“Well, youwerewrong about how perfectly these treats go together,” she said, the gentle teasing helping break some of the tension that had wrapped itself around Tyler’s heart. “But you weren’t a jerk. You were hurting. We were both hurting. Or, okay, maybe we were both jerks, because sometimes people who are hurting get so wrapped up in that hurt that they forget to make room for other things. Like kindness or patience.”
“But what kind of man forgets kindness or patience when his wife is grieving?”
In a flash, he thought of Cadence’s devastated face when she told them about one of their most painful disappointments. Her cycle had been late enough that they’d started to hope that maybe this time they’d end up with the pregnancy they so desperately desired. Tyler had ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him not to get his hopes up. His hopes had gotten way, way up. Surely, this time they’d finally get lucky, right?
Except the odds still hadn’t been in their favor. He remembered coming home from work one day to find that Izzy had unexpectedly been picked up by Cadence’s parents. And Cadence had been on the couch, curled in on herself. She had a hot water bottle on her lower stomach, a sure sign that she was being plagued by cramps.
He saw that and knew that, once again, they hadn’t managed to get pregnant. There would be no bouncing baby nine months later. And that tiny, warm kernel of hope had just withered and died inside him. And he just felt…
Blank. Like something inside him had turned off to protect him from experiencing the pain.
He’d waited too long before turning that part of himself back on.
And, now that he thought about it, the hope hadn’tdied. He’d just… smothered it. The pain of the ups and downs of hoping and then being crushed by disappointment had been too much to bear. But by giving up, he’d abandoned his wife in her time of need, at least in an emotional sense. If he’d tried to protect himself from pain by not feeling it, he’d left her to feel it all alone.
It was no wonder, really, that she’d pulled back from him in return.
Cadence’s expression wasn’t judgmental though.
It was kind. And patient.
“You were grieving too,” she said. “My grief just came out, while yours turned in.”
Maybe. Part of him wanted to believe her kindness, wanted to trust, as he had for so long, that Cadence’s judgment was his due north.
Yet, he felt that perhaps she was being too kind to him. Maybe she was letting him off the hook too easily.
But maybe that was what she was talking about. Maybe being a little kinder to one another was the whole point.
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”
Cadence hopped up to sit on the edge of the desk so she could continue enjoying the treats he’s brought her, then nodded at the spot next to her, indicating he could take a seat too, if he wanted.
Tyler was not about to pass up a chance to get close to her, even if it was something as small as sitting innocently side by side on a table.
She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee before speaking again.
“We can’t take back what we did then,” she said. “I… I wish we could, but we can’t.”
He nodded.
“And I guess what I’m trying to work through,” she went on, slowly, carefully, as though she were thinking even as she spoke, “is how to accept that we can’t take it back without carrying all that pain forward.”
He nodded again. “I mean, I don’t have ‘the answer’ to that. There probably isn’t one ‘right’ answer.”
She chuckled dryly. “Probably not. Would be nice though.”
“Sure would,” he agreed, matching her tone. “But the upside, maybe, is that if there isn’tananswer… maybe there are a few answers?”
She took another contemplative sip. “Maybe,” she allowed.
“So what if…” He took a risk and reached out, grasping her free hand in his. His heart leapt when she didn’t pull away.“What if we just try? What if we plan to meet up and reallylistento one another, like really be intentional about it? What if we have one night of old-school bonding?”
“Old school?” she repeated, a smile in her voice. Tyler’s heart leapt again. It wasn’t ano, at least not an immediate one. “Like… we take a turn about the room? Attend a musicale at the biggest ball of the season?”
“Have you been reading one of those duke books for your club again?” he asked. She pointedly didn’t make eye contact and hummed a little tune. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he laughed. “No, I did not mean we should time travel to the 1800s. I thought more like going to dinner.”
She paused, her playful, teasing aspect vanishing into a cloud of uncertainty.
