Assimilation Part I: The Arcane Gods Book 1, page 1
“Come for me, baby,” Jeremy murmured at my ear, slowing his thrusts and doing more of a rubbing motion inside of me.
Fuck, I loved when he said that. It was almost like a command, but said in the raspiest, softest voice imaginable.
My nails dug into his back as he said it again, and the pressure building within me swelled harder. I was practically screaming, and the louder I got, the bigger he smiled.
The soft clenches within me built higher and higher. Sweat beaded my forehead as he took my face in one hand. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured.
The moment those words left him, that mountain I was climbing finally reached its peak, and my muscles tightened so hard that his smirking lips fell open.
“Fuck yes,” he murmured. He dropped his thumb to my clit instead of his hips and rubbed it fast, and a bit harder than usual, but it only made me scream louder and my muscles heave him tighter into me.
***
“Jesus,” I murmured between deep breaths.
Jeremy laughed, head clunking to my bare chest. “We should do that more often.”
I chuckled, hand moving through his hair. Heavy breaths moved in and out my lungs as my heart began to level. “That was amazing.”
“It was, huh?” He grinned, sitting forward to meet my gaze.
I smiled back and gave a nod. I hopped to the ground. “I’m starving, though. You ready to eat?”
“I’m not that hungry.”
I stepped into my skirt, lifted my shirt over my shoulders, and tossed him his. “I drove an hour to get you that birthday meal. You have to eat.”
“I’ll eat it later,” he said.
I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. “No, I had this whole thing planned. Your favorite food, your birthday cake, the works. You’re eating, damn it.”
He sighed as he raised his arms through the T-shirt. “Alright, woman. I’ll eat. Will that make you happy?”
“It will.” I leaned forward and touched his lips to mine.
I bent down, lifted his boxers and jeans, and tossed them to him. As he caught them, keys fell from the pocket. I leaned over to pick them up. And my eyes steadied on something caught between them.
A little baggy. The kind that a spare button and thread come in on a pair of jeans.
Half full of bright white powder.
My stomach sunk, and my heart palpated in my chest. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew he shouldn’t have had it. I also quickly realized that my plans for the evening were ruined.
“So what all do we need to get the music school open?” Jeremy lifted his boxers over his ankles. “I know we already applied for the license and everything, but what else do we need? Insurance, right? Damn, I bet that’ll be expensive as hell working with kids. Understandably so but still. What do you think, probably like a grand or two a month, huh? We better insure the instruments too. That piano alone…”
He went on as I lifted it between us.
I looked up to meet his gaze, cutting off whatever he was saying. “What the fuck is this?”
“What?” He glanced up.
I held out the baggie, and he froze. He reached for it, but I pulled back. “What is it, Jeremy?”
“Nothing.” He jumped from the counter and tried to take it from my hand, but I closed my palm around it.
“Heroin?”
“No. It’s not heroin.” He reached for it again, and I yanked it back further. “It isn’t heroin, calm down.”
“Calm down?” I knitted my brows. “Calm down, that’s what you just said to me.”
“It’s not a big deal, Lai—”
“What is it, Jeremy?” I repeated.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said again.
I clamped my jaw shut. As he reached for it again, I caught my fingertips aflame. His mouth fell open.
“Now it doesn’t matter.” I let the ashes fall to the ground.
He licked his teeth, letting out a huff as his head shook.
“So you’re high,” I said. “That’s why you’re in such a good mood. Not because you have the most beautiful wife in the world, or because you’re happy we passed the inspection, or because you’re glad to have a three-day weekend. ‘Cause you’re fucked up.”
“I’m not even—”
“You’re not high?” I wrinkled my brows. “Is that what you’re about to tell me?”
“Laila—”
“What was it, Jeremy?” I said once more. “What the fuck was it?”
He shook his head, gaze turning downward.
I took a step forward and lifted his chin, eyes moving between his. I hadn’t noticed while we were fucking, because his pupils always dilated when we had sex. He pushed my hand away and turned his gaze away from me.
“Well, considering your eyes are saucers, you’re pretty talkative and energetic, and you just fucked me like an animal, I’m gonna go with coke?” I said. “It’d be the opposite if it was dope, so probably coke, right?”
He licked his teeth. “Yes. It was coke.”
I chewed my cheek for a moment. I shook my head and huffed. “Were you going to tell me?”
He looked down and stayed quiet.
“No then,” I muttered. “‘Cause it wasn’t like the day we bought the house. Not just a one-time mistake. It was planned. You premeditated it—”
“I didn’t plan anything.” He looked up. “I just—”
“You had a bag in your pocket for later!” I yelled. “That’s the definition of premeditating.”
He shook his head.
I knew how good he was at hiding shit from me. Granted, I was hiding something big too, but on a whole other level. And I felt betrayed. I couldn’t go through this shit again. Lying to me for months and months, letting me go on believing everything was fine when he was a hot fucking mess.
I crossed my arms against my chest. “So how long?”
“How long what?”
“How long has this been going on?” I asked. “When did you relapse again?”
“Today,” he said.
My brows fell. I laughed. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?”
He sent me the same annoyed expression. “You can believe whatever you want, but that’s the truth.”
“And I just so happen to catch you on the first day? Come on now, I’m not stupid—”
His gaze narrowed. “Clearly you are because I haven’t done coke since I was eighteen until today.”
I huffed and shook my head.
He raised his hand to his face, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that. You aren’t stupid. But I’m telling you the truth, alright? Today, I relapsed today.”
“How?” I asked. “Why? Where did you even get it?”
He rubbed his tense forehead. “A couple guys at work were doing some lines in their truck. It looked a lot like Brody’s, I opened the wrong door, and they offered me some so I wouldn’t tell Ken.”
“And you just took it?” I furrowed my brows. “You just said fuck it, I’m gonna blow some coke today.”
He breathed out a slow sigh, shaking his head.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I’m stupid.” His eyes darted back to mine. “Because I was tired, and I knew it’d wake me up. Because I wanted to feel good, because I wanted to have fun. Because I’m an addict. I don’t fucking know, Laila.”
“Drink a cup of coffee next time.” I huffed and shook my head. “You know, it was one thing when you relapsed last time. You had a reason to, you were hurting, and I understood. But this? Just throwing away your sobriety because you wanted to ‘feel good’? I don’t get it, I really fucking don’t—”
“What, like you’ve never done drugs?” His wide eyes were back on mine. “We rolled together. I carried you out of a burning building because you were tripping too hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. You—”
“That was before we were parents!” I yelled. “That was after I lost my son, and I was fighting the urge to kill myself every goddamned day. That wasn’t—that’s not the same as this. Don’t even try to act like it is because we both know better.”
His angry eyes flicked between mine for a moment. They gradually softened. He raked a hand through his waves of black and turned away. “I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, but I thought it wasn’t a big deal.” I cocked my head to the side. “That’s what you said. It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal.”
He rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Laila?”
I want you to be sober. I want you to quit putting me through this shit. I want the husband I had a month and a half ago. I want to tell you that we’re about to have two more kids, but I can’t because you’re a fucking shit show.
I huffed, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Guess there isn’t anything to say, huh?”
His eyes shifted over me for a long moment.
I chewed my lip and turned away. I buttoned up my shirt, walked to the table, and rolled my silverware into a napkin.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I’m going home.”
“I thought we were going to have dinner—”
“We were.” I spun to meet his gaze. “But you’re not hungry anyway, right? So I’m gonna go eat with Betsy and Daisy. Can’t go home home because then our kids are gonna ask where their dad is, and why I’m suddenly in such a bad mood when I was so happy earlier.”
“Lai—”
“You sober up. Drink some water, come down, then eat your birthday dinner. And I swear on our kids that if you go out and get more drugs, you’ll fucking regret it,” I snapped.
He chewed his lip for a moment. He nodded.
“And lock up when you leave,” I said.
I grabbed my plate, tucked the rolled silverware underneath, lifted my water to my armpit, and teleported to the barn.
Daisy jumped, kicking her back legs out as she neighed in her stable. Betsy huffed, and I bit my trembling lip. I laid my plate on a hay bale then lowered myself beside it. Tears streamed from my eyes as I plopped a cold potato to my mouth with shaking hands. I tried to enjoy the flavor, but I couldn’t focus on anything.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Clearly my plans to tell him about our new babies were ruined. I couldn’t bring that up after his relapse, then our blow out.
I was angry, I was hurt, and I was sad.
Things were just starting to look good. Things were just starting to level out. And suddenly, they were a mess again.
Chapter Thirty
Jeremy
I didn’t blame her for leaving. I didn’t blame her for being pissed. But I was pissed too.
In the immediate moment, at her. Rationally, I knew I didn’t have the right to be. But I was still high. And that’s the thing about blow. You’re either super happy and euphoric or raging your ass off. I’d gone from the fun side of the spectrum to the shitty side at super speed.
What gave her the right to be mad at me? I’d worked my ass off all day at a job I hated just to put food on the table. Yeah, I got high, but I wasn’t around the kids. It was my birthday; I just wanted to have fun. Everyone else was allowed to get fucked up on their birthday, what was the issue with me doing it if I didn’t hurt anyone? I hadn’t, my actions affected no one but myself.
That’s what was going through my head as I came down, anyway. But by ten thirty when the effects were almost worn off, the anger faded into regret. Because she was right. Obviously, she was right.
I looked over the table she’d laid out for us, and I felt like the worst person on the planet. She’d covered the little table with a white cloth. Two white pillar candles burned in the center. A small globe of flowers she and our kids had grown sat in the center. She had no clue how to make confit de canard, but she heated and arranged it beautifully on the plate beside the roasted potatoes and sautéed garlic.
With a guilty conscious, I sat down and ate it. I couldn’t really taste it. I couldn’t smell it either; my nose was too congested from the shit I’d put up it. My mouth filled with blood a few times from chomping on my tongue since I couldn’t feel it. But I was sure it would’ve been delicious if I hadn’t blown that coke.
I opened the cake box on the counter. I told her I didn’t want one, and she said fine, she wouldn’t get me one. But she did. And not one of those typical birthday cakes, but a German chocolate specialty cake. It probably cost fifteen bucks at the local grocery store, but still. She’d gone out of her way to get my favorite cake just for the two of us.
For her birthday a week before, I’d taken her and the kids to a Chinese buffet and walked out paying forty bucks including a tip. Granted, that’s what she wanted. I hadn’t gotten her a gift either; we agreed not to this year.
It didn’t make me feel like husband of the year, but the agreement was that for our birthdays, we’d have a nice dinner and spend time together. We hadn’t gotten much of that recently, and we needed it as much as we wanted it. And I threw that time away.
She’d put a lot into making tonight special for me. And I decided to buy a ninety-dollar bag of coke off my coworker and ruin it.
She was right. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.
Around eleven, I sent a thought into her mind. Can I come home?
Are you sober?
Yeah.
Then yeah.
***
I took a look around the empty bedroom, and my stomach sunk. Then I heard the water running in the bathroom. I walked that way and knocked quietly on the door.
“What?” Laila said on the other side.
I cleared my throat. “Can I come in?”
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she muttered.
I reached for the old bronze handle and pushed the door inward. Laila lay in the tub surrounded by bubbles the scent of eucalyptus and lavender. Mascara ran from her eyes, and I wasn’t sure if that was because I made her cry or the condensation of the warm bathroom.
But I forced a smile anyway. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She glanced down and soaked her loofa in the water.
I swallowed hard and licked my lips. “I’m sorry. It was a big deal. I shouldn’t have tried to downplay it.”
“Mhmm.”
“Did you…did you tell anyone?” I asked.
She finally met my gaze with furrowed brows. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“No,” I said. “No, I… I just don’t know what else to say, I guess.”
She huffed, shaking her head and turning back to her loofa.
“It doesn’t look like you packed my bag,” I murmured. “So…so that’s a good sign, I guess.”
“I guess,” she repeated.
I got quiet for a moment. She had more than every right to be angry. But I wanted to make it right. I didn’t want to end the day without making up, or at least attempting to. So I walked to the tub and kneeled down beside her.
“The kids are looking forward to their movie and lunch with you tomorrow. They said you can pick since it’s your birthday.”
That’s what we had done every Saturday since I started working for Ken. Sundays we stayed in the house, but Saturdays were the only day when we really got any family time. I only saw them for a couple hours each day, and our lunch and movie routine made Saturday my favorite day of the week.
“Probably be The Tigger Movie.” I smiled. “That came out last week, Milly’s been talking about it.”
“That works,” she muttered.
I leaned forward and pushed hair behind her ear. “You’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t want you to take them without me after tonight,” she said.
My brows fell slightly. “Come on, Lai. That isn’t fair.”
“What you did isn’t fair.” She met my gaze with glowing, piercing eyes. “You’re supposed to be my partner. We’re supposed to be in this together. Today was a big day, and we were supposed to enjoy it together, and you bailed on me. I know I was the one that left, but you’re the one that bailed.”
I chewed my lip, nodding slightly. “I know.”
Tears prickled her eyes, luminance in them receding. She swallowed hard as she blinked them away. “I know I act like I’m okay all the time, but I’m stressed too. This hasn’t been easy on me. I had to leave my life behind too, and I’m struggling just like you are. I’m alone. Twelve hours a day, every day, I’m alone. I have the kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but it’s still hard. I love it, and I’m not complaining, but I’m struggling too, and I need you. I need to be able to count on you. And I can’t if you’re using. Then I have to parent you too, and I don’t have it in me to be your mom on top of theirs.”
I nodded gently, cupping her face in my hand. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I’m so sorry. I know all of this has been hard on you. And I know how hard you’ve worked on the coffee shop, and I know how hard you worked on making tonight a good thing for me. I’m sorry I fucked it up.”
She looked between my eyes for a moment, hers beginning to water. “I know you can’t promise to be sober forever. I know it doesn’t work that way. But promise me you’ll be honest with me. Promise me I won’t find a bag of coke mixed in with our kid’s clothes when I’m doing laundry one day. Promise me that won’t be how I find out you’ve relapsed again.”
I nodded, chewing my lip. “I promise.”
She held my gaze. “And promise me our kids will never see it.”
“Never.” I shook my head. “Never, I promise. And I’m gonna stay clean, I swear I am. I’m not going to relapse again, I’m—”
“Don’t.” She swallowed hard as she blinked water away. “Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep, Jeremy.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Two Days Later
Laila
Over the weekend, things between me and Jeremy were awkward. I was on my toes awaiting the next relapse as he did everything in his power to prove that it wouldn’t come.
Both days, he tiptoed out of bed, got the kids ready for the day, made breakfast, then brought it to me in the bed. I didn’t want an overboard apology; I just wanted to know that he’d stay clean. But I did feel pretty crappy in the mornings. Breakfast in bed was kind of nice.
Fuck, I loved when he said that. It was almost like a command, but said in the raspiest, softest voice imaginable.
My nails dug into his back as he said it again, and the pressure building within me swelled harder. I was practically screaming, and the louder I got, the bigger he smiled.
The soft clenches within me built higher and higher. Sweat beaded my forehead as he took my face in one hand. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured.
The moment those words left him, that mountain I was climbing finally reached its peak, and my muscles tightened so hard that his smirking lips fell open.
“Fuck yes,” he murmured. He dropped his thumb to my clit instead of his hips and rubbed it fast, and a bit harder than usual, but it only made me scream louder and my muscles heave him tighter into me.
***
“Jesus,” I murmured between deep breaths.
Jeremy laughed, head clunking to my bare chest. “We should do that more often.”
I chuckled, hand moving through his hair. Heavy breaths moved in and out my lungs as my heart began to level. “That was amazing.”
“It was, huh?” He grinned, sitting forward to meet my gaze.
I smiled back and gave a nod. I hopped to the ground. “I’m starving, though. You ready to eat?”
“I’m not that hungry.”
I stepped into my skirt, lifted my shirt over my shoulders, and tossed him his. “I drove an hour to get you that birthday meal. You have to eat.”
“I’ll eat it later,” he said.
I huffed, putting my hands on my hips. “No, I had this whole thing planned. Your favorite food, your birthday cake, the works. You’re eating, damn it.”
He sighed as he raised his arms through the T-shirt. “Alright, woman. I’ll eat. Will that make you happy?”
“It will.” I leaned forward and touched his lips to mine.
I bent down, lifted his boxers and jeans, and tossed them to him. As he caught them, keys fell from the pocket. I leaned over to pick them up. And my eyes steadied on something caught between them.
A little baggy. The kind that a spare button and thread come in on a pair of jeans.
Half full of bright white powder.
My stomach sunk, and my heart palpated in my chest. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew he shouldn’t have had it. I also quickly realized that my plans for the evening were ruined.
“So what all do we need to get the music school open?” Jeremy lifted his boxers over his ankles. “I know we already applied for the license and everything, but what else do we need? Insurance, right? Damn, I bet that’ll be expensive as hell working with kids. Understandably so but still. What do you think, probably like a grand or two a month, huh? We better insure the instruments too. That piano alone…”
He went on as I lifted it between us.
I looked up to meet his gaze, cutting off whatever he was saying. “What the fuck is this?”
“What?” He glanced up.
I held out the baggie, and he froze. He reached for it, but I pulled back. “What is it, Jeremy?”
“Nothing.” He jumped from the counter and tried to take it from my hand, but I closed my palm around it.
“Heroin?”
“No. It’s not heroin.” He reached for it again, and I yanked it back further. “It isn’t heroin, calm down.”
“Calm down?” I knitted my brows. “Calm down, that’s what you just said to me.”
“It’s not a big deal, Lai—”
“What is it, Jeremy?” I repeated.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said again.
I clamped my jaw shut. As he reached for it again, I caught my fingertips aflame. His mouth fell open.
“Now it doesn’t matter.” I let the ashes fall to the ground.
He licked his teeth, letting out a huff as his head shook.
“So you’re high,” I said. “That’s why you’re in such a good mood. Not because you have the most beautiful wife in the world, or because you’re happy we passed the inspection, or because you’re glad to have a three-day weekend. ‘Cause you’re fucked up.”
“I’m not even—”
“You’re not high?” I wrinkled my brows. “Is that what you’re about to tell me?”
“Laila—”
“What was it, Jeremy?” I said once more. “What the fuck was it?”
He shook his head, gaze turning downward.
I took a step forward and lifted his chin, eyes moving between his. I hadn’t noticed while we were fucking, because his pupils always dilated when we had sex. He pushed my hand away and turned his gaze away from me.
“Well, considering your eyes are saucers, you’re pretty talkative and energetic, and you just fucked me like an animal, I’m gonna go with coke?” I said. “It’d be the opposite if it was dope, so probably coke, right?”
He licked his teeth. “Yes. It was coke.”
I chewed my cheek for a moment. I shook my head and huffed. “Were you going to tell me?”
He looked down and stayed quiet.
“No then,” I muttered. “‘Cause it wasn’t like the day we bought the house. Not just a one-time mistake. It was planned. You premeditated it—”
“I didn’t plan anything.” He looked up. “I just—”
“You had a bag in your pocket for later!” I yelled. “That’s the definition of premeditating.”
He shook his head.
I knew how good he was at hiding shit from me. Granted, I was hiding something big too, but on a whole other level. And I felt betrayed. I couldn’t go through this shit again. Lying to me for months and months, letting me go on believing everything was fine when he was a hot fucking mess.
I crossed my arms against my chest. “So how long?”
“How long what?”
“How long has this been going on?” I asked. “When did you relapse again?”
“Today,” he said.
My brows fell. I laughed. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?”
He sent me the same annoyed expression. “You can believe whatever you want, but that’s the truth.”
“And I just so happen to catch you on the first day? Come on now, I’m not stupid—”
His gaze narrowed. “Clearly you are because I haven’t done coke since I was eighteen until today.”
I huffed and shook my head.
He raised his hand to his face, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that. You aren’t stupid. But I’m telling you the truth, alright? Today, I relapsed today.”
“How?” I asked. “Why? Where did you even get it?”
He rubbed his tense forehead. “A couple guys at work were doing some lines in their truck. It looked a lot like Brody’s, I opened the wrong door, and they offered me some so I wouldn’t tell Ken.”
“And you just took it?” I furrowed my brows. “You just said fuck it, I’m gonna blow some coke today.”
He breathed out a slow sigh, shaking his head.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I’m stupid.” His eyes darted back to mine. “Because I was tired, and I knew it’d wake me up. Because I wanted to feel good, because I wanted to have fun. Because I’m an addict. I don’t fucking know, Laila.”
“Drink a cup of coffee next time.” I huffed and shook my head. “You know, it was one thing when you relapsed last time. You had a reason to, you were hurting, and I understood. But this? Just throwing away your sobriety because you wanted to ‘feel good’? I don’t get it, I really fucking don’t—”
“What, like you’ve never done drugs?” His wide eyes were back on mine. “We rolled together. I carried you out of a burning building because you were tripping too hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. You—”
“That was before we were parents!” I yelled. “That was after I lost my son, and I was fighting the urge to kill myself every goddamned day. That wasn’t—that’s not the same as this. Don’t even try to act like it is because we both know better.”
His angry eyes flicked between mine for a moment. They gradually softened. He raked a hand through his waves of black and turned away. “I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, but I thought it wasn’t a big deal.” I cocked my head to the side. “That’s what you said. It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal.”
He rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Laila?”
I want you to be sober. I want you to quit putting me through this shit. I want the husband I had a month and a half ago. I want to tell you that we’re about to have two more kids, but I can’t because you’re a fucking shit show.
I huffed, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Guess there isn’t anything to say, huh?”
His eyes shifted over me for a long moment.
I chewed my lip and turned away. I buttoned up my shirt, walked to the table, and rolled my silverware into a napkin.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I’m going home.”
“I thought we were going to have dinner—”
“We were.” I spun to meet his gaze. “But you’re not hungry anyway, right? So I’m gonna go eat with Betsy and Daisy. Can’t go home home because then our kids are gonna ask where their dad is, and why I’m suddenly in such a bad mood when I was so happy earlier.”
“Lai—”
“You sober up. Drink some water, come down, then eat your birthday dinner. And I swear on our kids that if you go out and get more drugs, you’ll fucking regret it,” I snapped.
He chewed his lip for a moment. He nodded.
“And lock up when you leave,” I said.
I grabbed my plate, tucked the rolled silverware underneath, lifted my water to my armpit, and teleported to the barn.
Daisy jumped, kicking her back legs out as she neighed in her stable. Betsy huffed, and I bit my trembling lip. I laid my plate on a hay bale then lowered myself beside it. Tears streamed from my eyes as I plopped a cold potato to my mouth with shaking hands. I tried to enjoy the flavor, but I couldn’t focus on anything.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Clearly my plans to tell him about our new babies were ruined. I couldn’t bring that up after his relapse, then our blow out.
I was angry, I was hurt, and I was sad.
Things were just starting to look good. Things were just starting to level out. And suddenly, they were a mess again.
Chapter Thirty
Jeremy
I didn’t blame her for leaving. I didn’t blame her for being pissed. But I was pissed too.
In the immediate moment, at her. Rationally, I knew I didn’t have the right to be. But I was still high. And that’s the thing about blow. You’re either super happy and euphoric or raging your ass off. I’d gone from the fun side of the spectrum to the shitty side at super speed.
What gave her the right to be mad at me? I’d worked my ass off all day at a job I hated just to put food on the table. Yeah, I got high, but I wasn’t around the kids. It was my birthday; I just wanted to have fun. Everyone else was allowed to get fucked up on their birthday, what was the issue with me doing it if I didn’t hurt anyone? I hadn’t, my actions affected no one but myself.
That’s what was going through my head as I came down, anyway. But by ten thirty when the effects were almost worn off, the anger faded into regret. Because she was right. Obviously, she was right.
I looked over the table she’d laid out for us, and I felt like the worst person on the planet. She’d covered the little table with a white cloth. Two white pillar candles burned in the center. A small globe of flowers she and our kids had grown sat in the center. She had no clue how to make confit de canard, but she heated and arranged it beautifully on the plate beside the roasted potatoes and sautéed garlic.
With a guilty conscious, I sat down and ate it. I couldn’t really taste it. I couldn’t smell it either; my nose was too congested from the shit I’d put up it. My mouth filled with blood a few times from chomping on my tongue since I couldn’t feel it. But I was sure it would’ve been delicious if I hadn’t blown that coke.
I opened the cake box on the counter. I told her I didn’t want one, and she said fine, she wouldn’t get me one. But she did. And not one of those typical birthday cakes, but a German chocolate specialty cake. It probably cost fifteen bucks at the local grocery store, but still. She’d gone out of her way to get my favorite cake just for the two of us.
For her birthday a week before, I’d taken her and the kids to a Chinese buffet and walked out paying forty bucks including a tip. Granted, that’s what she wanted. I hadn’t gotten her a gift either; we agreed not to this year.
It didn’t make me feel like husband of the year, but the agreement was that for our birthdays, we’d have a nice dinner and spend time together. We hadn’t gotten much of that recently, and we needed it as much as we wanted it. And I threw that time away.
She’d put a lot into making tonight special for me. And I decided to buy a ninety-dollar bag of coke off my coworker and ruin it.
She was right. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.
Around eleven, I sent a thought into her mind. Can I come home?
Are you sober?
Yeah.
Then yeah.
***
I took a look around the empty bedroom, and my stomach sunk. Then I heard the water running in the bathroom. I walked that way and knocked quietly on the door.
“What?” Laila said on the other side.
I cleared my throat. “Can I come in?”
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she muttered.
I reached for the old bronze handle and pushed the door inward. Laila lay in the tub surrounded by bubbles the scent of eucalyptus and lavender. Mascara ran from her eyes, and I wasn’t sure if that was because I made her cry or the condensation of the warm bathroom.
But I forced a smile anyway. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She glanced down and soaked her loofa in the water.
I swallowed hard and licked my lips. “I’m sorry. It was a big deal. I shouldn’t have tried to downplay it.”
“Mhmm.”
“Did you…did you tell anyone?” I asked.
She finally met my gaze with furrowed brows. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“No,” I said. “No, I… I just don’t know what else to say, I guess.”
She huffed, shaking her head and turning back to her loofa.
“It doesn’t look like you packed my bag,” I murmured. “So…so that’s a good sign, I guess.”
“I guess,” she repeated.
I got quiet for a moment. She had more than every right to be angry. But I wanted to make it right. I didn’t want to end the day without making up, or at least attempting to. So I walked to the tub and kneeled down beside her.
“The kids are looking forward to their movie and lunch with you tomorrow. They said you can pick since it’s your birthday.”
That’s what we had done every Saturday since I started working for Ken. Sundays we stayed in the house, but Saturdays were the only day when we really got any family time. I only saw them for a couple hours each day, and our lunch and movie routine made Saturday my favorite day of the week.
“Probably be The Tigger Movie.” I smiled. “That came out last week, Milly’s been talking about it.”
“That works,” she muttered.
I leaned forward and pushed hair behind her ear. “You’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t want you to take them without me after tonight,” she said.
My brows fell slightly. “Come on, Lai. That isn’t fair.”
“What you did isn’t fair.” She met my gaze with glowing, piercing eyes. “You’re supposed to be my partner. We’re supposed to be in this together. Today was a big day, and we were supposed to enjoy it together, and you bailed on me. I know I was the one that left, but you’re the one that bailed.”
I chewed my lip, nodding slightly. “I know.”
Tears prickled her eyes, luminance in them receding. She swallowed hard as she blinked them away. “I know I act like I’m okay all the time, but I’m stressed too. This hasn’t been easy on me. I had to leave my life behind too, and I’m struggling just like you are. I’m alone. Twelve hours a day, every day, I’m alone. I have the kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but it’s still hard. I love it, and I’m not complaining, but I’m struggling too, and I need you. I need to be able to count on you. And I can’t if you’re using. Then I have to parent you too, and I don’t have it in me to be your mom on top of theirs.”
I nodded gently, cupping her face in my hand. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I’m so sorry. I know all of this has been hard on you. And I know how hard you’ve worked on the coffee shop, and I know how hard you worked on making tonight a good thing for me. I’m sorry I fucked it up.”
She looked between my eyes for a moment, hers beginning to water. “I know you can’t promise to be sober forever. I know it doesn’t work that way. But promise me you’ll be honest with me. Promise me I won’t find a bag of coke mixed in with our kid’s clothes when I’m doing laundry one day. Promise me that won’t be how I find out you’ve relapsed again.”
I nodded, chewing my lip. “I promise.”
She held my gaze. “And promise me our kids will never see it.”
“Never.” I shook my head. “Never, I promise. And I’m gonna stay clean, I swear I am. I’m not going to relapse again, I’m—”
“Don’t.” She swallowed hard as she blinked water away. “Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep, Jeremy.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Two Days Later
Laila
Over the weekend, things between me and Jeremy were awkward. I was on my toes awaiting the next relapse as he did everything in his power to prove that it wouldn’t come.
Both days, he tiptoed out of bed, got the kids ready for the day, made breakfast, then brought it to me in the bed. I didn’t want an overboard apology; I just wanted to know that he’d stay clean. But I did feel pretty crappy in the mornings. Breakfast in bed was kind of nice.
