Hemingway shook his head slightly at her apologies, not really feeling like she had anything to apologise for. Sure, the texts were't pleasant reading, but he could hardly blame her. And he probably wouldn't even have realised that he'd fucked up big time unless she had.
He listened to what she had to say and felt queasy. More than anything, he wanted to rewind time and just fucking think before he acted for once in his damn life. He'd done some really shitty things to people he loved. Over and over, and his mind was doing a wonderful job of reminding him of every single one- but he managed somehow to ignore it, quiet it, focus on the woman in front of him rather than get lost in the past.
"God, Abi, I'm sorry, I'm such an ass," his heart practically broke to hear her so torn up about something he'd done without even thinking. "It wasn't- I didn't mean it to be cold or cruel, I honestly just agreed without even thinking about how it would seem," he tried to explain, feeling himself floundering already. He didn't want to panic, but he felt like he could feel her slipping away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. It was the most self-absorbed thing," he told her a little desperately.