He didn't look my way, and for a second I was grateful that I blended into the darkness and shadows. But watching him strut off toward the church looking excited to walk into that meeting made me remember how good it felt to have those men surround me and encourage me.
I stood there watching until he descended into the building, and everything inside me screamed at me to just follow him.
Robert was right.
There was supposed to be so much more to life than just drinking until I passed out. I had so many hopes and dreams, and so much to offer this world. The very fact that I could see how life was supposed to be, even though it wasn't, proved to me that it could improve. I had seen life improve already. And here I was, refusing to get up and try again.
Veda didn't do that to me. I did.
What she had done for me was to show me that hope existed. I was the one who had done the rest.
It made something click inside my chest, and slovenly drunk or not, I knew I needed that meeting more than I needed air. Istarted walking back toward the church, hoping somehow, those men could forgive my failure.
And maybe, just maybe, after this meeting was over and I was a bit clearer of mind, I'd have the patience to at least listen to Veda's story.
He was right about that too… We were having a baby together, like it or not, and it was now the one good thing in my life I knew I couldn’t mess up.
30
VEDA
My tongue was virtually frozen after eating a half gallon of mint chocolate chip to try to stave off the worst of my depression. Regan was tending bar, otherwise she'd have been at my house in stained sweats eating pizza and letting me vent to her. No way in heck was I ever going into that bar again, not after the way Clayton treated me before. I had to find a new job.
I sat on my couch feeling too sad and lethargic to move a muscle after three days of job searching and crying. I hadn’t heard from Clayton, but I wasn't stupid enough to believe that he'd forget about what I owed him. And the only one from Locke Global who had called me or anything was Sherise from HR, who just wanted to let me know my last check would be deposited on Monday.
And just like that, my life changed.
Asher was gone—who even knew how bad of a bender he'd gone on. My job was over, no chance I'd get back into that company for sure, and they probably sent out a memo to every investmentfirm in the city to not hire me. And I wasn't going back to The Pub. It left me feeling hollow inside, a shell of my former self.
The news bored me. There were no good movies on. And when I moved toward the kitchen to throw away the empty ice cream container, someone knocked at my door.
It was a little late for visitors, but not late enough to believe it was Regan after work. This time of night, no one just knocked on your door except the police, which I was certain would not happen to me. But I stalked over and looked through the peep hole.
There in the hallway outside my apartment stood Asher Locke. He looked miserable, red, puffy eyes that were blood shot, with bags under them that bulged out obscenely. His shirt hung open, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. He looked foul, like maybe he smelled off or hadn't showered in days, and I wasn't sure why he'd even show up here.
Part of me wanted to stay behind that door and just admire how handsome he was, even as a drunken wreck—because it seemed obvious to me that he'd been drinking. When you're a bartender for as long as I had been, you notice these things. But another part of me desperately wanted his arms around me, which of course won out over hesitancy.
I pulled the door open and stood there gawking at him. What was I supposed to say? The last time I saw him, he'd told me to leave and never speak to him again. Now he stood on my welcome mat wasted and disheveled.
"Can I come in?" he said in an angry tone, so I backed up a few steps, letting him pass. He stalked right to my living room and slumped onto the couch as if he owned the place, which wasmortifying considering the pile of used tissues and the takeout containers sitting around the place. I scurried to clean a few up before perching in my armchair, out of his reach.
"Do you want some water or…" Just looking at him made my heart feel like a ton of bricks.
"I'm fine, thanks," he grunted and to my surprise, I didn't smell alcohol on him. Though he looked like a wreck all the same.
"How are you doing?" I had no right to ask him that. Asher was hurting. It was obvious, given his appearance, and I was the one who had hurt him. But I loved him, and I cared how he was doing.
He looked up at me with pain in his expression and shook his head. "Twenty-four hours sober… Again."
Tears welled up, but I forced them back because it wasn't my place to share emotion right now. He didn’t show up to pity me. I didn't know why he was here. I thought he hated me.
"Are you angry with me?" I asked softly, but I already knew the answer.
"I'm furious with you, Veda, but as part of my recovery, I have to listen to you. I can't move past this and heal and stay sober until I know the facts…" His eyes were burning, fire shooting at me so hot, I could feel that anger. I had to blink harder to keep the tears back.
But I wanted to give him whatever it was that helped him be sober. If that was answers, then I wanted him to have them.
"Start talking?" he said, lifting his eyebrows impatiently.
