Page 73 of A Touch of Fate

I gritted my teeth, growing annoyed at how blasé he was. Was it a man thing? A Made Man thing? Or was I really overreacting? I didn’t think so.

“All right. Thank you for getting him home. I’ll handle it from here.”

I pulled Samuel’s shoes off.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’ve undressed him before, don’t worry,” I said, not even blushing. I was so frustrated with the situation. I felt helpless in a way I’d never experienced, not even when my body failed me after the accident, and I didn’t know how to come to terms with it.

Renato nodded, then he turned around, and I heard him walk down the stairs. I took a deep breath. After his shoes were off, I got rid of his socks, then leaned over him to unbuckle his belt. Getting him out of his pants was far more difficult than anticipated. Samuel was tall and much heavier than me. I hoisted myself onto the bed, hoping for a better angle. After plenty of tugging, his pants still hung around his hips. I blew out my breath and decided to deal with his shirt for now. But without his help, I couldn’t pull it off either. Tears of anger and frustration gathered in my eyes. I went to the bathroom in my wheelchair, pulled scissors from a drawer under the sink, and returned to Samuel. I began cutting away his shirt and the tank he wore beneath, then proceeded to destroy his pants in the same way. I hoped these weren’t his favorite clothes, but maybe that would teach him a lesson not to drink so much. Though I doubted Samuel was at a point where a lesson like that would stop him from drinking. We hadn’t been married for very long, but I wasn’t blind nor stupid. Samuel had a problem. I just wasn’t quite sure yet how serious it was.

I tugged the rags away and tossed them to the floor. Samuel didn’t stir. I left him in his boxers. Because he lay on the covers, I couldn’t even tuck him in. It wasn’t very cold in the bedroom, so I simply left him as he was and awkwardly crawled under the covers, which Samuel weighted down.

I extinguished the lights, but I was too agitated to fall asleep. My thoughts revolved around what I’d witnessed in the past two weeks. Samuel drank too much. He drank every day, especially when he was in a bad mood or stressed. I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting. When could you call someone an alcoholic? Was there a universal rule? I couldn’t ask anyone I knew. At least not from our families. But maybe I could ask Priest Agnello. Perhaps he had experience with Made Men who struggled with addiction, though I doubted many of them made their problem publicsince it could cost them their standing and, depending on their addiction, even their lives. I had to make sure Priest Agnello didn’t think Samuel was the reason for my interest. Considering Samuel’s controlled and poised outward appearance, I doubted many people would suspect him. Still, I couldn’t risk anything. Too much was at stake.

Or was I overreacting? I had only gotten a small glimpse into Samuel’s life. Maybe the past two weeks had been an exemption. Perhaps he didn’t usually drink as much. Stress could do a lot to people. His life had changed drastically with our marriage as well.

Samuel snored, which only added to my anger. I had half a mind to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, but I worried he’d stop breathing. What if he was close to alcohol poisoning? I covered my ears with another pillow and tried to fall asleep.

The mattress shifted, and Samuel groaned. Then something heavy landed on the floor. I sat up and turned on the lights. Squinting against the sudden brightness, I realized Samuel was no longer in bed beside me. I scooted over to the other side and looked down. Samuel lay on his side on the floor, still asleep.

There was no way I could get him back into bed, and for what? He’d probably roll out of bed again and possibly hit his head on the nightstand. He could sleep on the floor tonight.

I turned off the lights, but then worried that Samuel would throw up and I wouldn’t notice until it was too late. I didn’t want him to choke on his own vomit. With a sigh, I turned the lights on and lowered myself to the floor beside Samuel. I leaned against the bed with a cushion at my back and covered myself with the blanket, then extinguished the lights.

With my hand on Samuel’s shoulder, I closed my eyes, hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep. My dance session would be a mess otherwise.

I woke up on the floor. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew that was where I was. My stiff neck and back definitely spoke a clear language. But the worst pain was in my head. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this shitty after a night of drinking.

I peeled my eyes open and stared at Emma. She sat on the floor beside me, propped up against the bed, her head tilted awkwardly to the side. One of her hands rested on my arm. I rolled to my back, and her hand slid to my chest.

Fuck. What happened?

Renato must have brought me home last night. The idiot should have taken me to his place instead. Emma didn’t need to see me like this.

I sat up despite the lightning strike of agony that hit my brain. I touched my temple and blew out a breath. After another moment to gather myself, I pushed to my feet. That was when I realized that my shirt hung in tatters from my body, and my pants looked as if an angry kitten had ripped into them. I found the scissors on the nightstand. I shook my head in amusement, then regretted it. Emma must have cut me out of my clothes.The thought sobered me immediately. Fuck. I hadn’t noticed someone cutting clothes off my body with scissors. If someone had used the moment to attack…Dammit.

I bent down despite the way my vision swam and lifted Emma into my arms. She stirred as I gently laid her down in bed, and her eyes fluttered open. “Shhh. It’s just me. Sleep.”

But her eyes opened all the way, and the look in them was like a douse of cold water. I moved to kiss her, but her hand came up and covered my mouth. “You smell like a liquor store.”

I straightened. “I’ll take a shower and brush my teeth.”

Emma tried to sit up in bed, then winced. “Ouch. Sleeping on the floor is a bad idea. Everything hurts.”

“Why did you?”

She gave me a look as if that should be obvious. “I was worried you’d throw up and choke on your vomit. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

“I was fine.”

“You were not. You didn’t notice anything. You and Renato broke all our vases and decorations downstairs.”

“You can buy new stuff. You didn’t even pick the decorations, so this is your chance to get something that fits your taste.”

Emma gave me an indignant look. “Samuel, this is serious.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I’m a grown man, and sometimes men get drunk, especially after a shitty day.”

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