Fourth Down
Page 23
Ten drinks was more accurate. Or maybe more, I lost count. Our buddy, Ford, was the bartender at the pub we frequented. Josh gave Ford the short story of what was going on, and even though Ford wasn’t around for my epic meltdown after Lindsay left, he knew enough to keep the shots coming.
Somehow I wound up back in my bed before the sun had set and woke up the next morning with a hell of a hangover. I hadn’t been that drunk in a very long time. Lying in bed trying not to puke I looked out the window of the master bedroom at the awesome lake view and let myself think about it. Just for now, and then I would shut it down and get on with my life.
My house had become my sanctuary. The place where I could go to get away. Sometimes I found comfort in the memories that lived here, but today it was too fucking hard to be here. When I planned this house, it was with her in mind. On her last night in town I had brought her here and showed her where we would make breakfast together, where we would lounge on the couch on a rainy Sunday, where we would sit on the porch and watch our kids play in the grass, where we would watch the sun set over the lake.
She was gone, but I had built the house anyway. I don’t know why. It just seemed like there wasn’t any other option. Even if she was gone, her presence was still here. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I forced myself out of bed and into the shower.
Determined not to let her get to me like this, I threw myself into work for the rest of the week. Some hotshot Hollywood actor had commissioned me to customize his new speedboat, and he would be in town in less than two weeks to see the progress. Working on the tight deadline, coupled with Josh and Ford keeping a steady supply of alcohol in my system after work, kept me from dwelling too much on Lindsay’s presence for the rest of the week.