Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THEN
September 2022
TODAY IS THE TENTH anniversary of the attack on the Cain family. The past two years, she’d been able to look ahead to celebrating our wedding anniversary the week following, but this year that doesn’t seem to be as easy. I had planned on taking the day off work, spending the day with her, doing whatever she wanted—even if it meant spending the whole day in bed until we had to leave for the party. I wouldn’t be opposed. Honestly, it sounded pretty good. I can’t remember the last time we stayed in bed, cuddled together, making love, watching movies, and eating a bunch of junk. But she told me to go to work because she already had plans. She and Nina would be prepping for the celebration of life party Elizabeth had planned, and the best way for me to help her was by going to work.
I didn’t want to leave her this morning, but she had practically pushed me out the door and promised she’d call if they needed anything.
The party was nice. It was lavish, and everything was the best of the best, as expected when you have the name Villa attached to something. Throughout the night, guests swapped their favorite stories about Thomas and Ethel Cain, eliciting a laugh or a smile or a tear from whoever was listening. I loved it. I felt like I was really getting to know her parents in a way I hadn’t been able to before. Elizabeth has shared stories over the years but still held a lot about her parents close to her chest. Not that I blame her; I would probably do the same.
As the night wore on, I noticed the weight in her smile. The more she tried to hide it, the more noticeable it became. No one else seemed to notice, or they pretended not to, as they dragged her from one end of the room to the next, salivating at the chance for conversation. Finally, I stepped in and announced we had to be going because of an early morning tomorrow. Did we have an early morning? Well, she didn’t, but they didn’t need to know that. Besides, Nick and Nina had left about twenty minutes ago, so it wasn’t like Elizabeth was waiting around for her sister. Those two have always tried to sync their arrivals and departures to make sure they never have to worry about being without some kind of escape from the droning conversations that happen at things like this. When Elizabeth didn’t fight me, I knew I had made the right call.
Upon getting home, she disappeared into the bedroom without a word…That was about an hour ago.
Pouring a glass of wine, I pad my way into our bedroom and find her soaking in the oversized tub. Only a few bubbles remain, stationary on top of the shoulder-deep water. Her face is red, whether it’s actually from crying or from the heat of the water, I’m not sure, but the tear tracks down her cheeks aren’t hard to miss.
Elizabeth looks up at me when I set the glass down in the corner next to the book she had anticipated reading, but cracked open. Sitting on the floor next to the tub, I rest my arms on the edge and meet her glazed brown orbs.
“You okay?” I ask.
She takes a shaky breath, reaching for the wine glass and downing a heavy sip. Biting on the inside of her cheek, she says, “I went to see my brother earlier.”
I should’ve known, I just wish she had let me come along. This isn’t the first time she’s gone to see Nate; she’s tried multiple times over the years, but he never wanted to meet with her. Refused, actually. It’s been a while since her last attempt, though. The last time I can think of was a few months before the wedding.
“He uh…he talked to me.”
I can physically feel my eyes widen and my jaw fall to the floor. “What did he say?”
Elizabeth swirls the red wine in her glass, her eyes filling with more tears, one of them slipping down her cheek and falling into the water with a quiet plop . She sniffles.
“Sugar,” I say, wiping another tear that falls down her cheek. “What did he say?”
“I told him I forgive him.” She looks up to the ceiling, a tearful smile on her face.
That’s the reason she has continued to try to see him. She wanted Nate to know that despite it all, she still loved him and forgave him. Did I agree with it? No. Did I understand it? Certainly not. But I know that I’ll never be able to understand something I haven’t been through.
“And he told me he was sorry he didn’t finish the job.”
The words leave me stunned.
Sorry he didn’t finish the job .
Who the fuck says that? A psychopath, that’s who.
My heart aches for the woman in front of me. She covers her mouth when a sob escapes her lips, but more follow, and she’s no longer able to contain them. Without thinking, I just step into the tub and wrap myself around her. She has a death grip on my arms, holding on for dear life, and I pull her tighter against my chest as her sobs fill the space around us.