Page 64 of The Breaking Point

She steps into my path quickly, raising both hands with a teasing grin. “Ah-ah, no seeing the bride before the ceremony.”

I try to smile, but something must show on my face, in my voice. “I need to talk to her.”

Her smile falters, expression shifting like clouds rolling over the sun. “Is everything okay?”

I swallow, but the words feel like glass in my throat. “I need to talk to her,” I repeat, quieter this time.

She says, “I’ll check on the caterers,” and walks off.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door.

Kate is sitting on a stool in front of a brightly lit mirror. Some woman is brushing something over her face. She sees me in the mirror, sees the look on my face, and jumps up.

“What’s wrong?”

I ask the makeup lady for a minute. She nods and quietly slips out.

I step up to Kate. God, she looks beautiful. She’s in a robe, dark hair loose around her shoulders, a black garment bag hanging by the closet, her dress, I’m guessing. My chest tightens.

“I love you,” I say.

She looks scared, already bracing for something. Before I can get another word out, the door bursts open and Jack and Alex come tumbling in, giggling, followed by her mom.

Alex tugs at Kate’s robe. “Mommy, Jack is mean.”

I stand there, watching this beautiful woman crouch down to listen patiently to our youngest. And I’m struck, this is what Irisked. This is what I could’ve broken. Telling her won’t fix it. It’ll only shatter this family.

Kate stands up and looks at me, brows drawn tight. I gently take her arm.

“I need to talk to Mommy,” I tell the boys.

They groan but go back out with their grandmother. I pull Kate into the bathroom and shut the door behind us.

“We don’t have to-” she begins, but I cut her off with a kiss. My hands on her face, my head leaning against hers.

“I know I’ve been a jackass,” I whisper. “But I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up for it. I love you, Kate. I love our family. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

Flashback over ~ Dr Davis’s office.

“That was it, Doc. I married her. And I did everything I could to shove it down, to convince myself that if I just loved her enough, hard enough, it’d fix it. That what I did wouldn’t be the thing that defined us. I honestly thought I was doing alright. We had good days. We laughed, raised our boys right, built a life. I had no idea what I thought was good was really the bare minimum. The truth coming out, that was just the breaking point. Turns out I've been failing for a while.”

The room is quiet for a second, neither of us speaking.

Doc finally breaks it after a while, “Failing by whose standards, Aiden?”

It’s not a challenge. It’s like he wants me to hear the question more than answer it.

“Hers? Yours?” he asks. “Or maybe the ones you were handed and never thought to question?”

I stare at the floor. There is something about the way he says it, like he isn’t just talking about my marriage, he’s talking about everything.

“You say you did everything you could,” he goes on, “but what did that really look like? Did you ever ask her what she needed? Or did you just assume that love, in the way you knew how to give it, would be enough?”

I don’t answer. Mostly because I don’t know. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to know.

“Sometimes,” he says, leaning back just a little, “we think we’re holding things together. But really… we’re just holding our breath. From what you’ve told me; Kate is an independent woman. She doesn’t need your money or your guidance. She just needs you.”

And then, like it’s nothing, like it’s not the question that could crack me wide open, he asks, “Have you ever considered that you are enough?”

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