“You’re fucking useless,” I snarl at myself.
I push back the chair and get to my feet.
The quiet of my office bunker and the vintage Macallan whisky are no longer dulling the roaring in my head, so I decide to head out.
I know I should go home, but the thought of seeing Riley and facing our new reality makes me want to claw my own skin off.
What I need is more booze, so I take the elevator down to the garage, pick out the keys for my Aston Martin, and head straight forThe Blackthorn.It’s the only place where I can drink myself into oblivion, which is exactly what I intend to do.
I’ve barely taken a seat at the bar before Hudson slides a double whiskey along the bar toward me. It doesn’t touch the sides, and he quickly sets another in front of me, as well as the rest of the bottle.
“Good man,” I mutter.
The lighting inThe Blackthornis dim, which helps to ease the dull throbbing in my temples.
Normally, I can function on little sleep and a diet of booze and leftover pizza, but right now my body feels like it might finally be losing the fight.
How the hell did I get here?
Riley Walsh ended up on my doorstep, that’s how.
This is all Ronan’s fault.
Snatching up the bottle, I toss back a few swigs. Even justthinkingabout Riley has my chest feeling like it’s being sliced open and my ribs flayed out.
I knew I was falling hard for her, but I let myself because I figured she was feeling the same.
But after what she did, after how she lied about being pregnant with my kid, there’s no way she could feel anything close to what I feel for her.
I drink until I no longer think of Riley, or at the very least, the thoughts of her that do creep in leave me feeling numb rather than broken. By that time, the bottle is empty, the room is spinning, and I’m holding on to the edge of the bar just to stay upright.
I don’t remember paying my tab or even leaving the bar. But somehow, I find myself behind the wheel of my Aston and speeding back toward Washington Heights. It’s a miracle I don’t wrap my car around a lamppost, though maybe it would have been better if I had.
The house is dark when I let myself in, but I don’t bother being quiet.
The door slams behind me, and I make sure to stomp my feet on every step as I head upstairs, walking straight past my room.
The thought of walking in there and seeing Riley’s things, smelling her perfume on the sheets, makes me want to throw up all the alcohol that is sitting heavy in my stomach. So, I make for Ronan’s office instead, kicking the door open and collapsing onto the leather couch.
I groan as the room starts to spin, so I throw an arm over my face and try not to focus on the sloshing of my stomach.
If I was smarter, I would have picked up something to eat on the way home.
It seems I am capable of nothing but bad decisions these days.
I’m not sure how long I lie there before the door creaks open again, and I lift my arm up enough to notice the outline of Ronan standing in the doorway.
“What the actualfuckare you doing?” Ronan’s voice cuts through the dark, followed by the click of the light switch.
The room floods with light, and I curse through my teeth as I try to shield my eyes.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“It’s half past two in the damn morning. Ciara’s asleep, and this isn’t your fucking house.”
I groan as I push myself up into a seated position, though my head instantly swims, and I have to lean against the back of the couch as I’m hit with the sudden urge to vomit.
“You asked us to stay here, remember? But if it’s that much of a hassle, I’ll go back to my place.”
