The Gathered Fragments of Us (Fragments of Love #1)

Chapter 1 The Purse

~Felicity~

The Dior bag gleamed under the kitchen lights like a beacon of everything wrong with my marriage.

I stood frozen in the doorway. The grocery bags were cutting into my fingers as I watched my stepdaughter, Macy, unconsciously trace her fingers over the embossed leather.

It was the exact shade of powder beige I'd sent him in the screenshot. The precise gold hardware I'd included and then texted to Caden weeks ago with the message:

Me: This is what I want for my birthday.

Me: Please don't send Lauren to get something for me this year. I just want this.

Me: Nothing else... Just this.

"That's a beautiful purse, Macy," I said, forcing my voice to remain calm and steady.

Caden's head snapped up from the schoolwork in front of them. His blue eyes widened with what was clearly panic. His voice cracked a bit as he said, "Oh, hey babe. Didn't hear you come in." His voice sounded gravelly, and his gaze darted between me and the purse. "We were just—"

"Look, Felicity! I found it today!" Macy chirped, innocently and excitedly holding the bag up for me to see. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Dad said it was for the first day of school next month. You guys are the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

Before she could hurry to me and 'thank me' for something I had no hand in—because it was my birthday gift, not her first day of school gift— the grocery bags slipped from my numb fingers.

"Shit." Caden jumped up as the bags hit the ground and a jar of my favorite tomato basil sauce shattered across our kitchen floor. "Felicity, are you okay?"

No, I'm clearly not okay. I thought them, but the words wouldn't come out—stuck in my throat instead. I stood there and stared at the mess the sauce had made.

My birthday was in one week. The purse--my fucking purse, the one thing I'd specifically asked for—was now in the hands of an eleven-year-old for the first day of school.

I coughed, unable to speak. Silently, I grabbed paper towels from the counter, tossing towels on the floor to contain the sauce before it spread any further.

My eyes were on the ground when I said, "Macy, honey, why don't you take your homework upstairs?"

"But we're not done—"

"Now, please." I snapped out. The sharp edge in my voice made both their heads shoot up from where they'd been watching me clean the sauce.

I sighed. My shoulders drooping, and I softened my voice. I looked up and gave Macy a small smile that should have shouted to my husband how much my heart was breaking. "You can finish after dinner. I just need to talk to your dad for a minute."

Macy gathered her things, clutching the designer purse like a security blanket. "Okay. Are you okay, Felicity? Is something wrong?" She looked back and forth between me and Caden, her head volleying.

"Of course not, sweetheart." The lie burned my throat. "Head on upstairs. We'll call you for dinner when it's ready."

Satisfied, she bounced out, the stupidly expensive bag swinging from her thin shoulder. A bag I had no doubt would be battered within a week by an eleven-year-old's carelessness. Not her fault though. She had no idea what Dior even meant. Nope—this was all Caden's fault.

"Felicity—" Caden started.

I shushed him and, once she was out of hearing range, I spat out, "Don't." I went back to cleaning the sauce up. "Just... don't."

"Let me explain," he said. I looked up at him in disbelief, but he couldn’t help himself.

"I'd hidden it in the back of her closet. Since she was only going to be here for the weekend, I never thought she would see it." Yup. Like I thought—all Caden's fault.

I said nothing, yet he just kept talking.

"She found it when she was looking for her old ballet shoes.

" His voice was shaking a bit. "She fell in love with it, kept going on about how sophisticated it made her feel, how the other girls would think she was so grown up.

.." He kneeled beside me, reaching for the paper towels. "What was I supposed to say?"

"How about 'That's Felicity's birthday present'?" I jerked away from his touch. "How about 'No, sweetheart, that belongs to Felicity? How about literally anything other than giving away the one fucking gift I have actually asked you for—in years!?"

His face went through a series of expressions—guilt, frustration, then I saw that defensive set of his jaw take hold, and I knew he wasn't going to listen anymore. He started putting the remaining groceries on the counter and said, "It's just a purse, Felicity. I'll go get you another one."

"Just a purse?" I stood slowly; sauce-stained paper towels clenched in my fists. "If it were just a purse, then why didn't you just tell her no?"

"You didn't see her face. She was so happy—"

"So, what then ... " The words exploded out of me, what felt like thousands of swallowed frustrations finally breaking free. "So, her happiness—God! When did my happiness stop mattering? When did I—"

"That's not fair—"

"Isn't it? Three anniversaries!" I threw the towels into the trash and slammed the top shut. " My last birthday! You forget so many of the milestones in our lives—the things that are so important to me."

Caden took a step toward me, and I stepped back.

"Do you get that for years you've sent Lauren to pick out my gifts because you can't be bothered? It's always great getting things from my husband that are sent care of his assistant." Sarcasm burned through my words, and I turned away from him.

Facing the sink, I started washing the vegetables for dinner.

"The one time--the ONE time--I ask for something specific, you give it to your daughter because she looked happy when she found it?

" Fed up, I turned the water off and started pulling things from the bags he'd put on the counter, simultaneously grabbing items from the fridge for dinner.

"She's just a child—"

I looked up. "That's right. And children should have boundaries, not just get whatever they want! They should have parents who teach them the difference between yes and no. Though, that's not really fair here since you didn't even say no—not Macy's fault on this. It's completely yours."

I spun to face him. "Why couldn't you say no? You're too conflict-avoidant to set boundaries with Jessica, afraid to rock the boat and have to deal with things that could—God forbid—take you away from your work or get messy."

"It's because of Macy. I have to think of her when—"

"Yes! And you should always think of her. All I ask is to be remembered too! I'm an afterthought. I'm the person whose gifts you have your assistant purchase. Why do I have to fight to be cared about?" I uncontrollably hiccuped at that last. Damn it. Hold it together, Felicity.

He stood slowly, and I watched his CEO face slide into place--the one he uses for difficult meetings or recalcitrant employees. "You're being dramatic, Felicity. I'll buy you another purse. A better one."

I walked to the other side of the kitchen, putting the island between us.

After effectively stowing and pulling out the groceries over and over and fussing around, I realized I'd created a mess in the kitchen—a bit like my marriage, I guess.

I looked at him and saw he was still standing in the same spot.

"I can't believe you think this is just about the purse?

" I scoffed. "It's about you just not caring.

You don't seem to care that you gave away something that was meant especially for me—a milestone gift, if you will.

You don't even—you know what? You've never even bothered to figure out what I actually wanted.

Instead, I had to tell you." I'm so aggravated that I can't even keep my thoughts focused.

I was back to moving things around aimlessly—slammed the cabinet door and was moving around the kitchen, unable to stop myself at this point.

"Then finally I found something that I really wanted.

I mean… God! I sent you the details. Didn't that tell you how much it would mean to me?

And you thought so little of it. Of me. That you gave it away. "

I stopped moving, faced my husband, and felt my head and shoulders just slump. "Caden, don't you understand that it's about being so low on your priority list that a child's whim matters more than your wife's birthday?"

"I told you, she found it and—"

"You don't get it. Or you don't care to get it. Husbands protect their wives' gifts. But you'd rather I be disappointed than have to deal with Macy being sad for a couple of minutes."

"That's not what this is—"

"It is. That's exactly what it is." I was defeated. "Why is it okay that I have to sacrifice? That I have to walk into my own home and see your daughter with my gift. And you didn't even think about how I'd feel. You didn't even think to ask her to put it away until she went home."

His silence was answer enough. He hadn't even considered it.

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore.

I could see my reflection in the kitchen window.

I looked haggard. My hair askew. Makeup smudged and running from my tears.

My slacks from work were splattered with sauce.

When had I become this woman? The one who accepted crumbs while everyone else got the whole cake?

"I'll get the purse back," he said finally. "I'll tell Macy I made a mistake."

"Don't bother." I looked at him. Really looked at my husband.

"You want to traumatize her by taking back a gift from her daddy?

You want to make her think it's somehow my issue that she can't have the gift?

Better yet, you want to give me something that you gave someone else? What could possibly be worse now?"

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. You can't right this boat, Caden.

All I wanted was for you to think of me first. Just this once.

" I reached into the junk drawer, grabbed a handful of Reese's peanut butter cups, filled my water bottle up, and headed for the stairs, exhaustion settling into my bones.

Fuck dinner. Why should I cook tonight after all of this?

Chocolate will comfort me tonight—he sure as shit won't be.

"Where are you going?"

"Guest room."

"Felicity, come on. You're overreacting—"

I stopped on the third step, looking back at him standing in our mess of a kitchen.

"You know what? That's the problem. You think my feelings are an overreaction," I sighed.

"Honestly, I think I've run out of words at this point, Caden.

I honestly don't know how else to help you understand.

And I can't figure out why I have to try so hard.

I can't for the life of me figure out how—you know what?

In the last fifteen minutes of us arguing, you haven't even apologized. Not even once."

"I'm sorry, Felicity."

"Don't bother. Too little, too late. Loses its effect if I have to bring it to your attention."

I went to turn away and paused. I looked at my husband. Really looked at him. In my staring, he started to shift his feet, uncomfortably fidgeting. "Do me a favor, Caden. My birthday is in just about a week. Tell me how old I'll be."

The silence stretched between us. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Pathetic. Finally, he replied, "Of course I know how old you'll be. It's insulting you'd even ask."

"Forty," I said with a sigh. "I'll be forty. Can you make sure you tell Lauren it's a milestone birthday?" With as much sarcasm as I could muster up, I continued, "That way, when she goes out to panic-buy whatever she has to pick for my birthday this year, she'll get me something just super great."

I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The crinkle of wrappers sounding with every step. I heard him call my name. But I didn't turn back. There was nothing else to say tonight.

Sitting on the guest bed, I looked around the room. Cold and impersonal. Finally, I let the tears fall. It wasn't about the purse. It had never been about the purse. It was about being invisible in my own marriage.