Matt glances over. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, man.” He looks back at the server. “I’ll just have water.”
“No, he’ll keep the whiskey,” I say, then turn to Matt. “You don’t need to do that. What, are you never going to drink around me again? Come on, that’s not realistic. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Someone might as well enjoy.”
He did this last night too—started to order a drink at dinner, then changed his mind. It’s fucking stupid. I don’t need this to be a thing.
It’s our third day here. After Matt picked me up, we spent a day exploring Lucerne before driving to Zermatt last night. It’s killing me not to ski, but I can’t risk it—my knee or my sobriety.
We’ve done a lot of talking and catching up. It’s been good. I’ve actually had fun—something that almost feels foreign. I don’t even know the last time I laughed like this. I mean, sure, there were laughs in rehab, but that’s not the same as sitting around with your childhood best friend, shooting the shit and making dumb jokes.
The first few minutes of the drive were a little stiff—the usualso, tell me about rehabstuff—but after twenty minutes, we were laughing and reminiscing, just like old times. I’ve mostly talked about treatment, and he’s filled me in on my family, new projects at work, and everything I missed while I was gone.
I haven’t brought up Alley yet. I didn’t want this whole trip to be about her, even if she’s constantly on my mind. I wanted us to get back to our old rhythm before I mentioned her. And now feels like as good a time as any.
“Hey, on the bright side, Alley won’t have to be the only sober one at parties anymore, right?” I take a sip of my water, casually feeling him out with the mention of her name.
A server drops off Matt’s drink.
“Right.” He picks up his whiskey and takes a slow sip. “You planning to see your mom before Christmas Eve?”
Seriously?
He’s just going to sidestep that like I didn’t just bring up the woman I love? My wife? He did this on our calls too. Every time I mentioned her, he’d skim past it—short answer, quick pivot, end of discussion.
It pisses me off. Not because I don’t get it—I do. It’s messy. It’s awkward. And maybe he’s still holding a grudge about how everything went down with Alley.
But Jesus. I’d rather he just say that than sit here dodging whatever bullshit he’s trying to avoid.
Matt always gives it to me straight. He’s solid. And he’s never given up on me. I owe him everything. For being there. For showing up. For helping Alley when I couldn’t. He’s always been more than a friend. He’s my brother.
But anytime I bring her up?—
“Why won’t you talk to me about her?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just picks up his glass and takes another sip, like the whiskey might soften whatever it is he doesn’t want to say.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I know I fucked up, man. I know what I did. And I know the chances of her taking me back are slim. But I’ve changed. I’m not going to relapse. It’s different this time. I just… I need to see her. Talk to her. I need to show her.”
“You really think it’s that simple?” He sets his drink down. “You put her through hell.” He sighs, rubbing his chin. “Look, I know you’ve done the work. I know you’ve changed, and I’m proud of you. I am. But she’s gone, brother. She moved. She filed. And in four months…four months—she hasn’t asked about you. Not once.”
The words hit me like bricks to the face. I stare at him, stunned.Fuck. I thought I was ready for whatever he was about to say, but I wasn’t ready for that. Nausea punches up my throat so fast it nearly chokes me. I force it back, swallowing hard.
“Not once?” My voice cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He shrugs. “What was I supposed to say?Hey, your wife hasn’t asked about you?You were healing. You needed hope. I couldn’t be the one to take it away.” He shakes his head. “I’ve given her every chance to ask. She never has. And I’ve kept her in the loop, but only because she wanted to know why the papers hadn’t been served.”
He takes another sip, and I stare at his drink while gripping my water glass, rubbing my thumb against the condensation.God, whiskey would be real fucking nice right now.
“I’m not saying it’s impossible, I’m just saying, don’t go back thinking a speech is going to fix it. That ship might’ve sailed. She’s in Chicago now.” His shoulders sag as he meets my gaze, sorrow deep in his eyes. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”
Words fail me. The shock spreads through me like a virus, poisoning every part of my body.She hasn’t asked about me once?
All I’ve thought about for four fucking months is Alley. She’s the first thing I think of when I wake up, the thing that carries me through the hardest parts of the day, and the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep. She’s my number one. She’s everything.
Jesus. I knew I’d messed up, but I don’t know if I realized how bad things had gotten if she’s that far gone.
