“That I embarrassed you.”
“You threw wine in my face.”
“I was angry.”
“You threatened our marriage because I refused to pay a bill you handed me.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“My mother was there. I felt pressured.”
I stared at him.
“So you decided to humiliate me instead?”
He looked away.
Then he said the words I had wanted to hear for years.
“I’m sorry.”
For a brief moment, hope stirred inside me.
Then he continued.
“I’m sorry things got out of hand. But you shouldn’t have called the police.”
There it was.
Even his apology came with a demand that I accept responsibility for his actions.
I shook my head.
“You’re not sorry you did it. You’re sorry people saw you do it.”
His face hardened.
“You’re twisting everything.”
“No, Spencer. I’m finally seeing everything clearly.”
I collected my documents, clothing, and personal belongings.
He followed me through the house, alternately pleading and accusing.
