I don’t know what to do next. My mind races in a million different directions, none of them making sense. All I can think about is him and her.
How?
Why?
I push myself off the floor, my legs shaky as I make my way to the pantry. My hands and arms shake as I reach for the vodka. I grasp the bottle as if it’s the last thing on earth. Without thinking, I twist the cap off and drink a gulp down. The sharp burning sensation I usually feel when taking a shot never comes. Instead, the burning in my chest from all the betrayal eases up.
For a moment, I feel like I can breathe again. My head is still foggy from all the tears and emotions. I know this is a bad idea but getting drunk sounds like the right thing to do. The thing I need to cure myself. At least for right now. I know it will only numb my pain. But at this moment, the vodka is the only thing keeping me from killing those fuckers.
I grip the vodka bottle tighter and head back into the living room. I grab my phone, taking pictures of the text messages. Because who knows what Zayn will do? He might destroy these papers and deny it like the coward he is.
After I get all the pictures I need, I email them to my personal email and my business email. You can never be too careful. I guess that’s one lesson I’m being taught right now.
My phone dings and for once I’m not jolted in anxiety from the sound of the tone.
Rya: Hey! Ezra and I are going to the Mountain Pub for dinner and drinks with some friends. Do you want to come?
Do I want to come?
Hell yeah, I want to come. I’m not going to sit here and drown myself in misery.
Fuck no.
Not tonight.
I step into the shower, the sound of the water pouring down around me almost drowning out the fog in my head. The coolness of the water hits my skin, relieving the heat that is pulsing through me. I close my eyes, letting the water wash away the anger, the hurt, and the betrayal. At least for now.
After the shower, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes red but dark. I stopped drinking because, if I’m meeting Rya for drinks, I can’t drive drunk. I need to be able to drive there.
I quickly throw on some clothes and a bit of mascara, toss my hair into a high bun, and call it good.
I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the papers I laid across the table. I’m facing the doorway that Zay will walk through. If he thinks I’m still staying at Ezra and Rya’s, he’ll be home soon because he knows he’s coming home to an empty house. Not a house with me in it.
Half an hour later, the man of the fucking hour walks through the door. He halts his steps as soon as he sees me. Shock fills his face, almost as if he’s seeing a ghost.
“Hey, honey,” I say in a sweet voice. “How was work?”
He takes an unsteady step and gazes over the table. “What’s all this?”
I smile wide. Wider than I’ve ever smiled before. “You tell me.”
I twist the cap off the vodka bottle, take a drink, and set it down hard, making Zayn jolt from the loud boom.
“You’re drinking?” he asks, stepping closer to the table, ignoring what’s on the table.
The smell of oil, grease, and sweat lingers in the air, making me sick to my stomach. Or is it the sight of this pig making me sick?
“What game are you playing now?” he asks, staring at me and not at what’s on the fucking table.
“Your game. Honey.” I stand up, grab one of the papers, and shove it to his chest. “Stop being a fucking pussy and read it,” I say sternly.
His eyes widen, taken aback at my anger, until he looks down at the paper. His face goes pale, his eyes widening in shock as his lips press into a tight line, the realization of being caught slowly sinking in.
“Where did you get these?” he asks.
“That’s all you have to fucking say?”
I reach for another paper, my hands trembling as I shove it into his chest. The sharp sting of betrayal is back again as I grab another and shove it in his chest once more.
