"What's up, Keat?" Brock answers.
"You and Kayla have plans?"
"I planned on spending the rest of the night inside her, so whatever you need better be worth my giving up my woman's pussy for. What do you need?"
"The bar and a hell of a lot of alcohol."
"How bad do you need it?" he asks, groaning.
"Charlie texted. She kissed Alek and agreed to go on a date."
"Fuck," he says. "We'll meet you there in ten."
Brock and Kayla know every messy detail about me, Charlie, and Rianna. They don't condone what I did, but they see I'm trying to change. That's enough for them to stick around. I don't drink these days, so Brock knows if I'm craving it, things are seriously fucked.
Alcohol was never my demon, but I know it strips away my guardrails. It lets you do the things you only dare to imagine sober. Until Rianna is out of my orbit and I trust myself again, I won't risk drinking alone.
All I feel for Rianna now is a raw disgust, but I once swore I only saw her as a friend. That lie shattered the night I fucked her, skin to skin, against the pool house wall.
So I choose caution over regret.
Lionel has been helping me understand that there were so many times that day, or any day before it, when I could have put a stop to it. We haven't gotten too deep yet because we're going hard in next month's session and opening my mind up to that day, but he's been touching the surface of my affair with Rianna. There are so many things that I've found hard to admit, and he tells me it might be a while before we get to thewhy. He seems proud of my progress so far.
I'm grateful for his pride in me, even if it feels like my road to redemption stretches on forever.
With a heavy sigh, I push myself up and head to the office for a clean shirt, locking up behind me as I step into the night.
***
"You said you were going to drink," Brock growls. "All you've done is take one fucking shot and then have sat there staring at a damn water bottle. I passed up fucking my woman because you needed me."
I chuckle at his irritation. "Thanks, man. I thought I needed to drink, but maybe I just needed company. Go home to her."
"Fuck," he spits out a curse.
I glance over and see the color drain from his face as he stares across the crowded bar. I follow his gaze and spot him locked in a silent war with a stunning, smirking redhead.
A knot tightens in my gut as I turn back to him. His hand shakes when he lifts his whiskey, eyes fixed anywhere but on me.
"Brock. Man. Tell me you didn't."
He slams the glass down on the bar and still refuses to meet my eyes, but I can see the remorse all over his face because it's the same damn thing I see every time I look in the mirror.
"I've got to get home to Kayla and Ryder," he says, referring to his fiancée and two-year-old son.
"Man, talk to me. I've been there. I am there," I plead with my best friend.
Brock finally looks up, eyes glassy and brimming with pain, and my heart cracks for both him and Kayla.
He shakes his head and chokes out, "I can't. I'm sorry, bro, but I can't."
"Does Kayla know?" I ask.
His watery laugh is bitter as his eyes find the woman and then come back to me. "She will tonight. Seems my bad choice has finally caught up to me, too."
Before I can say a word, he's on his feet and out the door. I follow, partly to check on him, partly to make sure he leaves alone.
Is this how Amelia felt when she caught me cheating on Charlie?
