Page 28 of Notes About Vodka (Happily Ever After Hangover #1)

Chapter Fifteen

LAURA

“Why did the vodka break up with the water? Because it found someone more intoxicating!”

The sharp ring of my phone jolts me awake, yanking me out of the thin, restless sleep I’d barely managed to fall into.

What a great vivid dream I had. One where I was in this world, but when I would go to sleep, I was in a new world, a delusional world with a Fae prince and I was a Fae princess. But then I’d wake up in the real world again. Unsatisfied that I was there.

I blink, my eyes gritty from exhaustion as the screen glows bright in the early morning light.

Ronni’s name flashes across the display.

With a groggy sigh, I rub my face, trying to shake off the fog clouding my mind, and swipe to answer the call from my divorce lawyer.

“Hey, Ronni,” I croak, my voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning, Laura!” Her voice is bright, unnervingly chipper for this hour .

Oh, crap! It ’ s already 8:15 a.m.

Ronni’s tone is too happy as she keeps talking and I try to reign in my panic for oversleeping. “I’ve got some good news. The judge has agreed to hear your divorce case in two weeks.”

I sit up straighter, my brain slowly catching up to her words. A wave of relief washes over me. One at realizing I don’t have class today, just work later on, but also because it feels like a heavy weight that’s been pressing down on my chest for months is finally lifting.

Two weeks.

“That’s...amazing,” I say, my voice breathy with disbelief. “Thank you, Ronni. Really.”

“We’re making progress,” she continues, and I can hear the confidence in her voice.

“I’m filing for the abandonment clause we discussed.

Given how long Sam has been out of the picture and his lack of cooperation now that he has gone back to Florida, this is our best shot.

I’m confident the judge will see it in our favor. ”

The abandonment clause—something I hadn't even known was an option until Ronni explained it to me a few weeks ago. Essentially, it means that because Sam has been absent and uncooperative for so long, I can proceed with the divorce without needing his consent.

Sam has made this divorce so much harder than it needed to be, dragging his feet and throwing up roadblocks at every turn. What should have been quick has carried on for over a year. But this...this felt like a real chance to finally close that chapter.

“Two weeks,” I murmur, more to myself than to Ronni.

“We’ll need to go over a few things, but I’ll email you the details later today,” Ronni says, pulling me back to the moment. “In the meantime, take a deep breath. This is a big step.”

“Thank you, Ronni. I really appreciate everything. ”

“Of course. I’ll talk to you soon,” she replies before hanging up.

I flop back onto my pillow, the phone slipping from my hand, its cold surface brushing against my cheek before tumbling onto the sheets. My chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

For the first time in ages, I allow myself to feel a glimmer of hope.

I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing, but the relief is tinged with bitterness as a memory before I moved to NYC of one of the last conversations with Sam back in Alabama creeps in.

He had been traveling back and forth to Florida for work for months at a time, even though I never saw a paycheck enter our bank account.

One night when he was home in our trailer, I decided I was done, over his constant excuses and the way he dodged every serious conversation with empty reassurances.

I’d thought he’d finally leave me alone after not contacting me while he was away working.

That he’d disappear back to the panhandle and let me live my life in peace.

How could he care about me when he was just a ghost and always wanting other women?

His voice was casual, as if he had rewritten our entire relationship in his mind—as if we had always been happy and nothing had ever gone wrong—as he denied my request for a divorce.

"Laura, come on, don't be mad I'm staying with Sarah. It's just for a little while, nothing serious." he said, laughing, "You know we don’t have to be like that. We’re in an open relationship, aren’t we? We don’t do jealousy. "

My stomach churned at his words. "No, Sam. You decided we were swingers. I never agreed to that. I don’t want to share, and I don’t want to be shared. It makes me sick. "

He sighed, dismissing me like a child throwing a tantrum. "We’re just animals, babe. It’s natural."

But I wasn’t an animal. And what he did—what he kept doing—wasn't natural. It was betrayal. It was cruelty. And he had the audacity to act like my pain was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. As if he was supposed to break the vows of our marriage time and time again…

After refusing to speak to him or return his text, Sam finally used Skip to follow me to New York, determined to make my life hell. His smarmy grin while he was at the bar made it clear he didn’t take anything seriously.

I’m still so angry—not just at him for manipulating the situation, but at Skipper for believing him.

Maybe it was loyalty, maybe it was naivety, or maybe Skipper just wanted to see the best in people—even when they didn’t deserve it.

For letting him in. Because we are just too fucking nice sometimes.

There was no remorse. Just the crazy ass controlling narcissistic freak that is Sam.

Nothing has changed, even on a phone call after I moved to New York, there is that fake sweetness laced with arrogance.

“Hey, Laura,” he’d said, “I heard you’ve been busy. Got yourself a lawyer, huh?”

I’d gripped the phone tighter, my heart pounding in my chest. “Sam, I’ve told you before—this is over. If I have to, I will get a restraining order. We are done, Sam.”

He’d laughed.

Laughed!

“Restraining orders don’t mean shit, Laura. You think a piece of paper is going to keep me away from my wife?”

That laugh haunted me for days afterward, but I didn’t back down. I grabbed the counter for support as I restated, “It’s not just a piece of paper, Sam. It’s legal protection. You come near me again, you’re going to jail. ”

The laughter had stopped then. His voice had turned cold, like ice cracking beneath the weight of his anger. “You really think you can just walk away? That I’m going to let you make me look like the bad guy?”

“I don’t have to make you look like anything,” I snapped, shaking but holding firm. “You did that all on your own.”

There had been a long pause. I could feel his frustration building through the silence. “You’re making a mistake, Laura. You think this is going to end well for you? Well think again. I’m going to destroy you.”

I didn’t reply.

I hung up, blocking his number for what felt like the hundredth time.

Change your phone number, Laura, and stop answering calls from people you don ’ t know. They are not all your mom calling from payphones. She has a cell now. You can let the nightmare go.

Now, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Sam had tried to intimidate me, tried to make me feel small, but it hadn’t worked.

I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who’d let him walk all over her.

I wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time.

He thought he could control me, use me, hurt me. Not anymore.

Two more weeks. I just have to make it two more weeks, and then I’ll be free.

The thought gives me a flicker of hope. Sam might have tried to tear me down, but I’m still standing. And now, finally, I can see the end of the road.

Soon I’ll finally have my degree and I can move forward, get into medical school, and help others.

Getting ready for work later that day, I find myself thinking about Val.

It’s been a few days since Val blew my mind with that kiss at work. My lips still tingle when I think about how passionately Val kisses. I mean, I’ve been given two and each feels like a shot of adrenaline. If he kisses as well as he...

Sigh , one day, I might find out.

I’ve seen Val at work nearly every day and we text constantly. We’ve also kept up our playful back-and-forth on napkins, and I even have his latest note folded in my pocket. I pull it out, reading the words for what feels like the hundredth time,

“You light up the room every time you walk in.”

Below, he added one of his terrible jokes:

Why do biologists look forward to casual Fridays? Because they’re allowed to wear genes to work!

You are so different, Valerie.

Despite how much those little notes make me smile, I haven’t had much time to see him outside of Pianissimo . I’m always running late, hiding in the shadows as I quickly catch up on lecture notes or complete my nightly side work so I can escape back home.

I’ve barely seen Rhea or Skipper since they are both exceptionally busy as well. Between school, work, meetings with Ronni, and now counseling sessions with Dr. Pam, I don’t have enough hours in my days.

Speaking of which, I think back to my session with Dr. Pam this morning after I finally got up and motivated.

She suggested I find a creative outlet, something besides piano, classes, and work.

She said it could help me process my emotions in a different way, maybe even give me a sense of control over something when everything else feels so chaotic.

I know she’s right—having something just for myself, something that isn’t tied to grades or obligations, might be exactly what I need .

“Maybe try painting,” she said. “Or growing something on your patio. Didn’t you tell me it gets plenty of sunlight? Gardening could be therapeutic.”

A small garden on the patio? I can already picture Skipper naming every single plant after a famous rock star. He’d probably name a tomato plant Freddie Mercury or dub an ornamental pepper Bon Jovi.