fool, but I didn't have to continue being that. Talking to Dr. Ogle helped me clear my head and look back at our lives as honestly and objectively as I possibly could. Then I asked myself a question: how would I feel if Willow was treated by her husband the way I treated Rose? The answer didn't put me in a good light.

"Yeah, babe. I can rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher."

She blinked in surprise and then arched an eyebrow. "You know how?" she asked sarcastically.

I grinned. It wasn't that Rose didn't get angry or snap at any of us; she did, but it was rare. However, being with her four weeks after she left me, fuck that still hurt like a mother; I was seeing a more assertive Rose. One who was focusing on herself because her husband had not put her first.

"I do, babe."

I'd made one promise to myself and that was to not lose my temper with her. I had done it on the phone call, and that hadn't helped me; instead, it had created a bigger divide between us and hurt her. I decided that I'd keep my voice down and remain patient, no matter what.

I owed this to Rose. She'd been my safe haven for twenty years; now, it was my turn to let her feel safe with me and say or do whatever she wanted or needed. I loved her desperately, and I now could see how much I hurt her—and that wounded me as well. Like a blind man who'd just found his sight, my eyes hurt because of the bright truth around me.

She let me load the dishwasher while she cleaned up the kitchen.

"I don't put knives or spatulas in there," she hurriedly told me when I picked up a knife to set it on a dishwasher tray.

"Why?"

"Knives get rusty, and the wooden spatulas flake," she explained.

"Okay," I said and followed her instructions.

She didn’t watch me like a hawk, but it was close—like she was waiting for me to slip up. I could see the confusion in her. We’d known each other for over twenty years; I knew my Rose, knew her moods—and yet I’d somehow missed how lonely I’d made her feel, how invisible, until she was counting Ambien pills in our bathroom.

Fuck! I didn't know what to do with all the anger I felt for myself. I didn't deserve a woman like Rose. I didn't deserve a second chance. But hell, I was finally breathing again because I could see her. I didn't think I could live without her—and I wanted, desperately, to show her how much she meant to me and how much I appreciated her.

After we were done in the kitchen—and I must say we worked well as a team—she asked me if I'd like another cup of coffee. Since that would mean I'd have more time with her, I accepted.

She served me coffee and then looked at her wristwatch. I was glad she didn't leave that behind, as she had all her jewelry, including her wedding ring. I was still wearing mine. I never took it off. I was proud to be married to Rose—but somewhere down the line, I'd allowed old resentments to fester, never analyzing them, and understanding that they weren't warranted any longer and, in fact, had never been.

The watch was an antique that I'd given her after Jude was born. I'd seen it and knew she'd love the ivory inlay and how delicate it was. She wore it all the time.

"Malou gets up late." She sat down across from me in the breakfast nook.

"She sleeps a lot?"

Rose nodded. "Well, she wakes up on and off throughout the night. She's dozing off, mostly. I've started sleeping with her, so I know when she's awake."

"You're a wonderful friend, Rose, and you have a very big heart."

But is it big enough to forgive your asshole husband?

"We take care of each other." She drank some tea. "Jude talked to me."

"I know. He told me. He's…grateful that you forgave him."What about me, Rose? Will you forgive me? Will you give me another chance to show you how good a husband I can be?

She shrugged. "He's my baby. There's nothing to forgive."

"Yes, babe, there is." I wasn't going to let her brush it under the carpet. We were going to start talking about how we treated one another in this family. We were going to start being honest about how we felt. "He treated you poorly. Not as badly as I did, but he was out of line. I should've said something, but I was too busy living in my own world to even fuckin' notice. And that's on me."

She looked at me as if I told her that I wanted to wear a tutu and take up ballet.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"Yes, you do. You left me, Rose. You did it for good reasons."

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