Chapter 2 (Caden)

                                        

                                              
I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen in my home office but not even seeing the words. I'd been down here for hours. It was almost three in the morning when I had given up on sleep and came back downstairs.
At that point, I'd been hoping work would be a distraction. But it wasn't. Not tonight.
Forty. She was turning forty.
Shit.
I stood there like an idiot, unable to answer the simplest question about my wife. I couldn't even remember her age. Tried to do the math—useless.
My wife. The woman I love. The woman I swore to cherish.
FUCK. Forty is a big fucking deal. And I forgot.
Meanwhile, I've got Macy's entire schedule memorized for the next month. I can recite my work calendar like scripture. I can close deals in my sleep, catch every detail, read the room with my eyes closed.
And yet—my wife's milestone birthday completely slipped my mind.
How? When did I become this man? I knew I wasn't exactly detail-oriented in our marriage, but how had it gotten this bad?
My phone lit up.
Jessica: Caden! The bag you got Macy is amazing. She won't stop talking about it! She's planning her whole first day outfit around it.
I stared at the screen, nausea rolling through me.
The Dior bag had been perfect—for once, I'd actually gotten it right. I'd saved the screenshots Felicity had sent. Gone to the boutique myself. Spent an hour making sure it matched the one she wanted. The saleswoman had smiled like I was some kind of hero. "Someone's very lucky," she smiled and said in that sing-song way while carefully wrapping it up.
She told me once she didn't want perfect. Just effort. I'd forgotten that. This time when I got her gift, I felt proud. No last-minute panic. No assistant. Just me, getting it right.
Then Macy found it.
"Daddy, what's this?"
She was digging through the back of her closet, looking for her old ballet shoes.
"Oh my God, I love it!" she said, already unwrapping it.
"That's—" I'd started to say it was Felicity's.
"Is this for Mom? It's amazing." Her face fell. "She always gets nice things from people," she said with a shrug. 
That line. She always gets the nice things. Why would she think I would still get a nice thing for her mom? Had I done that since my divorce? Had I? No way. I'd remember that.
"No, sweetheart, it's not for your Mother." I'm sure confusion is written all over my face. "You thought it was for her?" The question hung out there— stupid and defensive. I haven't gotten her gifts in years... Why would she think that?
"Ummm... But why's it here dad?" Her eyes went wide. "It's for me?! For my first day of junior high?! I KNEW you'd think of something!"
I should have said no. That was my moment. Should've told her the truth. I'd hidden it in Macy's closet thinking there's no way Felicity would go digging there. And to be honest, the bottom of her closet is like a cesspool—unsure when last it had been cleaned, I thought for sure it would keep for a couple weeks. Stupid. Just stupid. Clearly.  
But she looked up at me with those green eyes that kill me every time.
"I've never had anything this beautiful. Sophia has something like it—but not as beautiful. Nothing's this beautiful," the last words merely a whisper in awe as she stroked the leather.