Page 59 of Come Home to Me

“I didn’t hurt her. But she did stumble right out of a shoe. A shoe Sarah found when she came back yesterday.” My memories of last night come back to me. They cut, opening fresh wounds. “God, I was such an asshole, man.” I look at Jason as the weight of what I’ve done falls onto my shoulders and I nearly collapse under the weight.

“Sounds about right.”

“You haven’t heard all of it yet. I told Sarah I slept with Bree.” Hearing the words out in the open brings the gravity of the situation into focus. Last night I thought Sarah would be better off if she could go back to Ohio and continue rebuilding her relationship with her family. Today, I can’t imagine my life without her. Dread sits heavy in my gut.

Jason cocks his head as if he’s not sure he heard me correctly. “You did what?! Jesus, Frank.”

“I thought she’d be better off if she didn’t have to deal with me…” I trail off as I realize how ridiculous I sound. “I was still partially drunk and a whole lot hungover. I wasn’t thinking. I really fucked up.”

“You realize that’s not an excuse, right? You can’t hide behind the alcohol because you’re the one who chose to get drunk. And yes, you really fucked up. You two were good together. And you know it, too. She was worth jeopardizing your job over, or you wouldn’t have done it.” He glares at me. “And the only excuse you have for something that stupid is that you weren’t thinking? Dude. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“She really was worth jeopardizing my career over.” I smile, thinking about the way she makes me laugh. The way her eyes glint with happiness when we’re together. The way I feel when I’m with her, like everything in this world was designed to bring us together. “But I doubt she’ll have anything to do with me now.”

Jason gives me a onceover. “In the state you’re in? Probably not. I mean, shit, man. I came here to offer you a job and I’m not even sure I want anything to do with you.”

I almost don’t hear him over the drone of thoughts running through my head. All I can think about is finding Sarah.

Apologizing.

Explaining.

Fixing.

I barely have the capacity to listen, but his statement is so absurd, it makes it through.

“Offer me a job? What are you talking about?” I run a hand along the back of my neck and lean against the wall.

Jason nudges the broken pieces of a picture frame with his toe. “I mean, I want to start my own firm. McDougan & Kent does a lot right, but they do a lot wrong, too. I think the two of us can make something pretty damn impressive…or I did. Before this self-destructive, self-pitying side of you came floating back to the surface.”

The idea is a good one. Jason is wickedly talented and when the two of us work together, miracles happen. This could be good. Like really, really good.

“Start your own firm? Why haven’t you said anything about this until now?”

“Because I knew how much you loved your job. What in the world could I offer you to make you want to quit a sure thing and take a chance on something that could backfire? When you got yourself fired, I thought, hey! Here’s my chance!” He gives me a look meant to cut through all the bullshit and get straight to the heart of the matter. “But I’m not about to take a chance on you until you get yourself cleaned up. You beat this shit once. Don’t be a douche and let it win now.”

Jason sticks around long enough to watch me empty the last bottle of Jameson down the sink. I promise I’ll get my shit together and by the time he leaves, I’m feeling almost optimistic about the future.

I grab my phone and type out a text to Sarah.

Me: Hey. I’m sorry about what I said yesterday

I erase the words. What kind of asshole tries to take back a statement like “I slept with someone while you were visiting your sick dad” via text. I try again.

Me: I miss you

I jam my thumb on the backspace button. What am I supposed to say right now? How do I make this better? Do I call her? What if she doesn’t answer?

It was hard enough to try and process through the raging headache pounding against my temples, but the more I realize how much I messed things up with Sarah, the worse things get. Finally, after twenty minutes of trying out different ways to apologize and explain myself, I toss my phone onto the counter.

Only I must have thrown it harder than I thought. It careens off the counter, already in more than one piece, clinks off the corner of the coffee table, and shatters on the floor.

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