Page 105 of Just This Once

She’d done me a fucking favor.

And yet I still hated it.

I set the phone down and exhaled slowly, refraining from sending her a snarky message, likeGoodbye, I guessorYou’re welcome.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing through my nose. Then I stood, dressed, and left the hotel as well, glancing back one last time at the floor where we’d had our picnic.

Yeah, I was gonna need help getting over this. Lots of liquid help.

At home,I went straight to the shelves of bourbon in my pool house’s mini kitchen and made myself a double.

I was used to being the one who decided when an affair ended. WhenIwas ready. And I hadn’t been fucking ready yet. This felt as if I’d turned into every woman I’d ever slept with who’d gone clingy and annoying.

Karma was such a nasty bitch, finally serving me a taste of my own medicine. I was not a fan.

I drained the first glass without pausing and poured another.

I honestly wasn’t sure how many I’d had by the time a knock came on my pool house door.

My heart skipped a beat when I glanced over, but Lawson capered inside instead of Hope.

I sank back into the couch cushions where I was camped out, dejected.

“Hey,” the kid greeted cheerfully.

“Mmm, hey.” I set my drink on a side table out of sight so he wouldn’t ask about it. I’d never drunk around him before. When he’d wondered about my impressive display in the mini kitchen, I’d told him all those alcohol bottles had come with the place.

He had no idea how much I liked my bourbon, and I didn’t plan on being the one to clue him in. Lawson was just so fucking innocent. I tried to fake not being the depraved asshole I really was whenever he was around.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice how blitzed and glassy-eyed I’d become.

He plopped down next to me and asked, “Whatcha doing?”

I had one arm draped over the back of the couch, trying to look casual, so I used that hand to lift it in a kind of shrug. “Just chillin’. You?”

“Yep,” he answered, relaxing back on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table before lifting the stub of his half-arm to lay it along the couch as well. “Me too.”

But his one good hand fiddled in his lap nervously as he gazed around the pool house.

When he just sat there like that, looking contemplative and restless at the same time, I let one of the corners of my mouth kick up in amusement. “Something on your mind, little man?”

At the invitation to talk, he turned to me fully, tucking one leg under him to get more comfortable. “After your mom and dad died,” he started, clearly hesitant to ask.

“Yeah?” I asked leadingly, catching myself when I realized I was swaying.

He grimaced, then just said it. “Did you ever feel…guilty? Like whenever anything good happened to you? Or if things were going okay and you were happy? You ever feel like it shouldn’t be so nice without ‘em?”

I exhaled with a sad sigh. “Istillfeel guilty for being happy sometimes.” Which was probably another reason why I was drunk right now. My time with Hope had been…good. Too good.

I hadn’t deserved it.

When I tried to shrug it off, though, I stopped myself, knowing I shouldn’t. It wasn’t a dismissive topic, especially since the kid needed some helpful advice.

“So it never goes away?” he asked, looking worried.

“I wouldn’t say that.” I shifted uncomfortably before turning to face him as well. “It just…gets better. Some days will still be hard, sure. But you’ll learn how to work through them faster and not let ‘em bother you quite as much. It becomes…tolerable.”

Lawson chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before he frowned. “How? How do you just…work through it?”

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