Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I scoff. “I don’t think the job requires you to match my sleep schedule, Aubrey.” I motion toward the moonlit lake and surrounding cluster of trees immediately outside the large windows across the room. “Not here, especially, when there’s nothing around for miles.”
Aubrey shakes her head. “I’m getting paid to do this job, so I’m going to do it to the best of my abilities.” She raises an index finger. “Speaking of which, I’d better do a quick sweep of the house before we head to bed for the night.”
“A sweep of the house?”
“For alcohol. In case someone who stayed here left something behind.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t imagine that’s necessary.”
Aubrey, looking around, ignores my comment. “I’ll start in the kitchen, unless you’d prefer me to start in your bedroom, so you can get in there now.”
I release a loud exhale. “Kitchen is fine.”
“Awesome.” She turns on her heel and strides into the adjacent kitchen, leaving me gawking involuntarily at the swishing movement of her hot little ass for a moment, until, finally, I pull myself together enough to amble into the kitchen after her.
When I enter the room, Aubrey is already bent over and peeking into a low cabinet, so I lean my ass against the kitchen counter and watch the show.
“You didn’t happen to have an alcoholic beverage at the airport or on the plane today, did you?” she asks, her gaze trained on her next opened cupboard. “Because the email I got explaining my job duties said you’ll need to co-sign onto today’s certification only, under oath, due to the hours you spent alone and unattended during your travels.” She bends over again, giving me another lovely view of her ass.
“On my honor, I’ve had nothing but coffee and water all day long.”
Aubrey straightens up from the latest cabinet she’s been inspecting to shoot me a pointed look that says, Your honor means nothing to me, motherfucker.
I chuckle. “Do you want me to swear it on something sacred to me?” With a dramatic hand to my heart, I declare, “Aubrey Capshaw, I swear to you and the god of rehab I’ve stayed sober all day. I swear it on my love for my mother, sister, and bandmates, and on every dime in my bank account.”
Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Your money is ‘sacred’ to you? Nice, C-Bomb.”
It’s the first time she’s addressed me that way, since she made the switch to Caleb at her house. But it seems fair in this context. Sassy and teasing, even. Is the ice thawing a bit? “The money part was a joke,” I say with a smirk. “Although it certainly doesn’t suck to have money.”
Aubrey pulls an adorable face. One that says, I wouldn’t know. But she doesn’t say a word before moving on to the next cabinet.
“I realize you’re going to have to take a small leap of faith today,” I say to her bent-over backside. “But after today, I promise you’ll quickly find out I’m sincerely determined to stick with the program. It’s in my best interest to do that, for a variety of reasons.”
Aubrey stops what she’s doing and flashes me an earnest look. “I’m proud of you for working to get sober. I know from watching Claudia it’s a difficult thing to do.”
“I didn’t do it of my own free will. I had an expensive meltdown at a hotel in New York the night my mother died, and a court ordered me to go to rehab to avoid jailtime. And then, the insurance company that insures our tours piggy-backed on the court’s decision, so now I have to stick with my program, if I want my band to be insurable for tours again.”
Aubrey shrugs, looking unfazed. “Whatever got you here, you’re still the one doing the work. As far as I’m concerned, the praise is still well deserved.”
“The crazy thing is I don’t even need a formal program to quit drinking. I’ve quit before, whenever I’ve wanted to. Just to prove I could.”
“But you always started drinking again?”
“Yeah, whenever I felt like I’d proven my point to myself.”
“Or maybe you’ve actually needed a program, without realizing it.”
I pull a face. “No, before now, my goal was never to stop drinking, forever.”
“Is that your goal now: to stop drinking forever?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. Begrudgingly. “I guess it is.”
Before now, I hadn’t consciously formulated a goal for my sobriety, and I certainly hadn’t thought the word “forever.” But now that we’re having this conversation, I’m realizing there’s no other path forward for me, assuming I win custody of Raine.
Whenever I drink or smoke weed, I wind up giving myself permission to do whatever the fuck I want, without a shred of accountability. And that’s obviously not going to work in my new role as a father. I’ve never laid a finger on anyone I care about when drunk or high. Never would. So, thankfully, in that way, I’m nothing like my father. But I definitely let some major guardrails down, whenever my brain is in a fog, and that’s simply not going to be an option anymore, in my new life as a father.