could move mountains in record time when he set his mind to it.
“The question is do you want me to?”
“Yes. I’ll call Emily to make sure she’s available.” She grinned and he kissed her neck. The distant arguing of the twins interrupted them.
“Hold that thought.” She pulled away and headed up the stairs looking at the ring on her hand with a smile.
Chapter 3
Tom lay on the beach watching the sky turn from the black of night to the various colors of dawn.
She named one after me.
The thought kept repeating over and over and over, sobering him faster than usual, more effective than a jug of coffee or a slap in the face. This coupled with the fact they never married gave his restless brain a ray of hope.
He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep on the sand. Ice-cold water smacked his face and he sat up, gasping.
Sharon stood over him, her face a mask of disgust and the bucket still in her hand, drops sliding down the side and dripping on the sand. “I’m getting sick of finding you passed out on the beach. When this premiere is over, I’m checking you into rehab,” she announced and stormed back toward the house.
“Bullshit,” he called after her and he stood up, darting past her and blocking her path.
Sharon stopped on the steps. “If you don’t do what I want, I’ll order the hit,” she reminded him like she had numerous times over the last five years whenever he pushed the envelope.
Tom narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together. “I’m not a fucking alcoholic,” he snapped, although even he had doubts about that. It was the only way to escape this hell called his life. His acting abilities only got him so far for so long and then he relied on the bottle to make the world believe this lie, this masquerade she insisted upon. Hatred burned in him, turning his natural boy-scout nature into a dark, brooding, and volatile man he didn’t recognize. He turned and entered the house.
“You will do as I say,” she ordered and slammed the door closed.
Tom stopped in his tracks, his hands balling into fists, fists that wanted to pummel every bone in her body until nothing was left but a bloody pulp. He took a deep breath gaining control over his murderous thoughts with the help of the dull pain of his fingernails creating welts in his palms.
She stalked in front of him. “Understand?”
He willed his hands to relax afraid they might take on a mind of their own and strike out at the blonde bitch blocking his path. “I’m not going to rehab.”
“Then you are going to stop drinking on your own.”
“Drinking is the only way I can get through the day being married to you.”
Her expression fell, her eyes widening and tears springing to the corners and he reveled in the pain he saw there.
“If you take that away from me, I may end up killing you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, skirting around her and crossing to the master bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He turned on the shower and looked at himself in the mirror.
“What the hell have I become?” he asked his reflection. Eyes devoid of compassion looked back. He dropped his chin to his chest, closing his eyes and praying for the strength to get through another day without killing the woman who called herself his wife.
Chapter 4
“He asked me to marry him,” Jessica announced into the phone.
“It’s about time,” Eric replied.
Jessica laughed at her son’s reaction. “He just wasn’t ready , Eric,” she defended Chris’s procrastination.
“He was ready the day he walked back into your life five years ago , Mom. He was just afraid of the answer.”
Jessica looked out the back door at Chris playing in the snow with the boys. “I know, but he shouldn’t have been.” She smiled when he let the boys tackle him. “Anyway, think you can get away next Thursday night?”
“To baby sit?”
“Stop being such a smart ass, you already know why I’m asking.”
“I know and yes, I
“The question is do you want me to?”
“Yes. I’ll call Emily to make sure she’s available.” She grinned and he kissed her neck. The distant arguing of the twins interrupted them.
“Hold that thought.” She pulled away and headed up the stairs looking at the ring on her hand with a smile.
Chapter 3
Tom lay on the beach watching the sky turn from the black of night to the various colors of dawn.
She named one after me.
The thought kept repeating over and over and over, sobering him faster than usual, more effective than a jug of coffee or a slap in the face. This coupled with the fact they never married gave his restless brain a ray of hope.
He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep on the sand. Ice-cold water smacked his face and he sat up, gasping.
Sharon stood over him, her face a mask of disgust and the bucket still in her hand, drops sliding down the side and dripping on the sand. “I’m getting sick of finding you passed out on the beach. When this premiere is over, I’m checking you into rehab,” she announced and stormed back toward the house.
“Bullshit,” he called after her and he stood up, darting past her and blocking her path.
Sharon stopped on the steps. “If you don’t do what I want, I’ll order the hit,” she reminded him like she had numerous times over the last five years whenever he pushed the envelope.
Tom narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together. “I’m not a fucking alcoholic,” he snapped, although even he had doubts about that. It was the only way to escape this hell called his life. His acting abilities only got him so far for so long and then he relied on the bottle to make the world believe this lie, this masquerade she insisted upon. Hatred burned in him, turning his natural boy-scout nature into a dark, brooding, and volatile man he didn’t recognize. He turned and entered the house.
“You will do as I say,” she ordered and slammed the door closed.
Tom stopped in his tracks, his hands balling into fists, fists that wanted to pummel every bone in her body until nothing was left but a bloody pulp. He took a deep breath gaining control over his murderous thoughts with the help of the dull pain of his fingernails creating welts in his palms.
She stalked in front of him. “Understand?”
He willed his hands to relax afraid they might take on a mind of their own and strike out at the blonde bitch blocking his path. “I’m not going to rehab.”
“Then you are going to stop drinking on your own.”
“Drinking is the only way I can get through the day being married to you.”
Her expression fell, her eyes widening and tears springing to the corners and he reveled in the pain he saw there.
“If you take that away from me, I may end up killing you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, skirting around her and crossing to the master bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He turned on the shower and looked at himself in the mirror.
“What the hell have I become?” he asked his reflection. Eyes devoid of compassion looked back. He dropped his chin to his chest, closing his eyes and praying for the strength to get through another day without killing the woman who called herself his wife.
Chapter 4
“He asked me to marry him,” Jessica announced into the phone.
“It’s about time,” Eric replied.
Jessica laughed at her son’s reaction. “He just wasn’t ready , Eric,” she defended Chris’s procrastination.
“He was ready the day he walked back into your life five years ago , Mom. He was just afraid of the answer.”
Jessica looked out the back door at Chris playing in the snow with the boys. “I know, but he shouldn’t have been.” She smiled when he let the boys tackle him. “Anyway, think you can get away next Thursday night?”
“To baby sit?”
“Stop being such a smart ass, you already know why I’m asking.”
“I know and yes, I
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