Page 37 of Poetry By Dead Men
You're my world and my obsession,
My sun, bright for all to see.
So once again, my love, I'm sorry.
Will you please forgive me?
—A poem by Harrison Rouchester, asking forgiveness after a fight with Beth Winters
There’s a cup of coffee on my nightstand the next morning when I get out of the shower—a latte with lavender from the café down the street—along with a little poem printed out on stark white paper. Harrison was gone when I woke up, out running like he does every morning, I’d assumed, but he must be feeling guilty if he skipped his workout to write out an apology and get me mydumbdrink.
I ignore it, not wanting to give him credit for doing what is honestly the bare minimum after how he behaved last night.
I spent a few hours packing after getting off the phone with Bobby, so there’s not much to grab other than my phone charger andtoothbrush.
I throw them in and zip up my bag, then pause. Walking to my jewelry chest, I slide off the silver bracelet with Harrison’s initials and drop it inside next to the gold infinity bracelet that’s remained unworn since the night of our engagement party. My fingers trail along the delicate links, and my heart aches, but I push it to the side.
I feel naked with my wrist bare, but it’s far too easy to lose things on a moving tour bus, and I’m not risking either bracelet getting lost.
My pulse kicks up in rhythm as I open the false bottom of the chest and thumb through my half-finished manuscript. The one I’d been writing about mine and Bobby’s love story until it exploded. Before I can overthink it, I grab the stack of papers and shove them into the bottom of my bag. I don’t know why I do it, but for some reason Ihaveto, and even though my luggage feels twenty pounds heavier with the pages inside, I can’t convince myself to take them out.
I carry everything downstairs, dressed casually for a day on the road—jeans and a black t-shirt, my hair up in a messy ponytail with gold music note earrings. I’m not trying to look good for Bobby, but I feel pretty this morning, and it gives me the confidence I need to face Harrison.
He hangs up the phone as I enter the kitchen. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning in and kissing my cheek. I flinch at the sudden movement, and Harrison pulls back, his face crumbling.
“Hey.” He wraps his arms around my waist, but I don’t melt into them like I normally would. “I’m really sorry about last night. I was out of line. You know I love you, right?”
He leans his head on top of mine.
“I know,” I say, sighing. “But that anger—”
“I know, and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for it. And I swear to you, it won’t happen again. Work has been stressful, and I don’t think I’ve been handling it well. I…” His voice drops, shame creeping into his normally confident tone. “I lost a big account a few weeks ago, and I’ve been killing myself trying to make up for it. I let everything going on at the office get the best of me, but I booked a session with Phil for later this week.”
I relax, the weight of what happened last night infinitely lighter as he tells me about going for a check in with his therapist. Not only that, but he’s letting me in—admitting he’s having a tough time at work—which heneverdoes.
“I’m really, really sorry. Can you forgive me?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.
I turn in his arms, pressing my cheek against his chest and nodding. “Thank you. I’m sorry work’s been hard.”
“It’s okay, especially now that I’m bringing Bobby in. Thank you again for doing this for me.” He squeezes my arms, then pulls back to grab something from the counter.
“I got this for you. As a thank you,” he says, handing me a large flat box with a pink ribbon.
“You didn’t need to get me anything,” I say, undoing the bow. When I open the box, there’s a shiny new laptop inside, infinitely fancier than the one in my bag.
“I remembered you saying yours was running slow.”
I pull the computer out and turn it on. "This is amazing. How in the world did you get it so fast?"
“Dad’s social media manager pulled a few strings, and my secretary picked it up this morning. It’s all set up for you to use. Everything you could possibly need is on there, ready to go,” he says, nodding at the screen.
“Thank you,” I say, closing the computer and reaching up on tiptoes to give him a kiss.
“Are you ready? Is there anything you need help with?”Harrison asks, tucking my flyways behind my ears.
I shake my head, once again forcing myself to not pull them back out. “All packed. But do you want to drop me off on your way to work?” I ask.
“Oh, honey, I’d love to.” He takes a bite of his bagel. “I absolutely would, but I have a meeting this morning over breakfast, and I won’t be going anywhere near the office. How about you take my car? I can call a cab for myself.”
