I Never Let You Go (I Never 3)

Umm, yes, but I don’t say that aloud.

“Was your Lauren radar going off or something, or did you call for something important?” she taunts.

What was I calling for actually? Thinking of Lauren made me forget entirely.

“Okay, I was just kidding on that whole radar thing. Finn?”

“Right, sorry, I lost my train of thought for a second. Can you add another loaf of texas toast? I just checked, and we need more.”

“Texas toast, got it. Anything else?”

Run after Lauren and ask her to join us for dinner. “Nope, nothing else. Thanks for doing this.”

“Not a problem. See you at home.” She hangs up, and I’m left wishing that Lauren was here sitting on the counter, leaning over, waiting to taste the sauce

just like we used to. It was really just an excuse for me to kiss her. Making this dish won’t be the same as when we made it together, but I’m finally feeling myself enough to make it. I guess having Lauren back in my life has done that.

Five months.

152 days.

3,650 hours.

219,000 minutes.

13,140,000 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since my father took his last breath. Today he would have been fifty-three years old.

Kelsey took off work today to be with our mother. They both asked me to come along to the cemetery, but what was the point? I have a daily reminder that he is gone; I am that daily reminder. I would never have taken over Reynolds Contracting had he not died. I am trying every day to walk in his shoes. I don’t need to see the physical proof of the dates on the headstone to remind me that he’s gone. Seeing the first date would hurt even more knowing what came after the dash.

I could have taken the easy way out today and called out of work as well—I am the boss after all—but I chose to come into the office and focus on something other than the loss.

My phone vibrates on my desk for what feels like the millionth time today.

Kelsey: Dinner at moms at 6. It would mean a lot to her, to all of us, if you were there.

When I notice the clock strike five, I relax back into my chair. I have just enough time to go home to change and make it to my mother’s, but instead, I find myself turning off my computer and walking to the nearest bar.

I take a seat as the bartender walks over.

“Hey, handsome, what can I get you?” The busty blonde leans over the bar, her tits on display. Any other man would be daydreaming about smothering his face or sliding his dick between them, but not me. There is only one woman I want to do that with.

“Bourbon, neat.”

She pushes off the bar and goes about fixing my drink. When she places it down, I waste no time picking the glass up and chugging it back.

“You can just keep ’em coming.” I slam the glass down.

“Rough day?” she asks as she brings the bottle over, refilling my glass.

“Something like that.” I’m not really in the mood for small talk. If I were, I would be sitting at my mother’s house right now, not on my way to a significant hangover tomorrow.

After the second one I throw back, I decide it’s best to savor the next few.

My phone vibrates again. I flip it over to see my sister calling for the third time. I ignore the call and flip it back over.

“Seems like someone really wants to get a hold of you.” The bartender points in the direction of my phone.