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I walked the puppy around and when I was in danger of falling asleep mid-stride—I picked her up and took her back home.
The smell of booze and—“Oh, no.” He’d gotten sick.
I rushed Hayley to my room and shut the door.
Then I hurried to where Trey was lying on the floor.
Still breathing.
Thank goodness.
I checked him over, and he seemed otherwise okay.
The dog whined the whole time I was cleaning up after the passed out hockey star on the floor.
“I swore I’d never do this,” I muttered to myself. I felt hot tears burn behind my eyes. “I promised myself.”
I shook my head and continued chastising my poor choices. “Never, as in ever.” I looked up as though I had a straight line to Heaven. “And I promised you—” my voice hitched, “I promised you I’d never do this. Not for anyone. And now look at me.”
The tears came hard, and they came heavy. “I’m so sorry. If you were here I’d be embarrassed at the huge disappointment I turned out to be.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my arm. My throat dried out and constricted as I sobbed.
“Maybe it’s better you’re not here to see me like this.”
My heart broke in half, but I continued cleaning up after my blitzed out husband.
When I was finished cleaning around him, I started cleaning him.
I leaned over Trey and caught a strong whiff of perfume.
A heavy, flowery, musky scent.
My stomach sank.
And I started to feel ill.
A ringing in my ears deafened me.
I looked down at Trey’s shirt and realized it was buttoned incorrectly.
Off by one.
On each notch.
He’d definitely not started the evening out like that.
Nope.
The image of him from hours ago, standing in my doorway, looking hot as heck was burned into my mind.
So, sometime between leaving my doorway, and returning to my floor—he’d gotten himself covered in perfume.
And his shirt had been unbuttoned.
And rebuttoned.
Yeah.
