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He had stopped at a café, and noted a table that had yet to be cleared a few seats from his. The porcelain cup had a moon-shaped red lipstick stain, a very familiar and unique colour around the rim. He didn't want to seem completely odd and ask but he was content that he was on the right track. His pleasure was short lived however, as he left without ordering and strode towards the metro stop that would take him to the cemetery, and he realised he had no clue what to say to her when he did see her. 'Sorry' seemed like such an ineffectual start, and throwing himself at her feet seemed a little contrived so he didn't know what to do. He hoped instinct told him what to do – though recently his instinct hadn't been excellent in terms of marriage direction. If he had had any direction at all, he would have told Wednesday that he would not keep her engagement a secret. He would have marched her to Morticia and made her show that infernal engagement ring. Right now, if he had done that, he would be drinking a brandy in the parlour, in Morticia's fine company, after putting his son to bed. He would have a cigar, a content family, and most importantly, a deliciously unhappy wife.
The cemetery was deserted, and the sun was making an attempt to push through a cloudy sky. All in all, it was a perfect day for visiting a cemetery so he hoped she would be there. He threaded his way through the monuments, stopping every time there seemed like a place someone might pause. He made his way towards Abelard and Heloise's grave as he knew it was a particular favourite of his wife's after his search proved fruitless.
She was there, facing towards the tomb, her black hair tricking down onto her velvet cloak like oil. His heart, quite literally, stopped. He didn't think, really that finding her would have been this simple. She didn't give herself away easily – yet here, she was completely at ease.
Her shoulders were less angular. Softened; she had relaxed them and loosened her neck. Her hands were pushed out from her body and lightly curled around the edge of the bench. He stepped behind her and couldn't resist placing his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, from surprise rather than disgust.
He squeezed lightly, for fear that he may well burst into tears, hoping to convey everything of his apology in that one touch.