Page 3 of Parker

“Not today, Sergeant Reid. I’ve collected what I came for.”

As we step into the elevator, only the two of us, I want to tell him it wasn’t just the alcohol.

There was a part of me that knew what I was doing and didn’t care.

The part that thought maybe if I blacked out hard enough, I’d stop missing him.

That scares me more than anything, the way I let it all go, like nothing ever mattered.

That if I drank enough, this would all be a dream.

***

Sophie stirs her English tea; the silver spoon clinks on the porcelain rim as she does.

She’s always been particular about her cups: delicate floral patterns, gold-edged plates, like something out of a Victorian parlor.

For someone so modern, her apartment is a shrine to an era long gone.

It shouldn’t suit her, but somehow it does.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cup?” she asks again, gentle but firm. “It doesn’t matter how long you stare at the door, Nicky. He’s not coming back.”

Her pale-blue eyes meet mine briefly before dropping back to her tea.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your plans for tonight,” I mumble, guilt already burning in my chest. The nausea creeping up my throat. “Were you going out?”

“It was just a date. Nothing important.”

She glances away, and that’s when I really notice her. Hair perfectly styled. More makeup than usual. She’s wearing her comfy pajamas now, but I saw the red silk dress, the one she only brings out when it means something, folded across the back of the couch.

I raise a brow. “That dress doesn’t come out on a Friday night for someone unimportant.”

“You’ve got me.” She smiles despite herself. “Remember that guy at work I told you about?”

I nod, remembering the way she lit up when she talked about him. Months of build-up, and I’d annihilated her big night.

“He finally asked me out. We were supposed to go to Carlo’s. But it’s fine. We rescheduled. He’ll still be single tomorrow.”

The guilt twists deeper. She’s been looking forward to this, and I ruined it without even trying. Typical Nicky, blindly careening through life, leaving destruction in her wake.

Exhaustion overwhelms me, and my head throbs from excessive drinking. After making an excuse, I escape to my room. It’s not really my room; it’s Sophie’s spare room, but it’s mine for now. After Joel and I separated, she was kind enough to offer me a place to stay, short term. That was months ago.

The room is pocket-sized. It’s the second bedroom in a modern, two-bedroom apartment in the city center.

There’s enough space for a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table.

That’s it. My clothes hang from every available hook, including the curtain rail and wall lights.

Most of my belongings were put into storage when I finally cleared out my old home.

There was nowhere to put them here. I really need to get my shit together and move out.

I need a job. I need a plan. I need… something.

Self-sabotage has become second nature. I scroll through old photos on my iPad. Joel and me at weddings, on vacations, silly selfies in the car. Smiling, arms around each other like nothing could touch us. We were so happy.

One night, I remember him coming in from work and sweeping me up into his arms. He told the music system to play Frank Sinatra, and we glided over the black-and-white tiles as if we were 1920s ballroom dancers.

What we had was real, filled with sweet moments and heartfelt promises. It’s been too much to lose.

Even so, after all this time, he won’t admit it. Won’t admit what he did with her.

His childhood friend. His mother’s right-hand woman.

I toss the iPad aside and lie back, staring at the ceiling. My mind churns. We’re divorced. It’s done. There’s no going back. I signed the papers. I made it real.

Even when he tried to stop me. Lying scumbag.

A soft knock on my door breaks the silence.

“Come in,” I call, voice wavering.

Sophie pushes the door open and comes to sit beside me. I move over, leaving her space.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asks gently. Hell, I love her. I don’t deserve her, but I love her.

“I went to the courthouse.” She nods, waiting, leaving space for me to speak. “I know I didn’t have to, but I thought… maybe it would give me closure. Only it didn’t. It made everything worse. I couldn’t breathe. So I left. And the only thing I could think to do was find a drink.”

Her gaze drops, the disappointment clear on her face.

“Over six years sober,” she whispers. “How could you throw that away, Nicky? Joel was beside himself when he called.”

I tense, surprised by her tone, almost scolding. “I didn’t ask him to come.”

Her eyes narrow. “Who else would get you?”

We stare at each other, the weight of that truth sinking between us. She’s all I have. And even she didn’t come.

“I’m sorry. Joel was already on his way when he called me.”

“It’s fine,” I lie. But it’s not. Having my ex-husband collect me from jail might be one of the most humiliating moments of my life. And that list is long. “I promise I’ll get my shit together,” I say. Sophie just nods. She’s heard it all before.

“No, really.” I push myself up, voice rising. “Tomorrow is a fresh start. Joel Parker can kiss my ass. The last six and a half years will not be a waste. The skills I learned in that family's business, they’ll be put to good use.”

Sophie bites her lip as if stopping herself from saying what she’s thinking. Her focus bounces between the ceiling and me.

“Just say it, Soph.”

“You won’t want to hear it.”

I shrug. “Say it anyway.”

She exhales slowly. “He didn’t cheat on you, Nicky. It’s in your head. He’s devastated. Probably more than you.”

My throat tightens. “How would you know? Have you been having heart-to-hearts with him? Watch out, he might have you on your back next.”

Her face hardens, eyes flaring. “Yes, I’ve spoken to him. Because he’s worried about you. Because he wanted to know you were safe.”

She leans forward, every word that follows sharp. “He’s crazy about you, Nicky. Always has been. Always will be. And you threw it away because you assumed the worst. He didn’t do what you think he did. Especially not with her. She’s like family.”

I say nothing.

Sophie softens, the anger ebbing. “I love you. But if you keep jumping to conclusions, you’re going to burn everything down. I know what happened before made it hard to trust. But Joel…” She trails off.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” I snap, coldly.

“That night has nothing to do with my failed marriage.” Tears fill my eyes and start to run down my face.

I’m angry at Sophie for questioning me, and angry at myself for almost believing her.

My marriage has not been lost on a whim or imagined scenario.

I wouldn’t have been so stupid.

“Nicky,” she says, taking my hands in hers as my sobs reduce to sniffles. “I want you to be okay, but I can’t keep rescheduling my life every time you crash out. You need to move forward. It’s been months. It’s time for you to take charge of your future.”

She presses a kiss to my forehead, squeezes my fingers, then stands and walks out.

I stare at the closed door; the silence wrapping around me. Maybe this is my new normal.