“Did you drink?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Did you have more than one?” We both knew he wasn’t a lightweight. It would have taken half a dozen doubles to get him that drunk.
“Well yeah, but—”
“You chose to drink,” I said, looking him in the eye, refusing to back down. “Not one, not two, but countless drinks. And that’s your choice. If you’re not ready to get sober, you’re not ready. But don’t pretend, for my sake, you are. That’s not fair to either one of us.”
“I can’t have this conversation in your hallway, Codie. Come on, let me in.”
I could have slammed the door in his face, but I knew he wouldn’t go quietly and I couldn’t bring myself to call the cops to chase him away.
“Fine, you have five minutes.” I pulled my short black robe tighter, wishing he wasn’t so damn hard to resist.
His gaze travelled up and down my body before finally settling on my face. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
“Flattery won’t work.” But not melting like butter under his heated gaze gave new meaning to the word challenge.
He stepped inside when I backed up, closing the door behind him.
Mav was totally invading my personal space, but I couldn’t find my voice to call him out.
He curled his hand around my cheek, touching his forehead to mine and I closed my eyes, trying to find the strength to push him away. I would always identify as an addict, but I never expected to feel this addicted to another person again.
“I love you,” he whispered. “So damn much. I would never hurt you.”
I pressed my palms into his chest, trying to keep some distance between us, for the sake of my sanity. “This isn’t about you hurting me. It’s about you hurting yourself, and the fact I love you too much to stand by and watch it.”
I vowed to myself years ago I would never love another addict. Or at least not a man in the throes of his addiction. And I honored the promises I made to myself above all else. They mattered. And I mattered. It took years of therapy for me to finally believe that.
“Listen to me.” He sunk his hand into my hair, splaying his hand across the back of my head. “I was at a bar, at Chaz’s birthday party. I was drinking Coke all night, I swear to you.”
“Notallnight.”
“Well no, but…” He sighed, his eyes drifting to my lips. “I was making small talk with a waitress at the bar, just about music, and I excused myself to use the restroom. When I returned, she refreshed my drink.”
I sucked in a breath as I imagined the scene playing out before me. Even if Mav hadn’t asked for that drink, he’d still downed it, followed by another and another, judging by his condition. It would be too easy to give him a free pass this one time, but I knew I’d be on edge worrying about him drinking every time he went out with friends, and I couldn’t do that to myself.
“As soon as I took a sip, I realized it wasn’t just Coke. I called her out and she told me she’d read somewhere that Jack and Coke was my drink of choice. I don’t have to tell you, Codie, that taste…” His intake of breath was more of a shudder when he said, “It’s irresistible. If I don’t have it, I can live without it, buttastingit…” He shook his head. “I’m not strong enough to resist. Yet. But I hope I will be someday.”
“Alcoholics like us can’t taste it, Mav. We can’t test ourselves that way. It’s not worth it. Whether you have one day of sobriety under your belt or ten years, starting all over from square one is hard.”
He nodded. “I know. I realized that when I woke up this morning and the urge to drink was as strong as it had been the first day.”
“Did you go to a meeting?”
“Yeah, and I talked about what happened. It helped.”
“Good.” I took a step back, needing a little breathing room. “Just keep going to meetings. Every day. Talk to Trey as often as you need to. He agreed to be your sponsor because he wants to help you through this, so don’t ever feel like you’re burdening him. You’re not. Everyone who’s ever been a sponsor takes the commitment seriously.”
“I think it’s awesome that you sponsor other people now.” His smile was faint when he said, “You’re incredible.”
I shrugged. “Just try to help other people the way my sponsors helped me. Paying it forward.”
He reached for my hand, and I let him hold it. “Please say you forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I was disappointed that he’d fallen off the wagon but I’d learned a long time ago I couldn’t personalize another person’s alcoholism or addiction. That was their issue, not mine. “You didn’t do anything to me, Mav. You did it to yourself.”
