Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,87
It had nothing to do with my lungs, and everything to do with my heart.
It was completely broken, shattered into a million pieces on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.
31
Shepherd
I slept in my condo downstairs and when I came back in the morning, I knew she was gone. She hadn’t just gone to work. Half her stuff was missing and there was no sign that she’d slept here last night.
A glint of light on the bed caught my attention. Her engagement ring—fake though it was—sat on top of the rumpled covers, as if she’d carelessly tossed it aside. I picked it up, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. It was over. She was gone.
Fuck.
I felt like shit. I put the ring in the top drawer of my dresser and went out to the kitchen. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, but I poured myself a glass of whiskey. And then I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I took the day off.
It wasn’t just to avoid Everly, although I was man enough to admit that was part of it. But I doubted she’d gone to work today anyway. She was probably going to quit. I tried to tell myself it was for the best. I’d unceremoniously kicked her out last night. I certainly didn’t expect her to still work for me.
But really, I stayed home so I could do nothing but get royally fucking drunk.
I was feeling too many things—a confusing jumble of emotions. I’d been up half the night, wrestling with what to do. Had I made a mistake? Should I have listened to her? I was sick of second-guessing myself. That wasn’t me. I was firm. Decisive. I never let feelings get in the way.
Now I was drowning in feelings. So I’d drown those fuckers in whiskey.
Hours later—I was too trashed to have any concept of time—Dad peeked into my office. My head was down on my desk, the bottle near my elbow.
“Shepherd? Are you okay? Why aren’t you at work?”
I lifted my head and slowly blinked. “Day off.”
“What happened?”
Sitting up, I raked my hands through my already-messy hair and poured more whiskey. “Everly wanted me to donate my sperm.”
“Excuse me?”
“She had a contract and everything. For her sister.”
He pulled the glass away from me before I could pick it up and take a drink. “Shep, I’m not following.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s just like the rest of them.” I leaned forward, intending to put my forearm on the desk, but it slipped off the edge. I swayed in my seat, but managed to recover. “I thought she was different, but she’s not.”
He regarded me through narrowed eyes for a moment. “Have you eaten recently?”
“No. Food soaks up the alcohol.”
“Exactly.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, Shep. Stay here. I’ll be back.”
“Don’t bother.” The room kept spinning, so I laid my head on the desk again. “I’m fine.”
I wasn’t sure if he answered. The next time I opened my eyes, he was gone. Good. I didn’t want his pity.
But when I reached for more whiskey, it was gone.
“Shepherd?”
I cracked an eye open. Had the room stopped spinning yet?
“Hey, Shep.” Another voice. Who was here?
Where was I?
Sucking in a deep breath, I sat up. Blinked my dry eyes open. I was still at my desk. I must have fallen asleep—or passed out—with my head on my arm. I had a red mark on my forearm and probably a matching one on my face.
I was still too drunk to give a shit.
The people in the room came into focus. Dad. Hadn’t I told him to leave me alone? I was mad at him for something. Right—he’d taken my whiskey. I was about to ask him where he’d put it, when I realized who else was here.
Ethan and Grant stood next to my dad. They both looked like they’d just gotten off work, wearing similar button-down shirts and slacks. Grant had his arms crossed and Ethan stood with his hands in his pockets.
“He’s been in here all day,” Dad said.
“Thanks for letting us know,” Ethan said.
“I’ll get dinner going,” Grant said. “Need help moving him?”
“You don’t move to need me,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” Ethan’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Dad and I can handle it. But I think we should feed him first anyway.”
“Not hungry. I’m fine.”
Ethan chuckled. “You’re not fine, you’re drunk off your ass. I’d call Everly but I have a feeling she’s the reason you’re shitfaced right now.”