“I’m sorry, baby. God, I'm so damn sorry you have no idea.”

I said, spewing out apologies. I had gotten caught up in a few meetings with the Italians about the drug stocks and the close call we came across with a potential mole. It was your birthday and I had everything planned out. We had a reservation at your favorite restaurant and just when I was going to let you know that i’d be late, my phone fucking died. Instead, you had to wait at the restaurant for me just for them to give away our table since I wasn’t there.

Words couldn’t describe how shitty I felt. I hated when you got hurt and even worse when I was the cause of it. I always wanted to make you feel spoiled and special, but here I was coming home at 11:45 at night. You looked at me without saying anything, but you didn’t have to. The moment your eyes met mine I knew how hurt you were, and I felt my heart sink into my stomach.

“Please, love. Just let me explain” I pleaded, taking your hands in my ring clad ones.