Cal must have gone on a drunken shopping spree yesterday because there is no explanation for the ten packages that show up on my doorstep the next afternoon. The labels on the boxes range from the most expensive luxury department store in America to some French names I can’t pronounce, let alone recognize.
“Please sign here.” The delivery man hands me a clipboard.
I text Cal once he leaves.
You have a delivery.
His reply is instantaneous.
Be right there.
Perfect. At least this way, we can talk about what happened yesterday and get something straight.
I had planned on speaking to Cal once he came over this afternoon to work on the attic, but he never showed after I came home from work.
It doesn’t take him long to pull into the driveway with his fancy car. Not sure how he plans on fitting all those boxes inside his trunk, but I wish him the best of luck regardless.
“Hey.” He doesn’t remove his sunglasses.
I cross my arms. “Hi.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “About yesterday… Thanks for checking on me.”
My lips tug down into a frown. “I don’t want you getting drunk inside of my house again.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. If I find you like that again, then I’m calling a moving company to bag your stuff for you.”
His head hangs and his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, revealing his bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Apologizing doesn’t mean anything when you have no intention of fixing the problem in the first place.”
His hands clench by his sides. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
He looks up, and the tick in his jaw has my heart sinking in my chest.
I don’t want to hurt him, but I have a kid to think about. There is no way I want Cami to find Cal stumbling about the house, drunk and incapable of controlling his emotions.
She deserves better than that.
“I have a problem. Anaddiction.”
My mouth opens only to shut a second later.
“I know I’m powerless over alcohol. They taught me as much in rehab and AA. But I can’t ignore how ashamed I am, knowing I’m only slightly better off than I was six years ago.”
My eyes burn.
He takes a deep breath. “I can’t quit drinking completely yet, but I’ll limit myself for you. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have, and what happened in the attic was unacceptable and pathetic.”
Oh, God.My whole chest aches.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Okay,” I rasp.