I take a deep breath and exhale. Court sucked today, and I am not looking forward to all the work I still have to do tonight. My desk is a mass of files, notes, and depositions. I'm struggling with the need to get it organized before court tomorrow and my need to see Alex.
My cell phone rings, and I answer it quickly. "Hey, babe."
"How was court today? Did you kick ass and take names?"
Alex sounds happy, which makes me feel even guiltier about postponing our dinner date tonight. He didn't hassle me this morning after my excessively late night at the office, which made it a lot easier to get out the door in the right frame of mind this morning.
"You know it. It went pretty well. I think I made some good points. No Perry Mason moment, but what are you gonna do?"
"Where shall I pick you up for dinner?"
"I'm at the office, but I need about an hour to get organized for tomorrow. Where are you thinking for dinner?"
Alex sighs. "Fed House?"
"Perfect. It's just down the street. Give me the hour, and I'll meet you there. Sound good?"
"An hour, Kylie. Get your work done, and I'll see you there."
I don't check the time again until seven forty-five. I'm forty-five minutes late meeting Alex for dinner.
Fuck!
I grab my cell phone to call Alex and apologize profusely when a text message from him comes in. I cringe opening it.
Have better offer. See you when you finally decide to come home.
I hit the speed dial for his cell and wait for him to answer. What the hell does that mean? What better offer?
"Kylie," he draws out my name.
My chest tightens. He's been drinking, and I slip into the familiarity of being around a drunk that defined my childhood and early adult years.
"Hey, are you still at the restaurant?" I ask, calm and upbeat despite the nausea that hits me like an angry tide.
The music in the background is loud, and I recognize the song from his playlist. Alex is in the Maserati.
Drinking and driving. That's lovely.
"No, I'm out with my friend."
Every nerve in my body is on high alert. "Who?"
"My friend. You haven't officially met her, but you heard about her the other night."
Rebekah?
My stomach drops. "I see. Well, are we still meeting for dinner?" My blood is boiling, but I try to keep my voice level.
"No, I got stood up for dinner, so I opted for dessert with someone available. You don't need to wait up for me."
The line goes dead. I fall into my desk chair.
He's cheating on me, openly, and with that woman?
I'm not sure what to do. Icy sweat covers my skin.
My mind is going a mile a minute. Is this really happening?
Alex is so upset at my being late to dinner that he is with another woman just to get back at me?
My heart constricts violently against my ribs. Pulling air into my lungs becomes more difficult. I know all too well how alcohol can bring down even the strongest of men when mixed with a dose of betrayal...even if that betrayal is perceived and not actually real. My dad was the strongest man I knew, until my mother walked out the door.
I hit the speed dial again and listen to it ring and ring before finally going to the short voice mail message, "Stone." I press End without leaving a message.
I'm so hurt. Fiery anger consumes me. Everything I felt just two nights ago upon learning about this woman comes rushing back with a more poignant sting.
Grabbing my purse and briefcase, I head to the elevator, motioning for Thomas, who is sitting in the reception lounge, playing his Nintendo DS. We head through the parking garage, and I slide into the backseat of the SUV and call Jake's cell phone.
Jake picks up after the second ring. "Kylie? Everything okay?"
"Have you spoken with Alex lately?"
"No, I thought he was with you at the restaurant."
"I was late, and he took off. He's been drinking, Jake. We need to find him before he gets pulled over...or worse." I close my eyes, not wanting to think about Alex wrapping the Maserati around a tree.
"Did he say where he was or where he was going?"
"No, just that he's with someone." The words linger in the air, heavy with implication.
"Oh." Jake is quiet for a moment. "Thomas will bring you home, and I'll go out and look for Mr. Stone."
I don't argue with him. I only offer a meek, "Okay," before ending the call.
I curl into a ball on the backseat, unsure of what to think, trying without success to block everything out. Visions of Alex injured and bleeding morph into him having sex with another woman. My stomach roils. I squeeze my eyes shut and force the images out of my mind.
Jake has been great at checking in with me, but by eleven, after driving around for three hours without any sightings of Alex, he's out of ideas. He comes through the kitchen and shakes his head at me as he passes. "I'm going up to my office and see what I can do from here."
I pick up my cell and press the speed dial for the thousandth time tonight, hoping Alex will finally answer and let me know he's not lying in a ditch, bleeding to death.
"Hello?" A woman's voice is on the other end.
"Who is this?" I ask, instantly pissed.
"Rebekah. Who's this?" Her voice is sickeningly sweet.
She knows exactly who I am and is enjoying my discomfort.
"Kylie. Put Alex on the phone." I'm way past playing her sick game.
"Um, Alex is...well, how do I put this delicately? He's indisposed at the moment, but I'll let him know you called, Kylie. Bye, bye."
The line goes dead.
I don't know what to do. My heart beats damn near out of my chest. My hands shake violently. I want to run from here and never look back.
The darkness beckons me, and I want desperately to give in to it and escape the pain.
Within minutes, Jake comes down from his office. "I found him. I'll be back."
I sink into the chair, drop my head on the breakfast bar, and weep. It's too much, more than I can handle. And I'm not sure Alex will ever be able to adapt to my world. If this is how he reacts just two days into trial, I know I will never be able to accept it.
About an hour later, Jake comes through the door, half-carrying Alex, who is clearly drunk and unable to walk on his own.
"Alex." I move toward him. He puts his arm out in front of him, elbow locked, blocking me.
I move out of the way. "Take him into the bedroom, Jake."
"No!" Alex shouts. "I can't sleep in there. Study."
Jake looks at me, and I nod, acquiescing to Alex. It's not worth getting into a fight with him in this condition. At some point, I need to get some sleep.
I follow Jake into the study, and he lowers Alex onto the couch.
"Thanks, Jake. Can you get me a bottle of water and a couple of aspirin, please?"
I take Alex's shoes off and then I move up to unbutton his shirt and wrestle that off him. We don't speak, and he’s not fighting me. He only watches me as I perform my tasks. My dad used to look at me the same way. It's been a while since I had to put a drunk to bed, but it all comes back to me like it was yesterday.
Jake returns with the water and aspirin, and I motion for him to place them on the side table. "I've got it, Jake. Thanks."
He leaves us.
I glance at Alex. "Open wide." I place the aspirins on his tongue and unscrew the water bottle. "Drink," I order, handing the bottle to him.
He takes a drink and hands it back to me.
"Nope. Drink more. It's the only thing that will save you in the morning." I don't let him stop until half of the bottle is empty.
"Do you feel sick?" I ask, my voice emotionless, even though I’m so pissed I can barely stand to be near him.
He shakes his head, still gazing at me. I can't look at him for extended periods of time. Deep hurt reflects back at me. He looks so lost, and part of me wants to take him in my arms and wish this night away. Part of me wants him to hurt as badly as he hurt me tonight. All I can do, however, is detach myself from the situation and get him to bed. Tomorrow will come, and things will look different in the light of day.
"Okay, let's try lying down." I put my hand behind his head as he slowly slides down on the couch. "Lie on your side, Alex. I don't want you choking on your puke if you throw up in your sleep."
Once his head is down, I look at him. "You good? Need to throw up?"
"No, I'm good." His voice is meek and childlike.
My heart melts, despite still being so hurt and disappointed. I shake myself out of the emotion. Just get through this night without breaking down any further. I fetch the trash can from under Alex's desk and dump the contents on the floor before walking back over to the couch and placing it in front of him.
"If you feel sick, just throw up in there, okay?"
Alex nods, and I rise. He grabs my hand, his eyes pleading with me. For what, I have no idea.
I pull my hand away. "I'll be back. You relax and try to go to sleep."
Jake is in the kitchen when I enter. I grab another water from the fridge and the bottle of aspirin from the counter.
"How's he doing?" Jake asks.
"He'll survive. He's going to have a hell of a hangover, so you're going to need to call Amy in the morning and have her reschedule at least his morning meetings, but probably the entire day."
"I'll take care of it."
I turn to leave.
"I picked him up from Patty's house, Kylie. Rebekah wasn't there."
I look at Jake and nod before continuing out the door and down the hallway. In the bedroom, I change into pajamas before grabbing a couple of pillows from the bed as well as the blanket that is artfully draped over the back of the chair. My head is still in a virtual fog.
Soft snoring sounds fill the study. I toss the pillows into the club chair, cover Alex with the blanket, and decide against trying to get a pillow under his head. Sitting in the chair, I set the alarm on my phone for every half an hour. I turn off the lamp on the table next to me, and curl into the chair. My gaze falls on Alex sleeping on the couch, and I try to figure out how things went so wrong.
When my alarm sounds at six in the morning, I pull myself out of the chair one final time, walk over to Alex, and check on him. Amazingly, he made it through the remainder of the night without any problems. I checked on him every half an hour to make sure he was still on his side and hadn't thrown up. Once, I woke him to drink more water and take aspirin, which he did without fighting me, before falling back to sleep immediately.
I'm tired as hell. I step into the shower and let the hot water fall on me. The water paralyzes me, though, and I finally allow myself to cry. I cry for myself and for Alex. I cry for what happened and for what is to come. I'm lost, devastated, and completely worn out.
Get it out, and then suck it up and move on. Tony is counting on you to be focused today.