His Regrets

Damien Shaw

“I don’t think staring at your wedding photo continuously will bring her back to you.” Breonna says as she walks into my office.

Breonna is my adopted sister who doesn’t knock. She never has. And I should’ve known she isn’t going to this time either. Her steps are hurried, and she has a knack for speaking as she enters the room. What I didn’t know, was how she predicted that I was staring at my wedding photo.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I don’t meet her judgy gaze.

“Joke’s on you, I was focused on a spreadsheet of products and how much is selling.” I say, my gaze still on the stack of papers in front of me.

She smirks, then walks to my desk and lifts the papers up to reveal a photo of Imogene and me buried under the stack of papers.

“You were saying?” she asks, making her way across the table to sit in the chair opposite me.

I exhale sharply. It’s the only picture of Imogene I have and it’s the only picture I’ve been staring at for three years. The paper company should be commended because no matter how many times I fold and unfold the picture into my wallet, it never seems to tear or fade out.

I finally raise my head to look at Breonna. She’s wearing a blue long sleeve dress and her glossy golden hair is brushed out and tumbles over her shoulders like a waterfall. But her usually lit face is gaunt and pale, with dark circles and bags under her sunken eyes.

“You look like shit,” I say, and I don’t hide the surprise in my voice.

Breonna’s eyes sparks with a hint of humor as she smirks at me and replies, “And you look like a fucking Ken doll. Drug dealer Barbie style.”

A huff of a laugh escapes me and she leans a little on my table, “I’ve been staying up late to study. Finals are wild and I’m graduating college in three days!”

“Aww, honey!”

She’s just twenty four but she’s in her final year of college. One would say graduating college means you’ve got everything figured out. Not her, she’s already planned to take a gap year to decide what she really wants.

Isn’t gap year supposed to be before college?

“She’s back in town. I heard it from someone.” Breonna suddenly says, her expression growing serious.

She knows I know what she knows. And she knows I’ve been waiting for it all my life. I’ve made horrible mistakes in my life and one of them was treating Imogene the way I did.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you think she still loves you?” Breonna asks me and I feel a chill in my bone.

That was the bigger question. Would Imogene even want to see me? Maybe she doesn’t love me anymore and maybe she doesn’t want to see me but I do love and want to see her.

I’m not mistaken just like when I thought I was in love with Fiona but only to realize I loved her because she tried her best to act a lot like Imogene. She just couldn’t be her, none of the women I had affairs with could be her.

And when Imogene finally left, I realized I had lost something valuable. I had lost the woman that stood by me and made sure my dreams became reality while unending hers.

I searched for her everywhere for three years until I heard the news that she was returning to LA to open her second art gallery.

“I don’t know, there’s only one way to find out.” I reply.

“But do you still love her?” Breonna asks, propping her chin.

Of course, I do. To love has always been a problem for me. At least that’s what I thought after the way my father treated my mother when I was young. He abandoned us and my mother raised me all on her own.

My father was irresponsible and failed to acknowledge his own actions. My mother saw me through college but passed away in my final year of college. She couldn’t see me graduate. After college, I met Imogene, the daughter of a rich conglomerate. She loved me for who I was and made me successful.

I shouldn’t treated her like shit but I was blinded by my own insecurities and greed. Now she’s back so it’s finally the right time to make things right.

My head tilts back slightly and I run a hand down my face. “I do love Imogene and I want to make things right.”

Breonna cocks a brow at my response, but I stay firm. Leaning forward, she puts both palms on the desk and asks quietly, like it’s a secret, “How do you intend to make it right? You can’t get Imogene back with money just like you solve any problems that comes your way. At least that’s what I think, I barely know her.”

Right, Breonna only joined the family two years ago. My aunt and uncle took her in after her parent’s death.

I steady my back against the leather chair, letting one hand fall to the armrest, my fingers tracing along the steel nail heads.

“I wish I knew,” I tell her in a breath. “Her gallery’s grand opening is tonight.”

“You’re going to her gallery opening, aren’t you?”

I don’t respond immediately. My gaze drifts back to the wedding photo, to the life I let slip through my fingers.

“I have to,” I finally say. “It’s my last chance to make things right.”

Breonna leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “And what if she doesn’t want to see you? What if she’s moved on?”

The air in the room tenses. A moment passes, and I can’t breathe. I’ve waited three years for this moment but I can’t find a definite answer. The hope that I might one day get Imogene back has kept me going. But I have never for once thought about a million ways things could go wrong.

“Just… don’t make it worse, Damien. Don’t hurt her again.” Breonna says again.

I nod. “I won’t.”

As she leaves my office, I hear her voice, softer this time. “You’re not the only one with regrets.”

I pause, turning back to her. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Just… be careful.”

She says something about Imogene again, but I don’t hear, and she’s already gone before I can question her. Staring at the closed door, Breonna’s words echoed in my mind.

“Just… don’t make it worse, Damien. Don’t hurt her again,”

Her words strike a nerve. I know I’ve made mistakes, but this is my chance to make amends. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I sit back in my chair, staring at the closed door where Breonna disappeared. My heart pounds as I imagine what’s to come. Tonight, at Imogene’s gallery opening, everything could change. I’ll see her again. But what if she looks at me with the same disdain she had when she left? What if she’s moved on completely, and the pain of my mistakes is something I’ll never escape?