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Shit had hit the fan months before Meredith died, and it showed in my work. It showed in my attitude for life. It showed in the way I parented my kid, and the way I loved—or didn’t love—my wife.
I’d been a mess for a long time, I just thought no one noticed.
“Look,” he sighed, pulling me from my thoughts. “You know I like you, but I can’t keep paying you to never work. I put Nina on the biggest account we’ve ever had because you’re too busy off in damn la la land.” I squeezed my eyes shut.
Nina was the youngest person in our marketing department. She was fresh out of college. This was her first job, and she was fucking amazing.
The customers loved her. Trends moved fast online, but she was always ahead of the curve. She’d brought in more clients in her first year of being there than I had in the last five years.
It was depressing as shit.
Before her, I was the best in the department. I was well on my way to being promoted to director. Then the big fight happened, and everything I’d ever cared about just didn’t seem important anymore.
“You’ll really fire me?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t have a choice.”
That was such bullshit. He did have a choice. He just wanted to make the easier one.
“What about Emma? You’ll fire me knowing I have to take care of her?” I wasn’t above using my daughter to manipulate him into keeping my job.
“She’s not my responsibility,” he said flatly.
I hated him. Truly fucking hated him.
I looked over my shoulder, finding Emma in her princess nightgown, curled up on the couch, her pink unicorn tucked under her arm. She looked so much like Meredith it made my chest ache.
“Can I work remotely again?” I muttered, closing my eyes.
I tried to swallow past the tightness in my chest, at the building emotions burning the back of my nose.
I hated that he was right.
Emma wasn’t his responsibility. She was mine, and I needed to be the best father I could be to her. But it was hard.
I didn’t have anyone to talk to about these fucked up feelings I had. I was mourning Meredith, but hating her even more. It was hard to get past everything that had been said between us. Everything she’d done.
So, when Emma was asleep, I drank myself stupid. And in the mornings, like today, I was too hungover to care about anything other than going to work so I could sit in my dark, quiet office.
“You can today,” he said. “But I’m serious, Eli. You need to get your shit together.”
With that, he hung up.
I threw my phone onto the couch and braced my hands on the back of it, letting my head fall forward.
Why did she have to leave me with this mess?
Why did she leave that night? Where the fuck was she going?
No, I knew where she was going.
She was going to him—whoever he was.
“Daddy.” I lifted my head and stared at my daughter. “Hungry.” She rubbed her belly and pretended to take a bite of her unicorn. She let out a howl of laughter, rolling around on the couch like it was the funniest thing in the world.
A small smile cracked my lips, and I shook my head.
“Wanna go see Grammy?” I asked, and her head popped up.
