My eyes prick as I hold her, brushing my fingers through her hair as she cries into my neck. I kiss her temple, her jaw, anywhere I can reach until her sobs turn to shuddering breaths.
When she lifts her head, I wipe her cheeks with my thumbs, wishing for the millionth time over the past seven years that I’d been there to wipe her cheeks that night when she endured everything all on her own.
“When I toldVanity FairI had no reason to slow down, I hadn’t found my way back to you again.” I swallow past the barbed wire inside my throat. “I was still working on myself, trying to find the best version of myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Soon after you left, I started going to therapy to work through some of my trauma from my childhood, like the unsafe environment I was in before I went into the foster system and the abandonment I felt after my mom was taken away. I had significant things I needed to address before I could heal from them. Apart from therapy, I also raised awareness and volunteered at various foster organizations and kept up with my taekwondo training.”
Her eyes bounce between mine in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
“And then one day I was watching a Bay Area Blazers game on TV. Their star pitcher had made this incredible comeback from a potentially career-ending injury, but that’s not what caught my eye. It was Sarina in the stands, fighting to get to him. The camera panned to her making a scene, trying to get to Troy. And when he finally saw her, he ran over and pulled her into a kiss.”
“Oh, my God. Yeah.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “It was when she realized how much she loved him and couldn’t wait to tell him.” Her smile fades, confusion clouding her features. “But what does that have to do with you being here?”
“That’s when I realized I had a path back to you.” I lean my forehead against hers. “I pitched a comeback story of a baseball star to my producer, told him I needed to interview Troy for research. But really, I was working toward getting the biggest role of my life, the role I’d lost.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Being your husband.”
Her eyes shimmer with fresh tears. “Patton . . .”
“I have worked for seven years to be with you again, Little Borealis. And I’ll work seventy more if I have to. All those projects and films you’ve read about? I pulled out of them months ago.”
“But you’ve worked hard for your career, and I’d never want you to abandon your dreams. My problem wasn’t that you loved your job; it was that I felt left behind. I spent more nights alone than with you. We’d go weeks without having a meaningful conversation while you were on set, and even when you were home, our conversations were constantly interrupted with work calls. I just felt like we’d lost all balance, like I always came second.”
The pain in her voice cuts through me like a thousand razor blades, and I close my eyes, letting the weight of my failures slam against my heart. “Fuck, that was my fault, Neesh. All my fault.”
When I open my eyes, I make sure she can see the sincerity inside them, the regret I’ve carried for so long. “I just kept chasing the next high, thinking ‘one more movie,’ and then I’d take a break. ‘One more big production,’ and then I’d finally be home with my wife. But the more I took on, the more opportunities came my way that I felt like I couldn’t refuse. I should have, though. Because in the end, I lost the most important thing in my life.” My voice breaks. “I lost you . . . and I won’t do that again.”
“But what about your career? Your fans? You love what you do.”
“I’ll continue to make films, maybe get into producing. But I’ll never take on so many projects again.” I lay my hand on her stomach. “Not when I have so much more to fill my heart.”
“What if we’re not enough?” she whispers. “I want you to feel fulfilled, too.”
“You’re more than enough, baby. You always have been. I was just too blind to see it. I could give every minute of everyday to this industry, and it would still demand more.” I shake my head. “What I realized was I needed to create boundaries, a work-life balance. I never want to give it so much again, certainly not at the cost of my happiness.”
“But—”
“None of the fame, no premier mattered without you by my side. No Oscar filled the hole you left. The spotlight was dark and lonely. So when I realized you really weren’t coming back, I decided to work on myself to become the man you wished for.”
“What do you mean?” She leans back slightly, studying my face.
“I found your list.”
“What list? I didn’t leave you a list. Just a letter.”
A small smile plays on my lips. “I’ll give you a clue. It was aptly titled ‘Ten Things I Wish About You’.”
A sharp gasp leaves her lips as recognition dawns. “You found that?”
I shift, tugging my wallet out of my pocket and taking out the crumpled paper with words I have memorized by heart. “I did.”
twenty-two
patton
Ten Things I Wish About You
Seven Years Ago
