Chapter 22 Got Your Favorites
~Felicity~
Twenty-three. That's how many minutes it took before I heard the garage door opening—who was counting though?
I'd been pacing between the kitchen and den, touching the locket clasped at my neck over and over.
Repeatedly forcing myself to stop touching it—then touching it again.
The weight of it felt strange and comforting at once—like wearing someone else's centuries-old heirloom that somehow felt made for me.
The door from the garage opened. Caden's keys hit the hall table with what felt like more force than necessary. I heard his footsteps pause in the kitchen—I could swear he was out of breath.
"Felicity?" His voice carried that same nervous energy from the phone call.
"Right here," I said as I rounded the corner.
I'd jumped up from the couch, once I heard him come in.
I'd thought the couch would help me look casual, but who was I kidding?
My heart was hammering against my ribs and wait—was I the one who was out of breath?
I forced myself to calm down. In for five, out for five.
We stood there, facing each other—him in his work clothes, me in a t-shirt and leggings.
He looked disheveled in a way that was totally unfamiliar—tie loosened, hair mussed, eyes bright.
He was holding a pizza box from Florina's.
He must have swung by on his way home. It's been our favorite pizza place since even before we got married.
The sight of that box made something flutter in my chest.
"You got the pizza," I said, pointlessly stating the obvious because I didn't know what else to say.
“I stopped on the way. Got your favorite—extra basil, pepperoni, ricotta, and eggplant,” he said, setting the box on the coffee table with deliberate care.And yes, it smelled incredible.
“I may have grabbed caramel corn too—it’s in the car. I wanted to make sure you were here first.”
His vulnerability hit me square in the chest. This man was always so sure of himself, and now he looked afraid I’d vanish before the box cooled.
“I know this isn’t an apology,” he said, eyes steady. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I forgot your age. I gave away your birthday gift. No excuses. I made you feel invisible, and that’s on me. I have a lot to make up for.”
He exhaled, shoulders dropping, eyes wet. “Don’t leave me, Liss. I don’t deserve you, but I want to do the work. Please let me try.”
“I’m here,” I said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief washed over his face so completely that I had to look away for a moment. When I looked back, he was staring at the locket around my neck, his expression unreadable.
"It's perfect on you," he said, his voice rough. "Even more beautiful than I imagined."
I touched it instinctively. "Caden, this is—I don't even have words. The locket, the donation, the volunteer work. How long have you been planning all of this?"
He leaned against the side of the kitchen table, leaving space between us but angling his body toward mine.
"God, I wish I could say months? But truth?
When you left, I sat down and talked to Macy—told her about the purse.
I talked to her about what happened. She was so upset that she hadn't even thought of you when she found the purse though—in her defense, it was all my fault …
I am the one who hid it inside her closet.
" He rubbed his hands down his face and mumbled, "such a stupid mistake. "
He stood up straight and continued, "Macy and I talked.
We knew you didn't want the purse back; you'd said as much—and I couldn't blame you!
I knew it would always come with the awful memories of what happened.
So we talked. She was the one who came up with the idea of donating it for a good cause.
Then I thought of the necklace. And we both decided on the inscription—it was her idea for the picture though. " He said that last bit with a smile.
"It was?"
"Yes—and I realized something."
I felt tears prick at my eyes again. "What was that?"
"That it was never about the purse. It was about you feeling invisible. About you feeling like your feelings didn't matter to me." His voice cracked slightly.
The space between us felt like an ocean. I wanted to reach for him, but something held me back—maybe I was afraid to break whatever fragile thing we'd just started to repair.
"So, we started researching organizations," he continued. "Macy found Project Place. Did you know they specifically help women rebuild their careers after domestic violence?"
My breath caught. "She found Project Place?"
"Yes. She was looking through different websites, and when she read about Project Place, she got so excited.
She said it was perfect because you'd told her once about how important it was to help women who needed a fresh start.
" He paused, studying my face. "She somehow knew you'd love it.
She didn't seem to know details, but I assumed you were talking about Maliyah. "
I touched the locket, my throat tight. "Yes. I had mentioned it, but a long time ago. I guess she held onto it." I had to think back—It must have been a year ago. I'd been writing a check to a charity, and she'd asked me about it, having not seen a check before—Gen Z is Venmo, after all.
I'd explained and told her much I admired women who had the courage to start over. I remember thinking of my sister, Maliyah—how far she’d come.
"You're right, though, I didn't mention details—I'd never do that. Macy's just a kid. Plus, it’s Maliyah’s story, and I don't share the details without her permission." Damn it I forgot I told my sister I'd call her this week.
He nodded. "I figured as much. I know you wouldn't have told her about those details. It's a lot, too much really for someone her age."
He went on. "There's more, though," Caden said gently.
"When we contacted Project Place about the donation, we learned about their volunteer program.
Macy suggested we shouldn't just give something up for what we did, we should also give our time.
" A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"She said she learned in school about 'philanthropy,' and how giving your time can sometimes be as important as giving money.
I was crying again. My sister—what she went through—no one could know how deep this landed.
He continued on, "Macy's not here to tell you herself, but she planned something else too. While we volunteer, she made a little folder with a 'menu' of experiences you could choose from. She wanted you to have options—something just for you."
I sat in silence, absorbing it all. That they chose Project Place felt bigger than coincidence. It felt like the universe trying to tell me something.
"And the locket?"
"That was me." He shifted closer, just slightly. "I wanted you to have something that reminded you every day that you're part of our family. That you're seen. That you're loved." He paused. "The photo was Macy's suggestion though—she said it was a happy memory and could help you."
I smiled through tears. "I remember that Christmas. I forced you both to take that picture. You were surprisingly compliant."
"She thinks we look genuinely happy in it."
"We were."
"I can't believe you two planned all of this together."
"We did. And Felicity—" He turned fully toward me now, his eyes intense.
"I need you to know something. This isn't guilt.
This isn't me trying to buy my way out of the mess I made.
It's me trying to show you how special you are.
That I was wrong. That I should have been giving you special things all along, showing you how essential you are. "
I touched the locket at my throat again, feeling the weight of it against my skin. "Can I tell you something? About the purse versus this?"
He nodded, waiting.
"The purse—" I paused, trying to find the right words. "It was beautiful. It was something I'd wanted. But it was just a thing, Caden."
I paused to gather myself. "You bought it because I told you exactly what to get. But that's all you did—buy it. You checked a box and moved on. And honestly, after last year's Saks gift card? I was bracing for worse."
His flinched slightly and his face fell, but he didn't look away.
"I know I never said anything. I should have. But part of me wanted to see if you'd notice the disappointment on your own. You didn’t. And that kind of broke my heart."
"Felicity—"
"I’m not done," I said, holding up a hand. "I need to say this."
"This—" I lifted the locket slightly, feeling its weight.
"The locket isn't about money. It’s the kind of gift that says, ‘I know you.’ Every detail—from the design to the photo, to the engraving—it says you thought about me.
You thought about the things that make me feel loved and you made it into something I will wear forever. "
Tears were rolling down my face, but I pushed through.
"The purse said, 'I bought you something you wanted.
' This locket says, 'I see you.' The donation and volunteering say you see what I value.
The idea that Macy has a menu of things for me to look at also tells me that she is thoughtful and wants me to know that I matter. "
Caden's eyes had filled with tears too. "God, Felicity, I'm so sorry it took me so long to understand that."
"That's what I was trying to tell you that night when I was so upset. I told you then—it was never about the purse alone. It was about feeling like a transaction instead of like someone you love. Like you were purchasing my happiness instead of actually caring about it."