Robin ran a shaking hand through his mussed hair. The after work traffic was horrendous, stretching nearly two and a half miles and congesting all four lanes of the highway. Horns blared in an obnoxious pattern, hundreds of drivers anxious to get where they needed to go. The sun was slowly sinking behind the trees that lined the side of the road, making him squint at the afternoon brightness.
Regina was going to kill him. He'd been late home from work every day for the past week, staying late to work ahead on demanding projects. She'd finally had enough of it and told him to either come home on time or to just stay in the office all night; she had no interest in being second place in his life. And of course, he'd felt guilty. She was his wife, for heaven's sake, she should be his number one priority. He didn't make vows to his job, he made vows to love and cherish her for the rest of his life.
And yet, here he was, sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, once again late in getting home to Regina. He could call her, but he felt that somehow she wouldn't buy that he was stuck in traffic and not making an excuse to stay at work for another hour or two. But against his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and clicked the only number in his speed dial. Her name shone in bright, white font as the phone began to ring. She picked up on the second ring.
"Where are you?"
Robin rubbed a hand over his face. She was pissed. Probably more than pissed, but from what he could gather from the tone of her voice, he was just going to go with she was very, very pissed at him.
"I'm on the highway, stuck in traffic," he half-mumbled into the phone.
She scoffed on the other line. Now he knew for sure she was so much more than pissed. "That has to be the lamest excuse you've come up with yet, Robin," Regina growled. "You know, it amazes me how much of a joke you though I was being when I said not to bother to come home the next time."
"Regina, what do you want me to do? Flag down the traffic copter and get them to send you a video?! I'm stuck in fucking traffic!" he bellowed.
Her breathing got heavier on the other end. He was pushing all the wrong buttons, and he was pushing them hard. She had no tolerance for being yelled at, something he learned early on in their relationship.
"You're an asshole," she practically hissed. "What right do you have to-"
"Oh, shut up, Regina!" He clapped a hand over his mouth, instantly regretting his words. "Regina, honey, I'm sorry. I-"
She'd already hung up on him. Oh, he'd gone and done it now. Their relationship had been tense as of late, and it was mostly his fault, he knew that. He'd been neglecting her to try and get ahead in his work, leaving her to her own devices until he decided to show up. They hadn't been intimate in almost a month. He was always indifferent and she was always on the defensive. He didn't give a crap and she liked to constantly call him out on that fact. If he was honest, their marriage was falling apart.
Five years. It had lasted five years. The day of their wedding, nobody could tear them apart. Now they found excuses to get away from each other. He was always holed up in his office, working. She was always out and about, bar hopping with her friends and coming home in the wee hours of the morning. Though, now that he thought about it, the past couple of weeks she had been staying in, either reading on the couch or in their room.
The traffic finally began to move, and he sighed a breath of relief. But his relief was short lived. How was he going to make this up to her? He'd basically just shot their marriage in the head. What the hell had he been thinking, telling her to shut up?
He'd made a promise to her on their wedding night that he would never be like her parents; she would always be the most important thing in his life, always his top priority in every way. Her mother was an abusive bitch that didn't give two shits about her children, and her father was a doormat, letting his wife get away with murder. It had taken Regina almost a year to admit to him that her mother had abused her, both physically and mentally. It had taken all of the self-control in his body to keep him from going to her parent's house and shooting both of them.
Now Robin had joined their cause. He'd broken his promise to her; he'd let her down, and if she was smart, she would never forgive him. She deserved so much better than anything he could ever try and give her. She deserved a mansion, not the cheap one story house he'd bought spur of the moment after she'd begged him for close to two years to finally get out of their little apartment. She deserved someone who would be there for her, who would truly give her all of their love and attention.
A half hour later, he pulled into their driveway. It was cracking, parts of it laying in the browning grass. Regina had been bugging him about fixing it, and he always told her there was nothing wrong with it. Another example of how he had been neglecting her and their home.
He parked the car and stumbled out onto the broken asphalt. He looked up and saw her watching him from the window with a look of surprise. She hadn't expected him to actually show up, Robin can tell from the way she's staring at him with one perfectly shaped eyebrow reaching up into her hairline, her pretty lips twisted into a half frown. She'd expected him to never show up. He usually didn't when they argued, usually went and bummed at his friend John's house for the night or however long he decided they needed space.
He looked down at his shoes in embarrassed guilt. There would be nothing he could say to make it up to her. With a sigh, he grabbed his bag and shut the car's door as gently as he could. The walk to the front door was only ten steps, but right then it felt like ten hundred. He could still feel Regina's gaze on him as he walked towards the bright red door. He chuckled to himself as he fumbled around in his bag for his keys.
Red was her favorite color. Red dresses, red blouses, red shoes, red lipstick, red everything! He hardly saw Regina without there being some shade of the color on her person. When they'd bought the house, it was the only thing she'd wanted any say in. She'd begged and begged and begged him to paint the door a shade of crimson so deep, it looked like blood, and he'd finally given in to her wish, painting the door with her. Robin smiled at the memory, but his smile quickly died. He'd found his key.
He slid the key into the door, twisting it four or five times before the lock finally clicked. There was another thing she'd always brought up to him about fixing: the stick lock that often caused her frustration. He pushed the door open and meandered in, hoping Regina had moved to a different area of the house. No such luck; she was still standing in front of the window, but her eyes were focused on him. She made no indication that she was going to move from her spot any time soon.
He closed the door gently and then deposited his bag beside the shoe rack in the entryway, a cheap thing he'd bought from Walmart when they had been decorating the house. It was one thing she'd always hated when they lived in the apartment, the fact that he would discard his shoes anywhere he felt like, leaving a maze of sneakers and loafers for her to trip over. He glanced over briefly, peeking a look at Regina. She was still looking at him, but her eyebrow was back in its place. She crossed her arms and leaned back slightly. She was waiting for him to start giving her excuses and she was preparing herself for it.
He straightened but made no moved to get any closer to her. He'd learned from two years of dating and five years of marriage that she got like a caged animal when she felt threatened, especially when she was in an environment that usually was a safe haven for her. He'd brought a bomb into their home, and she was justing waiting for him to push the detonator. Her body was still facing the window. He realized now that her arms weren't crossed: she was hugging herself. She turned her head to look back out the window.
"I didn't think you would actually show up," she half-whispered. "Or did you just come to pick up your night bag before you go spend the night at John's?"
He hung his head. "No...no, I'm not going to spend the night at John's." He looked up to try and gage her reaction. "Unless you want me to leave. Then I'll go."
She still didn't turn to look at him, but her frown deepened and she hugged herself tighter. "It depends," she said, her eyes never leaving the glass.
"Depends on what, Regina?" Robin asked, taking a step forward. He was probably pushing it, but she looked so small and fragile right then, like she could fall apart at any second.
"The extent of the excuse, I suppose."
She was trying to goad him, he knew, and it half worked. He clenched his jaw in frustration and closed his eyes, trying to keep his temper. She just wanted a reaction. She just wanted him to show any hint of emotion.
"It wasn't an excuse, Regina, I really was stuck in traffic," he said evenly. "You can check the news report, if you need some sort of validation."
She turned to look at him then, her eyes filled with tears. "I was checking it while I was on the phone with you. I was five seconds away from apologizing when you freaked out." She looked away again. "And then you told me to shut up..."
Now he really felt like an asshole. Regina's mother used to frequently tell her and her sister to shut up, the two words often accompanied by being roughly grabbed and thrown into their tiny shared room. He'd never told her to shut up before, had made it a goal to never say it to her in anything but a joking manner. He hung his head in shame.
"Regina, I'm sorry," he sobbed as tears streamed down his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I...I try to be good enough, and then I turn around and throw everything away, I-"
"Robin, what are you talking about?" Regina asked, and she took two steps toward him. "What do you mean, good enough?"
He rolled his eyes in exasperation, throwing his hands up before they came down and smacked against his thighs. "You know I'm not good enough for you, Regina! You knew you were settling the night you agreed to marry me!" He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and put his head in his hands, tears still running down his face. "You deserve someone who can actually love you the way you're supposed to be loved."
There was silence for a minute, and he felt certain she had left the room. When had felt her hand run through his hair, though, he only started to sob harder. He put his head against her stomach, grabbing her waist with all the strength he had. This was it; this was the moment she was going to tell him that she was leaving him. He just wanted to hold her one last time, to get her scent forever engrained in his mind, to have the feeling of her soften forever there on the tips of his fingers. Regina continued to run her hand through his hari.
"You are good enough, Robin," she choked out. She was crying, too. "Do you...do you remember when I told you about..." She paused, clearing her throat. "When I told you about my mother? You...you were so angry, you wanted to go to my parent's and do something."
He hugged her closer as she talked and just continued to sob into her. "I remember," he finally answered.
She chuckled softly. "You promised me that you would always take care of me like no one ever had." She kissed the top of his head, lingering briefly right about his head. "That is all I have ever wanted in life: someone to love me like no one ever had before."
He only sobbed harder. "But, Regina, I...I haven't! I haven't ta-taken care of you like I should have been. You deserve the world, you deserve-"
She pulled his head up, and he stared at her slightly puffy face. "I deserve you."
She kissed his lips then, and he relished the feeling of hers against his own. They were soft and full and tasted slightly salty from her tears. He very reluctantly pulled away from her when the need for air became immediate. As he looked into his wife's face, Robin realized that this woman deserved everything he could give her, and from then until the day he died he was going to make it his only goal to make her feel like the queen that she was.
