Page 97 of On the Line
Happily ever after wasn’t in the cards for them anymore; he knew that. He had most likely known it all along, in some deep, dark corner of his mind that he actively chose to ignore.
And so, the clean break had been the only logical choice, the only thing that was going to get him through this.
The only thing that would ever allow him to fully move on from Alexandra Monroe.
Now...
Oneyeartotheday after Mitch got traded, Lexie woke up and poured Bailey’s in her coffee.
She followed that up with a Bloody Mary.
By noon, she had switched to beer, and by dinner time, she was taking pulls of tequila straight from the bottle.
She had turned her phone off, wanting to mourn the anniversary of the death of her relationship in peace.
She really should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
The pounding began shortly after seven that evening, and Lexie experienced an acute sense of dejá vu. Had she lived this before? She must have, but she was too drunk to remember when.
Lexie didn’t bother getting up to answer the door, already able to guess who would be standing there and knowing full well that person had the code to get in.
Seconds later, a series of beeps followed by the loudsnickof a lock opening sounded through the apartment.
“Lexie, so help me God if you’re dead in there, I’m going to kill you!”
“That makes exactly zero sense,” Lexie said as Berkley stalked into the living room, where Lexie was seated on the floor, takeout containers from four different restaurants spread out in a semicircle around her.
“Thank God,” Berkley breathed when she laid eyes on Lexie. “I was having flashbacks to this time last year.”
“This time last year?” Lexie asked, though she knew exactly what Berkley was referring to.
“Don’t play dumb with me, missy,” Berkley said, stalking across the room and collecting an armful of beer bottles. “You may be drunk, but you’re not stupid.”
“What are you doing here?” Lexie asked.
“We couldn’t get a hold of you!” Berkley yelled from the kitchen over the sound of clinking glass as she settled the bottles in the recycling. “So I wanted to come check on you.”
“Why?”
“Lexie…” Berkley said as she re-entered the room, gaze softening. “I miss him too.”
Lexie held up her hand, barely holding the tears at bay in her inebriated state. “Don’t. Don’t talk about him. I can’t do it. Plus he’s back in your life anyway.”
“It’s not like I spend time with him. The Warriors are about to go on a Cup run. Brent is never home. He and the boys, including Mitch, are always at the rink,” Berkley said. “But like…you can’t keep doing this.”
“Don’t lecture me right now, please,” she said. “When you and Brent broke up, you survived on red wine and chocolate for like a week. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
Berkley held her hands up in surrender. “I said what I needed to. I really came over to see if you want some company.”
“If you can keep your mouth shut and the judgmental, pitiful glances to a minimum, I’d love some.”
Berkley mimed zipping her lips closed and throwing away the key. Lexie shook her head.
“What are we watching?” Berkley asked.
“Love is Blind,” Lexie told her. “I’m just drunk enough to find it interesting instead of depressing as fuck.”
Berkley laughed, then turned on her heel and left the room. The fridge door opened and closed, the tinny sound of a bottle cap bouncing on the counter following swiftly behind. Berkley came back in with a beer pressed against her lips and sat on the couch behind Lexie.
