The Apology Gift

'You check the receipts because you don't trust my love.' He made her apologize.

The apology was a physical thing, a lump in her throat she had to swallow before she could speak. She sat on the edge of the bed in the master suite, her hands folded in her lap like a penitent schoolgirl. Marcus stood by the dresser, his back to her, arranging his toiletries with meticulous precision.

"I'm sorry," she said to his reflection in the mirror. "I shouldn't have gone there. I was... confused. The hormones."

He didn't turn around. He just sighed, the sound of a man burdened by the irrationality of women. "It's okay, El. I know you're under a lot of pressure. We both are."

He picked up a small blue box from the dresser. Velvet. Gold trim.

He turned then, his face softening into the expression he wore in their wedding photos—devotion, patience, love. He walked over to her and sat down, the mattress sinking under his weight.

"I got you something," he said, opening the box. "I saw it and thought of you."

It was a diamond tennis bracelet. Thin, elegant, expensive.

"Marcus," she breathed, playing the role. "You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to," he said, unclasping it. "Give me your wrist."

She held out her arm. He fastened the bracelet, his fingers warm against her pulse point. It glittered under the recessed lighting, a circle of cold fire binding her to him.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"It matches your eyes," he said, kissing her wrist right over the diamonds. "Bright. Clear."

He stood up, satisfied that the crisis had been managed, the asset secured. "I'm going to take a shower. Wash off the... travel."

He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The water turned on, a heavy, drumming sound.

Elena looked down at the bracelet. It was beautiful. It was generous.

It was also a duplicate.

She stood up and walked to the dresser. He had left his wallet and keys there, along with a few receipts crumpled into a ball.

She picked up the ball of paper. Her fingers smoothed it out against the polished wood.

*Tiffany & Co. - Chicago, Magnificent Mile.*
*Date: Yesterday.*
*Item: Diamond Tennis Bracelet. Qty: 1.*
*Item: Sapphire Pendant Necklace. Qty: 1.*

She stared at the receipt.

He had bought them at the same time. One trip to the counter. One swipe of the card.

She touched her neck. It was bare.

She looked at her wrist. The diamond bracelet.

She looked at the closed bathroom door.

He had given her the bracelet. The "apology" gift. The "I love you" gift.

But he hadn't given her the pendant.

She opened the top drawer of the dresser, moving his socks aside. Nothing. She checked his suit jacket pocket. Nothing.

Then she remembered the dopp kit.

She walked to the bathroom door. It was unlocked. She pushed it open silently. The steam billowed out, smelling of cedar and expensive soap. Marcus was in the shower, a silhouette behind the frosted glass.

His dopp kit was on the counter.

She unzipped it.

There, nestled between his razor and his deodorant, was the other blue velvet box.

She opened it.

The sapphire pendant winked up at her. Deep blue. The color of the ocean in the photo. The color of the stone Seraphina was wearing in the picture on the balcony.

He hadn't bought it for her. He had bought it for Seraphina. He just hadn't had a chance to give it to her yet. Or maybe he had given her the one in the photo, and this was a spare? No. The photo was from yesterday. He had the receipt from yesterday.

He bought two.

One for the wife he needed to control.
One for the sister he wanted to keep.

She snapped the box shut and shoved it back into the bag. She zipped it up, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She backed out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed until it clicked.

She looked down at the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It felt heavy now. Like a shackle.

One diamond tennis bracelet. One sapphire pendant. She didn't get the pendant.