My heart drops as I stare at the screen. I only have a ten percent chance of not drinking again. Those oddssuck.
Wheldon
What helps the most, beyond group meetings, is having someone in your life. You got good family, or a girlfriend/boyfriend/whatever?
Evie’s face swims into my consciousness, together with Val’s.
Me
Yeah.
Wheldon
Then you got this, brother. You’re going to get through it. See you at group?
Me
Yeah. Thanks, man.
I sink back in my chair, that abysmal success rate pressing on my chest.
Ten fucking percent. If I’m lucky.
The door to my penthouse opens, and I smile when I see Val walking in, dance bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins.
Goddammit.
I love when he says that to me. I just hate the way it makes me blush like a fucking teenage girl.
“Hey yourself,” I smile. I stand as he walks over, dropping his bag along the way before wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me, and I melt a little.
“How was today?”
“Waybetter now,” I grin. “How was rehearsal?”
“Stalin was in excellent spirits today. I was only banished to the gulag twice and faced one firing squad.”
I chuckle. I’ve met Madame Kuzmina a handful of times. The woman isterrifying.
Val steps back, smiling as his gaze drags over me.
“What?” I mumble.
“You lookgood. And not just in anI want to fuck youway. I mean you legit look a lot healthier. Your color is coming back.”
“Ifeelbetter. Just…” I glance around.
“Feeling trapped?”
That's one word for it. I haven’t left the apartment in ten days.
“That and…antsy. Too full of energy. I haven’t worked out or run or anything in almost two weeks.”
Val’s lips curl. “Well… What are you doing now?”
Fuck. Part of why I haven’t left the house in ten days is because I’m not sure Itrust myselfnot step into the first liquor store or bar that I see.
