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I poke my finger through the keyring on the dark glass of the bar and slowly draw circles, listening to the jangling of keys as they swirl around.
It’s a light sound. Joyful, hopeful.
I draw my finger back and slam my flattened palm over the top of the bundle, cursing as the metal bites into my skin.
I’m living in the house of our dreams. Alone. I spent that first night after Sophie left, alone, staring at the window in the master bedroom. The window we christened, knowing the house would be ours one day.
Because destiny said so.
I nod my thanks at the bartender and throw back the fresh whiskey in one go, screwing my eyes up as it makes them water.
Screw destiny. Destiny’s a little bitch that bites you on the ass when you’re distracted.
I scowl at the keys. I shouldn’t be in a bar after work, drinking alone. I should be in my new house, in bed with my pregnant fiancée.
The glass swirls in front of my eyes, along with the five friends it has lined up alongside it. Or is it six?
I look away in disgust, my head spinning as I scan the half empty bar. I could be drinking my sorrows in my yard with Tanner now that we live two streets apart. The only reason he isn’t here now is because he thought I was going straight home tonight. He knows a desperate bastard when he sees one. No doubt he’ll be at my door at six AM again tomorrow, claiming he needs a workout buddy to keep him accountable.
The only thing being accounted for is that I haven’t decided to hang myself from the balcony.
But that would be stupid. It might bring the house value down. And seeing as I made a will after asking Sophie to marry me, leaving everything I own to her, it’s the last thing I want.
I already cheapened our relationship when I admitted I let Alicia wet my dick with her mouth. I’m not going to cheapen this. Sophie deserves everything and more.
More than I can offer.
“Another,” I grunt at the bartender, sliding the empty glass toward him. I overestimate and it shoots off the back of the bar, smashing loudly on the floor.
“I’ll pay,” I grumble.
But he shoots me a warning look and shakes his head.
“Fine,” I mutter, grabbing a few notes from my wallet and dropping them onto the bar. “For the drinks and the glass.”
I stumble to the side as I turn, holding one hand up in apology to the guy next to me that I knock into.
He gives me a curt nod, and I stagger out of the bar and into the night air.
My eyes drop to my wallet as I’m about to fold it and put it away, but the picture inside stops me.
“Fuck.” I collapse back against the wall of the bar, allowing the rough surface of the bricks to scrape through my jacket and bite into my skin as I slump against it.
I pull the image out from behind the clear plastic panel and hold it up.
Two perfect white shapes on a black background.
I clasp a hand over my mouth, dropping my chin and blinking through bleary eyes at what my future should have been.
Our babies.
Two little miracles that only last week would move against my hand when I spoke to them as if they recognized my voice.
Two little miracles that are now thousands of miles away in another country.
“She won’t talk to me, either.”
I drag my head up from my chest and squint at the voice. Blood pounds in my temples, and rage simmers through it as I lock eyes with the last person I want to see right now.
