Even if my wife could forgive me for the number of women I’d fucked since her passing… Even if she could see that I was trying to do good by Sophia by letting her be raised by paid nannies instead of fucked up by a dad who had no idea what he was doing… I knew that there was no possible way she could ever forgive me for looking at her baby sister the way I had been. And if I didn’t watch myself, I knew I’d fuck everything up by acting on my thoughts, and that could only result in my burning in hell.
I pushed all thoughts of her from my head and stepped on the gas a little harder, causing my car to shoot down the freeway, closer to the golf course and further away from the desires that hadn’t eased. I didn’t know how to fix the predicament I was in, but ignoring it seemed like as good an option as any until a decision could be made. Avoiding her was proving to be more complicated than I thought. And even when I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her. I knew I needed to try and figure something out, some way to make shit work, but I didn’t have any idea how to do so.
I pulled into the golf course parking lot a little while later and killed the engine. I made my way inside and was greeted by the waiting staff. I was immediately led to the table set directly in front of the large window overlooking the green. The place was starting to open and get busy, but Todd, my golfing buddy, hadn’t arrived yet.
I ordered a Bloody Mary to drink while I waited, fearing the way others would gossip about me if I were to be seen with a glass of bourbon so early in the day. I did, however, order more vodka and less of everything else to even it out. I had all morning to get a buzz going and all afternoon to sober up enough to drive home. Then I planned on doing it all over again: get hammered off my ass so I’d be too fucked up to think about anything else, especially the way her body fit so nicely next to mine.
My hand tingled and burned when I thought about grabbing her thigh the night before when she tossed her leg over my lap. I grabbed my drink the moment it was placed in front of me and downed it until I was gasping for air. Before the waiter could walk away, I ordered another round, passing over the empty glass. “And this time, skip out on the celery.”
The waiter nodded and walked away with my empty glass in hand. Moments later, I saw Todd enter the front door. He spotted me immediately and made his way over.
“You ready to get your ass handed to you today?”
I chuckled and stood from the table.
“We’ll see about that.”
What I was ready for was a distraction. I needed her out of my head at all costs.
NINETEEN
SASHA
Iwoke up to pain, or pain is what woke me.
Either way, before I even opened my eyes, I had a blinding headache. My mouth was dry, causing my tongue to feel thick. My stomach was rolling, and it felt like the slightest move would have me heaving.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I needed water, but that meant moving, and moving meant puking. I thought back on the night before, trying to remember what led me to where I was. I remembered going out with my friends. I remembered drinking. Even though I didn’t ever drink, I was having such a fun time dancing with the girls that I had way too much. I had heard about how bad hangovers could be, but I never experienced one.
Then I remembered something else.
Roman.
Memories came rushing into my mind, one after another. He told me to come home, was there in the living room when I arrived, and carried me to my room.
My body filled with heat again at the memory of his touch. He was in my room, in my bed. My eyes opened, and I turned my head from one direction to the other, finding my bed empty.
I breathed a sigh of relief and confusion. At the forefront of my mind, I wondered if I had dreamed it all. Surely he wouldn’t have gotten into bed with me. Deep down, though, I knew that he had because I asked him to.
He had gotten up at some point. Probably the moment I fell asleep. Still, he left me with a glass of water and two Tylenol on the bedside table.
Even though moving caused my stomach to roll with sickness, I forced myself to reach for the water and pills. I downed them quickly and then rested my head back on the pillow. The pounding was too loud, the pain too intense. Just lifting my head made me dizzy. I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why people would drink alcohol. It didn’t even taste all that good. Even the colorful, fruity drinks that looked like they should taste good didn’t. They all had that spice, that kick that warmed your belly the moment it settled.
I wasn’t a fan.
It did make it a little easier to have fun, though. And apparently, it gave me liquid courage. I couldn’t remember everything Roman and I talked about, but I knew I must have said some things I wouldn’t have said any other time for him to end up in my bed.
I pushed everything away and forced myself to get up. I had a kid to take care of, and I needed to get my shit together to do it. I slowly stood from bed and headed toward the bathroom. I moved at a snail’s pace, and it helped to keep the sickness from growing too strong. It allowed me to brush the horrible taste from my mouth and take a quick shower. Instead of dressing like I normally would, I opted for a lazy day of sweats and a messy bun.
I had just made myself a cup of coffee when Sophia walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “I hungry.”
I sipped my coffee.
“What are you in the mood for?” I asked, praying she didn’t want anything that required too much work.
She looked up at me and frowned, probably confused by my disheveled appearance. “Muffins.”
“Perfect,” I said, lifting the glass cover of the cake stand. I grabbed the blueberry muffin sitting there and tossed it to her gently.
