“No, I wasn’t. I was too busy fucking you to think about having a drink.” I match her derision. “I was too busy fucking you to think about anything. And you loved it.” My dirty smile is natural. She’s hurting. Good. Welcome to the fucking club, baby. And an unreasonable urge in me wants to make her hurt more, because she’s here now, stamping all over my attempts to rid myself of my agony. “You were good. In fact, you were the best I’ve had. And I’ve had a lot.” My head snaps to the side with the power of her slap, and again, it fucking hurts. I breathe through the sting, laughing at the irony. Seems I’m not immune to her like I’d hoped. She has this power over me, the power to destroy me, and I realize in this moment that nothing can save me from my fate now. Not even my trusty vodka. “Fun, wasn’t it?”

“You’re one fucked-up sorry state.”

“Watch your mouth.” She just loves seeing me tortured.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can say. You don’t get to tell me how to do anything anymore.”

Anymore? Whenever did she fucking listen to me anyway? “I’m. A. Fucked-up. Sorry. State. And. It’s. All. Because. Of. You.”

She’s suddenly gone, and the second my drunken eyes register her absence, my heavy legs start to follow, dropping the bottle on my way. The damn stuff isn’t having the desired effect anymore.

By the time I make it upstairs, she’s got armfuls of clothes. She stops outside the walk-in wardrobe and studies me for a few moments while I frown. Then she’s moving again, going to the bathroom. I follow, coming to a stop by the vanity unit where I fucked her for the first time.

“Does this bring back memories, Ava?” I ask as she stuffs her toiletries into her bag, the memories of the first time I truly got my hands on her flooding my drunken mind, burning away the alcohol, making more room for more pain. She doesn’t answer, and instinct has me moving to the doorway, blocking her escape.

“You’re really going?” I ask, looking at her arms full of all her things that looked so perfect in my home. She’s taking it all.

“You think I would stay?” she asks, almost on a laugh. Yes, I think she would, if she’d only stop for a moment and acknowledge my grief. Accept that she can repair the mess that I am.

“So, that’s it?” I ask. “You’ve turned my life upside down, caused all this damage, and now you’re leaving without fixing it?”

Her eyes remain glued to mine for a few moments, her chest expanding. “Goodbye, Jesse.” She shoulders her way past me, and I stumble, hitting the doorframe.