I reverse my steps, taking her purse and leaving the room. When I reach the kitchen, I stop by the island, swallowing hard, considering her clutch bag in my grasp. I throw it on the counter and pace back into the lounge, like I could be trying to escape a ticking time bomb. “Fuck.” I find a wall and lean face-forward into it. “Stop,” I growl, reaching up and smacking the side of my head, bashing away the madness. Someone needs to have a serious word with me because I’m trying myself and getting nowhere.

Desperate, I track my phone down to the table by the door and call John. He answers in a heartbeat.

“I’m about to do something monumentally stupid,” I say when he answers, letting myself out onto the terrace, hoping some fresh air might help clear the fog of craziness.

“Where are you?”

“Lusso.”

“Does it involve alcohol?”

“Depends who’s drinking,” I reply, perching on the edge of a lounger and taking some deep breaths. John’s silence spells confusion, so I elaborate. “Ava’s here. Pissed as a fart.”

“You plan on joining her?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I fear what I’m about to do would be worse than me cracking open a bottle of vodka.” I’m speaking without thinking, my motor mouth working faster than my twisted mind in this mayhem.

“What the fuck are you going to do?”

I fall to my back on the lounger and stare at the black sky. What can I say? The truth? He’ll have me sectioned. I deserve to be sectioned. And Ava would be well within her rights to walk away. Should I be giving her another reason to do that? Fuck me, I’m losing it. And before I confirm that to John beyond all doubt, I need to think quickly. “I roughed up her ex-boyfriend tonight,” I say quietly.

His sigh is loud and exasperated. “What is with you lately?” he asks. I wonder that myself. “How bad?”

“Well, he won’t be touching Ava again.”

“How bad?” he growls.

“He might have a few bruises around his neck.” He’s lucky I didn’t break his fucking legs.

“You said you’re about to do something monumentally stupid.”

“I want to find him and finish the job.” That’s not a lie; I do, but Ava’s dickhead ex is the least of my problems at this precise moment. The fresh air must have worked because now I’m wondering what the fuck I’m doing calling John.

“Get some sleep,” John sighs. “And for the record, nothing could be worse than you turning to the bottle again.” He hangs up, and I laugh under my breath. If only he knew.