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I could have easily indulged in the entire bottle.
Then, texting Joe.
Professional - or not.
Just to check up on him.
Make another appointment.
Or… I could have tracked down Steven…
My head hit the pillow.
My eyes shut.
And I slept.
Luckily without dreaming of Joe.
The next morningI reached across the bed and felt nothing.
My head popped up as fast as my eyes popped open.
When I didn’t see Steven next to me I reached for my phone.
No calls. No texts.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered.
I threw the covers off my body and jumped out of bed and ran across the bedroom.
My heart raced and panic slowly began to seep in.
As I ran out of the bedroom, thinking about who to text or call first, I dug my heels into the floor when I saw an arm draped over the back of the couch.
A gold watch on a wrist.
I knew the watch.
I knew the wrist.
Steven was asleep on the couch.
He let out a growling snore, which was also familiar to me.
On the floor leading to the couch was a trail of items.
I looked to my left and gasped when I saw the apartment door was wide open.
That’s where the trail began.
Which meant Steven came home extremely drunk.
His key dangling from the door.
The door wide open.
His cellphone on the floor just inside the apartment.
