26. Jack

CHAPTER 26

JACK

T he club's heavy bass-infused song bleeds into the next one, and the waitress brings another bottle of vodka to the table.

"How is everything, gentlemen?" She has to shout above the music, but her eyelashes still flutter seductively.

"Great." Owen gives her a thumbs-up, then leans in closer and says something right into her ear.

I look away. No doubt he's asking what time she gets off.

Which is great for him. I'm glad he's having a good time.

Me? I feel like absolute shit.

The weeks since Leah stood on my doorstep and told me she doesn't want to see me anymore have felt like I'm wading through mud. I can't seem to shake off the feeling of despair that's settled over me like a dark cloud.

I miss the connection we had. I miss the way she made me feel, the way she challenged me and made me want to be a better person.

But now that she's gone, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. I go to work, I hang out with Owen, I work out until I'm so exhausted that I collapse into bed.

It's all an attempt at distraction, and none of it actually works.

"Hey, man." Owen nudges me with his elbow. "You all right?"

I force a smile. "Yeah, I'm good."

But I'm not. I'm drowning in my own misery.

I take a sip of vodka, feeling it burn down my throat. Maybe if I drink enough, I'll forget about everything else.

But the truth is, I don't want to forget about Leah. I want her back. I want to feel her warmth against me again. I want to hear her laugh.

But I know that's not going to happen. We want different things, and that's a dealbreaker. I won't be sitting at home playing house, wasting my years away.

I take another swig of vodka, feeling the buzz spreading through my body. The music seems to ramp up, and it all becomes too much. The people. The noises.

I have to get out of here.

"I'll see you later," I shout at Owen, but he's too busy talking to a busty brunette.

That's fine. I don't want to explain my departure anyway.

Seizing the opportunity, I slip my hands into my jacket pockets and weave my way out of the club.

The cold air hits me like a brick wall, clearing my head of some of the fog that's settled in. I take a deep breath, allowing the crispness to fill my lungs and expand my chest.

The city is alive around me, with people hurrying to their next destination, taxis honking, and the distant sound of music spilling onto the street from other clubs.

I start walking, not really sure where I'm going, but knowing that I need to move. I need to do something.

But I already know it doesn't matter what I do or where I go. Leah will be there, lurking behind every thought.

How is she? How are the triplets doing? Does she have everything ready for them? Who will be there with her at their birth? Who will get to see their faces for the first time?

It's too much to handle. Swiping at my eyes, I take a seat on a park bench.

I sit there for a few minutes, staring at the news station across the street. The time and date flashes across the rolling screen above the door, and I freeze.

Today is the anniversary of my father's death.

I remember the day he died like it was yesterday. A heart attack ten years ago.

I was in shock, frozen. I assumed I felt grief, but as time went by I realized that I didn't actually miss him.

I missed the idea of him.

The idea of having a father who loved me and cared for me. The idea of having a role model to look up to and aspire to be like.

But my father was never that. He was distant, cold, and emotionally abusive. And I swore to myself that I would never be like him.

But now, sitting here alone on a park bench, tipsy on stupidly expensive vodka, I realize that my deepest fear has come true. I am my father.

A workaholic who has no time for anyone else. Including his own children.

The realization threatens to break me in two. This whole year, I've thought I was doing the right thing by distancing myself from Leah and the triplets. I was so sure the kids would be better off without me.

But who am I kidding? I didn't distance myself for them. I did it for me.

Because I've been fucking afraid. Afraid that I won't be the father they need or the man that Leah needs.

I've been a coward, and it makes me sick to my stomach.

But what can I do about it? I made this bed, and now I have to lay in it. Leah wants nothing to do with me, and I don't blame her. Standing, I slowly walk forward. I should get out of here. Should go home and get some sleep.

But I don't even want to do that. My house is marvelous, with every comfort a person could ever ask for. The problem is, it's not a home. It never has been.

I've spent my life chasing money and success, thinking that was all that mattered. Now, finally, I see that money can't buy true happiness. It can't buy fulfillment or love. Or a family that really cares for you.

Unfortunately, I'm seeing this too late. The greatest woman to ever walk the planet was briefly in my hands — but now she's slipped through my fingers, and I get to live with my mistake for the rest of my life.