Christ, what am I doing?
I step away from the bottle. I stumble toward my couch and sit down, frantically searching for my phone in my pocket as I go. I swipe and scroll to find Roger’s contact. Each ring feels distant. Too distant for comfort, but I’m scared of what I might do if I hang up.
“Hey, man,” Roger finally answers. “What’s up?”
“Rog,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’m having a bad day.”
There’s a short pause. “How bad?” he asks.
“Bad.”
“Are you at your apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“All right,” he says. “Sit tight. I’ll be right there.”
He hangs up. I drop my phone onto the coffee table and sit back, but it only makes me remember where I am. I’m on my couch, the place Melanie and I made love for the first time in months. She came here, freezing and snow-covered, her cheeks adorably flush. She kissed me. I kissed her back. We came together right here on this spot and — fucking hell — I could really use that drink.
Come on, Roger.
There’s a knock on the door, loud and urgent. He couldn’t possibly be here by now...
“It’s open!” I shout, not caring who it is.
The door opens. I turn to look, blinking in surprise at Roger. He stands there, clad in a skin-tight, black latex suit from neck-to-toe. The hood is off, revealing a head of dark, disheveled hair and a thick layer of sweat coated on his forehead.
“So, what’s happening?” he asks.
“I messed up, man,” I say.
He glances around, instantly noticing the bottle on the counter. “I see that.” I say nothing as he steps toward it and picks it up. “The seal isn’t broken,” he says.
“I didn’t drink it,” I say. “I just... bought it.”
“Because you wanted to,” he says, not a question.
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
He breaks the seal, easily twisting the cap off with his gloved palm. My chest lurches as he takes the bottle with him toward the sink and turns it upside down. He leaves the bottle sticking up out of the drain and comes back over to me.
“Thanks,” I say.
Roger pushes the coffee table back a bit before sitting down on it. He faces me, our knees touching, purposefully invading my personal bubble. “You drink anything else?” he asks.
“No.”
“Rob.”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I swear.”
He nods. “It’s all right. I believe you. Your eyes are clear, your breath is clean. You smell like a Disney prince, actually. It’s nice.”
I chuckle. “Thanks.”
He places his gloved hands on my knees. “I’m not going to ask you what happened, because I’m sure I already know,” he says. “And I’m not going to say I told you so, either, because that’s dirty and I don’t play that way. But what I am going to do is run across the hall, get dressed, and then you and I will order a bunch of greasy food and shoot the shit. You in?”
“Yeah, I’m in.”
“Spectacular.” He pats my thigh. “I should go check on Val before she runs out of oxygen.”
I blink. “Yeah. Go do that.”
He stands up quickly. “Back in two shakes.”
As the door closes behind him, that crushing loneliness returns. It’s not as smothering now that the temptation is gone. I glance over my shoulder at the sink. The butt of the empty bottle sticks up out of the drain. I exhale with relief.
Seven months. I nearly threw it all away in one moment of weakness. Luckily, all it takes is one moment of strength to turn it all around. And then another one. And another one.
I thought, eventually, one of those moments would lead to me winning Melanie back, but maybe that was the problem. It was never about winning in the first place. I made it a competition, and I lost.
But I’m not out yet.
I’ll take a few days to regroup. I’ll give her a few days to calm down.
Then I’m getting my wife back again.
Thirty-Seven
Melanie
“It was Robbie?” Nora asks.
I sit back on the couch in Lance’s living room. “Yep,” I say, hugging a throw pillow. “The whole time. The roses. The late-night messages.” I sigh. “He lied to me. Surprise, surprise.”
Nora shakes her head in disbelief beside me. Trix sits on the armchair next to us with Layla the dalmatian curled up at her feet.
“I thought it was weird when you said it was Roger,” Nora says. “It didn’t seem like something he’d do...”
“Hey, you know...” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I thought that, too. My gut told me it wasn’t him, but I let myself get caught up in Robbie. Again.” I scoff at myself and lean forward to hold my head in my hands. “Can’t believe I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Trix says. “You’re in love.”
“Same thing.” I sigh as I sit up. “Whatever, it’s over anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Nora asks.
“I mean it’s over,” I say. “I’m done. I broke up with him.”
She deflates. “Already?” she asks.
“And I’m not going back. This time, he went too far.”
“Well...” Trix cants her head. “You did kind of say that before.”
“I know what I said before. Last time, Robbie had a problem. He had a disease that impaired his judgment. That’s not the case this time. He made this decision sober. He knew how this would hurt me, but he did it anyway. That’s not okay.”
“I’m not saying it’s okay, Melanie, but you have to admit that you didn’t give him much choice.”
“I gave him every choice,” I argue. “And, so what? Are we all suddenly supposed to allow all of our old lovers another chance, no matter how much they fucked up just because they want one?” I ask. “If Marcus knocked on the door, would you welcome him with open legs?”
She furrows her brow. “That’s not what I mean. I’m just saying, Robbie didn’t do this to hurt
