Cue crash out number—I lost count.At that point, I was sinking a bottle of hard liquor a day. But I was no quitter, ready to set a record high to drown out my own afflictions and numb the pain.
Sure, I was a lowlife pig for ever stepping out on my wife, and I was paying for that in the worst way, but I did not embezzle money from my own company.
Why would I bother?
I had to get in touch with Stella, but that shit was impossible. Hence why my drunk brain had thought it was a good idea to go on a stealth mission and ambush her instead.
I had bail conditions, which was another reason I shouldn’t have been there, lurking. But I was sick of sitting in that empty house, alone and scared, all due to my own selfish deeds.
I was desperate to be with my wife.
“STELLA! COME OUT HERE NOW! TALK TO ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, skirting around the garden bed of her father’s house, trying to reach the main windows. However, I clearly didn’t think that through when plants and vegetation began to pull on my flesh.
“Ah! Shit!” I exclaimed, escaping out of the brush and heading for the main doorway, ready to pound on the entrance.
I didn’t quite get that far.
I faltered as the door wrenched open before me. Then, I was subtly pushed back to make room for my father-in-law, who slipped outside and closed that barrier behind him.
He stood tall, glaring stare skating over my form in judgement as he crossed his arms. The stance was clear. Dylan Foster was playing sentinel and guard to my family within.
“Get off my porch, Johnson,” he snapped.
“I need to see her,” I said, speech slurred but determined. “I need to apologise… Explain. It isn’t what she thinks.”
“No? So you didn’t have an ongoing affair with your secretary for seven months?”
I stammered. He didn’t understand.
“Technically, yes. But it wasn’tlike that. She didn’t mean anything. Stella and I… We’re going to get through this.” I tried to push past him, but he was a solid fucking wall.
“It still hasn’t sunk in yet, has it, Felix?” Dylan shook his head, pushing me back a step. “There is nogetting through this…It’s over.”
I couldn’t take it. I wanted to stay in my fantasy land, where I could still claim my wife, and go back to the days when we were happy.
But those words. Those two distinctive words were my complete undoing, and I lost all reason.
It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.
I tried to barge past Dylan. Sure, he was old enough to be my dad, but he still worked out and had the tenacity of a former pro league baseball player. Which meant I wasn’t getting past him easily, if at all.
We tussled for what felt like ten minutes, but probably more aligned with thirty seconds, when a third body catapulted into my side, breaking us apart.
I was sprawled on the front lawn, chest heaving and limbs aching as I took in my son, Eli, standing over me with a tortured expression.
“Leave, Dad.”
Fuck. I didn’t mean for this to happen. How did this get so out of control?
“Eli,” I implored, remorse thickening my tone. “Son, I just—I just want to speak to your mother.”
“No,” he said, fists bunching at his sides. “I don’t want you to.”
I gradually came to a stand, arms open as I pleaded with my eleven-year-old, the gatekeeper and caretaker of our family.
“I’m your father.”
“Since when?” Eli snapped, tears gathering in his eyes as he gave me his truth. “You’re never there for me, for Phoenix, forMum. Where have you been, Dad? Where? Because you haven’t beenoursfor a long time.”
