I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up, that I didn’t care what the hell Anna did or didn’t do, but she was my mom, and I couldn’t say that to her. Plus, acknowledging the fuck-fest that was my life was something I didn’t want to do at the moment. Numbness was all I wanted. I raised my glass in answer. I hear you and I understand, so stop talking.
She left the room without another word. Dad refilled my scotch while he and Liam glanced at each other. They were making go-ahead motions, like they were volunteering each other for a task none of them wanted.
Face mournful, like someone had died, Liam finally said, “Sorry, man.”
I waited for an add-on to his comment, something insulting like, I knew you weren’t good enough for her, or Guess I won the pool on that one, or Mind if I date her, now that you’re through? That last thought made my fingers tighten so hard around my glass, I was positive it was going to shatter. If anyone fucking touched my wife, I would kill them—brother or not.
“That it? No snarky joke? No witty comment? Not even a putdown to go with it?”
With my tone, which was no longer dull and lifeless, I thought Liam might get ruffled, but he only shook his head. “No, just…sorry.”
My throat constricted so tight I could feel it in the back of my skull. As I nodded at him, I wished he’d made some jackass comment. His sincerity was painful.
It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. None of this matters.
Wanting to be alone, I yanked the scotch away from Dad and trounced back to my room. Once I was inside, I slammed the door shut and started taking long pulls directly from the bottle. The room still smelled like Anna, and her things were everywhere—a shirt here, a bra there. Tiny reminders of my monumental loss. Or her loss. She was the one throwing in the towel and giving up. She was the quitter here, not me.
I ripped down everything of hers and the girls that I could find and shoved it all under the bed, where it couldn’t haunt me. Out of sight, out of mind. Gibson’s doll was the last thing I put away. Before I shoved it into the darkness, I studied its opaque eyes. They were as lifeless as I felt.
As the night wore on and my bottle of alcohol dwindled, the room began to spin. Any second now I’d be puking or passing out. Either end was fine with me, so long as I could stop thinking.
While I studied the swirling ceiling and concentrated on my breathing, my cell phone rang. When I saw Chelsey’s name displayed on the screen, I considered letting it go to voicemail. Curiosity, or maybe alcohol, compelled me to pick it up though. “What?” I gruffed.
“Hey…how are you doing?” Chelsey’s voice was soft, sweet…and grating.
“My wife walked out on me, how the fuck do you think I’m doing?”
She sighed. “You’re not mad that I took her in, are you? Because she didn’t have anywhere else to go…except maybe Liam’s, and I thought you’d like it better if I took her than him.”
My hand clenched around my phone. No, I’d never get through the night thinking Liam was the one comforting Anna. If she even needed comforting. “No, I’m not mad. I’m not anything. Except drunk. That, I definitely am. In spades.” After Chelsey sighed again, I quietly asked, “How is…? How are my kids?”
Chelsey seemed to know what I’d originally meant to ask, and her answer covered a lot of ground. “Everyone is doing okay. Not great, but okay.”
I made a grunting noise into the phone. Anna was “okay” with leaving me. Awesome.
Chelsey cleared her throat. “Look, Griffin, I wanted to let you know…Anna booked a flight for tomorrow morning, and I’m taking her and the girls to the airport. If you want to see her…that’s your last chance.”
In answer, I hung up the phone. She abandoned me. Fuck if I was going to see her off.
Chapter 20
Now What?
I’m not sure what time I passed out, but it was late afternoon when I woke up. My head throbbed, but that was nothing compared to the ripping sensation going on in my chest. She was gone. They were all gone. They were probably back in Seattle by now. Maybe they’d gone to Kellan’s? It made sense that Anna would have called Kiera for help. But she could have just as easily called Jenny or Rachel, or one of her friends from Hooters. She could be anywhere. The only thing I knew for certain was that she was no longer here. I was alone.
I considered texting her. It was something we did a lot whenever I was touring without her. I’d text her, Good morning, sweet ass, I woke up with a boner thinking about you. She’d text me back, Good morning, hot stuff, if you were here, I’d take care of that for you. Then she’d go on to describe exactly what she’d do to me.
More often than not, her words would get me all hot and bothered, and I’d send her a picture of me jacking off. Sometimes video. That would get her all worked up, and we’d share a moment, even though we were thousands of miles apart. I was getting a chubby just thinking about the steamy things we used to send each other…but things were different now, and if I sexted her today, she wouldn’t respond. I was sure of it. It was just one more thing in a long list of things that I’d never get to do again.