I drop my keys and phone on the table as I pass, heading straight for the stairs. As I enter the bedroom, I lose grip of her purse, and it hits the floor with a thud. I leave it and lower her to the bed, rolling her onto her side to access the zipper on her dress. She moans and murmurs as I peel the non-existent fabric down her body, revealing lace. Lace knickers, lace bra. Lots and lots of lace. I smile. Then pout. Torture.

I gather up her dress, getting a waft of wine. Did she tip it all over herself, as well as down her throat? I shake my head and take it downstairs, tossing it in the washer and frowning at the dials on the front. I have not one fucking clue what I’m doing, and after pushing and pressing, twisting and pulling, I give up and go back upstairs.

I walk into the bedroom and tread on something. My eyes fall to her purse on the floor. It’s open, the contents scattered everywhere. I slowly dip and collect up her things. Her phone. Keys. A lipstick. My hand reaches for a thin strip of pills, my lip receiving a punishing chew as I turn them over in my hand, noticing only one has been taken. A new packet. Do what it takes to keep her. I shake my head. What the fuck are you on, Ward?

Stuffing the packet back inside her purse, I rise and toss it on the dresser, then slowly strip as I watch her sleeping. I round the bed and crawl in beside her, brushing her hair from her face. So peaceful. So unaware of the craziness running amok in my mind.

All is not lost. You still have some wins ahead of you.

Ava will make me a victor, not a failure. With her, I win.

Keep her. Do whatever it takes to keep her. Surely I can’t—

My eyes fall to her purse on the dresser. I see the pills inside. And before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of bed and raiding her purse, digging out the small packet. I stare at them. For a long, long time, I just stare at them. Crazy! I quickly slip them back in and walk away. And stop halfway across my bedroom, my eyes darting at my feet. I’ve been trapped. I can’t even believe I’m thinking this shit. But I didn’t want to be kept. I wasn’t in love.

Ava is.

I look at her on the bed. Oblivious. Oblivious now, drunk and sleeping, and oblivious tomorrow, awake and sober. She won’t remember what she said. She won’t remember a thing.