Chapter 34

34 DRUNKASS SEB

SEB

“Sebastian, what divorce?” I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together. Shit.

Why don’t I even realize I blurt it out to mom? Dad will find it out. Williams will know, and they’ll eventually find out about Mackenzie and Abby. I’m screwing everything up.

Another disaster.

What have I done?

“Sebastian, son? Seb?” Dad’s voice appears on the phone.

Fuck me now! Of course, he’s with Mom, and the call is probably on the loudspeaker.

Abby won’t forgive me for this. I made a deal with her to keep this secret. Now she will make a divorce final.

“Yes, Dad. What can I do for you?” I roll my eyes.

“Did I just hear divorce, son?” Shit! And he sounds so interested.

“Yes, Dad. You heard it right. I’ll be a divorcé if I won’t do something,” I say annoyingly. I hope he gets the message. I shouldn’t have to call mom in the first place.

“You’re married? How did you get married without telling us?” Now the 20 questions. I roll my eyes again.

“Dad, I can get married without telling anyone. For as long as I have a wife, an official, and a witness.” Now, I’m annoyed, and I still have a hangover.

“I’m serious, Sebastian, and you’re being sarcastic.”

“I’m married to Abbygail King, happy? Her dad knew. Don’t worry, but now she hates my guts because I hide something from her. She kicked me out of her apartment three days ago.”

My dad laughs. He fucking laughs! And I’m tempted to hang the call on his face, but he’s my father, and no matter how annoying he is, I respect and love my old man.

“How did she kick you out, Seb? She’s something. Seb Hughes III has been kicked out by his wife out of her apartment. That’s funny, son. You must have upset her so much,” He mocks me.

“Yeah. It’s fucking funny, and the fact that she fucking hates my fucking guts that makes it funnier, and here you are fucking laughing at me.”

“Language, Sebastian. I raised you well, and this conversation is on hands-free, and your mother is listening.”

I growl with annoyance. “I apologize. I’m just so upset and you are making fun of my failure. She didn’t even reply to my messages or call me back. I lost options. I called Mom, hoping she can help me deal with this.” I want to pull my hair out of my head out of frustration.

“Tell us. What happened, maybe we can help.”

I told them everything from start to end. They’re my parents, and it helps a lot now that they understand my situation.

“Oh, poor Abby. Honey, give her a week. If she won’t talk to you, I will go to Boston myself and pay her a visit. Trust me, a woman like us always get along.” Mom is Mom, always supportive even sometimes she’s infuriating.

“Give her time, Seb. She suffered a lot. Of course, she has trust issues, and three people she trusted just lied to her, even though, it’s obvious that it’s for her sake, but it’s still upsetting. She feels betrayed. I need to talk to Mike. How could he keep this from me?” Dad seems determined talking to Mike. Abby won’t ever forgive me for this, and she’s going to hate me and throw me to a hell hole.

“Dad, Mike is going to hang me alive if you’d do that.”

“Oh, trust me, he won’t. You’re his son-in-law. I can’t believe you’re a married man. I’m proud of you, son.” That’s what I said before. He’s fucking proud of me if I’m getting married.

“We need to meet her if the dust is settled. Can you arrange that, honey?” asks mom.

“Sure, if she agrees.” Hopefully, I can win her back. “Thanks to both of you. I feel a little bit better.” But actually still far from better.

“No problem, son. We’re always here for you. And I want grandchildren.” Kill me now.

“Jesus, Dad. I don’t even know if she wants me back, and I don’t even know how to win her back, and now you’re asking for grandchildren?”

“Oh, C’mon, son. I’m already old. I wanna see them before I die.” Yeah, like I believe you’ll die soon.

“You won’t die anytime soon. You’re a weed.” They both laugh. “Gotta go. I love you both.”

After talking to my parents, I still feel hollow and sad. I rub my face. I check my phone, and I still find no message from her. I remember the picture she sent to me, our picture together at the Gardner. I open it.

She’s so beautiful—her eyes were vibrant and happy, her hair is a little bit messy, but it makes her look feminine, and those dimples were so deep that makes her look so ravishing. Her lips—those lips that I kissed senselessly, and those lips that are once all over me. God, Abby, what have you done to me?

I need another drink.

I take a bottle of whiskey from my minibar and pour it directly into my mouth. It burns my throat, but I don’t fucking care. I drink half of it and grab my keys. I take the bottle with me. I go down to my parking area and press the button on my key. Great, Aston Martin. I get in and drive out with no destination. I drink while I’m driving, and who cares when she doesn’t care. I press the screen on my GPS, and it leads me to my home.

I pass by beautiful scenery but not as beautiful as my Abby. God, I missed my baby, but I forget to leave her message today. And fuck I don’t my phone.

I’m already drunk when I notice a trail. I drive all the way there until I reach a clearing. I close my engine and drink my remaining whiskey. I open the window, and fresh air brushes my face. I inhale deeply and close my eyes for a while. I just want to think of Abby. It’s so serene here, and all I can hear are the crickets chirping and the wind blowing the tree leaves.

I belch.

This must be a good place to take her camping and make love with her in the tent. My cock throbs. Not the best idea to jerk off.

I get out of my car and start following the path. In my drunken state, I think of how we met, how she banters, her laughs, and how we made love. I think of every happy memory I have with her, and I smile and laugh like an idiot. Jeez, I had it pretty bad.

How long am I walking? And I’m a drunkass.

I lost track.

Belch.

I follow the path back, but it leads me to nowhere. I’m sure I follow it right. I realize that I don’t have a fucking phone and no wallet too. I tap my back pocket, and I don’t have money.

Poor drunk billionaire. I scratch my head. The bear will definitely tear me to shred, and my Abby will be devastated. Will she, though?

She’s still young to be a widow. No way. I will find my way back home. I always will because we’re still going to have a little Abby and a little Seb running around the house.

I’m lost.

I continue walking until my knees almost give up.

After for like an hour, thank god, I find the road. I sit on the street, hoping for a passing car, and maybe someone can send me home.

I’d been sitting my ass here for like another hour, and still no car. My ass starts to ache, and my legs are numb.

No car.

No signs of human.

Where am I? I’m so stupid. I start walking and follow the road that may lead me to my home or worst case scenario will lead me to some psycho killers. I don’t want to die without seeing Abby first. I want her forgiveness.

I’m sweating everywhere. I’m thirsty. Jesus, what I have done. My feet hurt, and my knees almost give up.

God must have punished me for what I’ve done, and for what I did to Abby. I continue walking until I see lights for a distance. Thank God. I know this place, and I run like a loser until I can’t breathe.

My home.

I bend down, holding my knees. I will never drink my ass again. To hell with my car. I get home safe, and that’s what matters. The security must be sleeping since they don’t have any idea I’m coming home.

After pressing some keys, the gate opens. I use the key that I picked up hidden in the fountain, and I know it’s the worse place to hide a key, but it works for me. Finally, I get to the main door open.

After drinking a lot of water to wash out the alcohol from my system, I go to my room, shower, and dress in a shirt and jeans, then I go down to my home office.

Shit. I remember how we talk, how I hold Abby’s hand and show her my cellar.

I go to my wine cellar after closing the liquor cabinet behind me and grab a bottle of the same wine I shared with her when I proposed. I pour the glass and toast alone.

“To me.” And I drink. I just promised that I wouldn’t drink again, and yet, here I am. I close my eyes when they feel heavy.