Chapter 6
No assumption that she would immediately give him what he wanted.
“I'm sorry to come without calling.”
Claire glanced at the receptionist.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes.”
She considered refusing.
Then nodded toward a small conference room.
“Five minutes.”
They sat across from each other.
For once, Adrian didn't begin with an explanation.
He simply said, “I'm sorry.”
Claire remained still.
“I know I've said those words before,” he continued. “But I don't think I ever understood what I was apologizing for.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I thought the wedding was the problem. I thought if I chose another date, eventually everything would be fine.”
Claire said nothing.
“But it wasn't the wedding.”
His voice grew rough.
“It was every time you needed me and I made you feel guilty for asking. Every promise I broke because I assumed you'd understand. Every time I decided my work mattered more and expected you to celebrate my ambition anyway.”
Claire felt tears press behind her eyes.
She hated that his understanding had arrived so late.
Adrian swallowed.
“I've been seeing someone.”
Her stomach tightened.
Then he clarified.
“A therapist.”
She almost smiled.
“That's good.”
“It should have happened years ago.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “It should have.”
He reached into his coat.
For one terrible second, Claire thought he was going to produce the ring.
Instead, he placed a small envelope on the table.
Inside were photographs.
Their first camping trip.
Their ridiculous Christmas sweaters.
A picture of Claire laughing with flour on her face after a baking disaster.
“I found these while cleaning the house,” he explained. “I thought you might want them.”
Claire touched one photograph.
“We were happy then.”
Adrian nodded.
“We were.”
She looked up.
“But we weren't happy at the end.”
“I know.”
A long silence followed.
Then Adrian asked the question she had known was coming.
“Is there any chance for us?”
Claire closed the envelope.
There was a time when she would have given anything to hear him ask that.
But now she understood something.
A sincere apology could be meaningful without creating an obligation to return.
“Adrian,” she said gently, “I forgive you.”
His eyes filled with hope.
She continued before he could speak.
“But I'm not coming back.”
The hope faded.
“Because of Nathan?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Because I finally know who I am without you.”