I always thought I was doomed by not being able to fall In love, but once I did fall, I wished I hadn't because the last two women I ever loved left me in a blur of rapid emotions; pain, regret, heartache, exhaustion, and most dominate of all, anger.

It had been four weeks since Hope left me.

Three since I camped in front of her house and begged for a chance to start over but got beaten up again by Scott.

Two since I decided to follow Brad's advice and visit her workplace with flowers and chocolates and a lot of fucked up shit just to apologize but still got rejected and reminded I was one step away from a restraining order.

And finally, one since I decided that...

"Mr. Fobster?"

I snapped back from my reverie and looked up from the white screen I'd stared so long at that my eyes burned.

Cleo walked in, holding the photocopies I'd asked for-or rather- yelled for.

Don't blame me. The anger that I'd been carrying around for these past weeks was physically draining and she just so seemed the perfect victim to rain down all that pent-up animosity on.

"Where would you like the copies, sir?" Her voice still had the broken undertone to it. I should've been apologetic but for all I care, the world and everything else in it could go fuck itself.

I returned my gaze to my computer. "Anywhere you see fit."

She dropped the photocopies on my desk and I returned to my screen, finally reaching for the keyboard to type but seeing as she was still standing on the other side of my desk staring at me, she left me little choice and forced me to acknowledge her even if I'd rather not.

"If you're hoping for an apology, you're not going to get it."

"That's not why I'm here, sir."

"Well spit out whatever it is you're here for and get it over with."

"The last five months working for you has been hell. You're a difficult man to work with, even harder to please. You're so domineering to the point that I want to stab you with the heels you make me run miles in every day."

I sighed. "Are you trying to get fired, Cleo? Because in about five seconds, I think you will have succeeded."

She smiled at me. "I'm sorry if I upset you but I just had to tell you that though you've been nothing but an asshole, I can't deny the fact that I have learned a lot from you." She inhaled deeply and placed a white letter on my desk.

My brow cocked up. "You're quitting?"

She nodded again. "I've arranged your schedule for the week and created a list of all your necessities for your next assistant. Hopefully, with it, she'd be able to last a month."

I clenched my fist underneath my desk. "Okay."

"But sir," She blinked at me as though expecting my reaction to have been different. Maybe it would've. Maybe if I wasn't swimming in the deep end right now with the endless worry of my wife or ex-wife or whatever, I would have asked her to stay because she was the only constant thing in my fucked-up mess of a life.

"Are you don't yet?"

Her brows scrunched. "Yes sir, I am but sir-"

"Well then, don't let the door hit you on your way out." I drawled and turned to my computer, very much aware that she was staring at me perplexed. At some point, she took the hint and exited my office.

For the next one hour, I sat there, still trying to compose the mail but I couldn't get past the heading because my mind was clouded with the memories of a woman I wished I could forget.

I couldn't think straight. It sickened me that she was not here, it sickened me that I had to go to bed every single night and wake up every single morning without her by my side. It was driving me crazy, even crazier now that she was just a month and some weeks away from her birth date.

Fed up with the entire process, I shut down my computer, grabbed my coat, and made my way out of the office.

I'd driven my black sports car today. I usually changed my car according to my moods and for the past month, it'd been nothing but black.

When I held the stirring wheel and turned on the engine, I didn't have a destination in mind, but of course, I ended up driving to my house. A place that, since Hope left, had become my personal hell.

I hadn't come home in days, usually, I lodged in one of the hotels close to the company. I couldn't handle it, there were just too many memories of her.

I parked in the garage and headed into the house, taking off pieces of my clothes as I did.

The living room was filled with her scent, her touch, everything but her presence, and I hated being here but I couldn't avoid it any longer, and as I walked into the kitchen, I was tortured with images of the way she looked whenever she cooked breakfast or rather tried to cook.

The last image I had of her flashed in my head. The one when I'd walked into the kitchen and caught her drinking goat milk in the middle of the night.

I shut my eyes and tightened my fist, trying to will the gut-churning ache away. Fuck. Enough already. I clawed my fingers through my hair and tried to squeeze thoughts of Hope out of my head and walked out, heading to the minibar for a much-needed drink.

I fished out the oldest whiskey I could find and poured myself a mega pint even though the day was still younger than noon.

The burn of alcohol slid straight to my chest.

I was very well aware that drinking wasn't going to take away my pain but as much as I tried to subjugate myself to just two shots, I ended up drowning the whole bottle, and it wasn't until I stood to go to the room an hour later that all of the alcohol really hit me.

Being drunk was never a sensation I enjoyed. It was something that I usually scorned. But tonight, it felt good.

I stumbled up the stairs but instead of walking the hallway to my room, I ended up walking into Hope's. It was just as she'd left it.

I stared at her unmade bed and the thought that she was never going to sleep in this bed again made my gut tighten, and a frenzied kind of madness gripped me as I picked up the flower vase by her bedside table and crashed it to the floor.

It broke, the pieces bouncing off into unseen corners.

It felt good.

I grabbed one of the novels she'd left behind and ripped out the pages before shredding it and letting it fall pitifully to the ground like dead leaves.

The book wouldn't do. I searched for anything breakable and ruined it, one by one, the next. And the next. All of them. Every memory, everything lucid dream, every fucking thing that made my heart thunder. I ruined it all and when I'd finally destroyed everything that could be destroyed, I stood, breathing heavily, and stared at the carnage on the floor.

It didn't work. I wanted to feel nothing but it didn't work. I couldn't escape her, I didn't even know if I ever could. I wanted to but every time I tried, my head felt like it was going to explode.

Why was it so hard, why did my heart ache so much?

I staggered down on her bed. Fuck, we'd had sex here. On the couch, too. Everywhere. I covered my face with her pillow and breathed in her scent. My eyes shut and I could almost imagine she was here, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me to a place where I didn't hurt anymore.