Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
“Those ones are. Not the other ones.”
I’m afraid to ask any more questions. Tightening my grasp on the wineglass, I blink at her, wondering what’s worse—me thinking my husband is having an affair or that my child is suffering from a myriad of delusions.
And giving me marriage advice.
Chapter 3
ALEX - 2013
Mikey’s name and number flash across my phone screen. I want to let it go to voice mail, but I know my best friend. He’s relentless and will keep calling. If I don’t answer, he’ll show up here to make sure I’m not drunk, dead, or heading in either of those directions.
I swipe my dirty thumb across the screen. “Hey.” I feign a casual tone. “What’s up?”
“Headin’ to the bar for a burger, maybe throw some darts. Want me to swing by and pick you up?”
Leaning against my workbench, I drag the back of my hand across my forehead and glance over at Brianna, who’s perched on the edge of my workbench. The hem of her white gauzy dress clings to her midthigh. She slowly and deliberately crosses her long legs and smiles at me, playfully swinging her bare feet. Shiny red polish flashes at the tips of her toes.
I’m not going anywhere.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Thanks, but not tonight. I’m in the middle of a project and I don’t want to stop.” My gaze swerves to the untouched heap of scrap metal, PVC pipe, gray tarp, and old vacuum hoses on the barn floor. We’ve been staring at it for five hours and still have no idea what the hell I’m going to make with it.
“C’mon, Fox. We’ll shoot the shit. Blow off some steam.” He pauses, concern lacing his voice. “A change of scenery will be good for ya.”
“Yeah… I’m good, bro, really. I gotta work when I’m feeling it. I don’t wanna lose momentum.”
So far, the only momentum I have today is working on a good buzz. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“I could come hang with you,” he offers, not giving up. “I’ll bring pizza. None of that pineapple shit you like, though.”
My eyes close for a long moment as I stifle a deep exhale. “Nah, you’ll just distract me. You know you can’t sit still and be quiet for shit.” I push a laugh through the tight walls of my chest. Lying to the people you love hurts.
“You sure? I don’t want—”
“I’m sure.” I already know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it. “I’ll catch up with you in a few days when this is done.”
He sighs into the phone. “Alright, man. Call me if you need me.” Another long pause hangs between us, thick and murky as fog. “Take it easy,” he finally says.
“You too.”
I end the call and finish my beer with a gulp before lining it up with the four bottles I’ve already downed in the past hour.
“You should’ve gone with him,” she says softly.
Grabbing another bottle, I slam the cap off on the edge of my bench and restart my playlist. “God Only Knows” filters through the Bluetooth speakers from the dim corners of the barn.
“It’s our anniversary,” I remind her. “I’m not going anywhere. And we have to make something out of this mess you talked me into dragging home.”
Tilting the bottle to my lips, I circle the pile of junk again, eyeing it like prey, waiting for my muse to come out of the muddled shadows of my brain and throw me a bone.
Creative block sucks balls.
“Why aren’t you helping me?” I ask her. “You always used to. You’re just gonna sit there and look pretty now?”
I used to describe all my ideas to her right here in the barn until the wee hours of the night. She’d sit exactly where she is now, excited and animated, embellishing my visions as she sketched them in that old dusty notebook.
“You can come up with your own ideas, Fox. You don’t need me for that.”
The lyrics of the song weave through me, resurrecting memories—wanted and unwanted—sucking me back in time like not a day has passed. Our favorite songs. The soundtrack to all our memories. Brianna’s soft laughter echoing in my ear, her lips warm against my cheek, the curves of her body pressed perfectly against mine, swaying to this playlist that’ll play on repeat tonight.
She hasn’t danced with me in a long time.
Life sucks.
I take another drink.
A slice of glittering sunlight suddenly appears on the dusty floor and I turn toward the double doors. The cold, damp bottle almost slips from my grip when I see a little girl standing in the doorway. At first glance, I’d swear a garden gnome came to life. She is staring at me with huge eyes, freckled pale skin, and a big, pointy green hat flopped on top of her long, red hair.