Step Bride: A Bad Boy Mob Roman(76)

I briefly wondered what Chelsea was up to but decided against calling her. Chelsea had just moved into my neighborhood and was also starting a new job at a law firm downtown. She wasn’t a lawyer, at least not yet, but she was working as a legal research assistant and was doing pretty well. I loved Chelsea more than anyone in my life. Even a few years ago, when things were pretty dark and I was struggling to make it through the day, she was there for me. When other people from those days slowly drifted away, she stuck around, no matter what. There was only one other person like that, but I hadn’t talked to him in a while.

Yawning, I climbed my stoop, unlocked the front door, and walked upstairs to my apartment. At the sound of my keys in the lock, I heard Petey run up to the door excitedly.

“Okay, Petey, don’t jump on me,” I said, pushing the door open.

Petey was a big black lab, three years old, and a rescue. When I got him from the pound, he was a skinny little thing, but over the last year I had rehabilitated him back into shape. He wagged his tail, excited to see me, sniffing my body and running around me.

“Hi, Petey,” I said, petting his shoulder and moving into the apartment. I pushed my door shut behind me and looked around, sighing.

My place was small but comfortable, the best I could afford on a new teacher’s salary. Clothes were draped over almost every surface, and I was thankful that Petey hadn’t ripped anything up. I felt bad leaving him alone all day, but I stopped by the apartment on my lunch break to take him for a quick walk. I ruffled the hair on his side and patted him as I walked farther into the room.

“Okay, Petey, feeling bored?” I asked him. He sniffed at me in response, running around in circles. He knew it was almost time for his nightly walk.

“Just a second, bud, let me get settled,” I said.

Living alone could be hard sometimes, but Petey made it better. Anyway, it definitely beat finding some strangers on Craigslist, or living with Chelsea. I loved her to death, but she was a slob, and that said a lot coming from me. Plus, she was allergic to dogs, and I couldn’t imagine living without Petey.

I dropped my bag on the couch and walked into the small bedroom, Petey nipping at my knees. I changed into more comfortable clothes, yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. I went back out into the kitchen and grabbed a yogurt, pulling off the tab and taking big mouthfuls. Petey was practically having a seizure from anticipation, his tail wagging like crazy. I grinned at him as I finished my small meal.

“Okay, bud, walk time,” I said, and he went nuts.

I picked up two plastic bags from the small container I had on the kitchen counter and pushed them into my sweatshirt pouch. I grabbed his leash from the small wooden pegs I had nailed up next to the front door and looked at him.

“Sit down,” I said. He obeyed, tail wagging like mad. I knelt down next to him and fastened the leash onto his collar.

“Okay,” I said as I opened the front door. He excitedly went out into the hallway and stood there, tail wagging, as I locked the door. I grinned down at him.

“Let’s go over to the art museum today,” I said.

We walked down the steps and pushed out into the cool evening air. I looked down the empty block and started to walk north toward the river.

As we moved along the sidewalk, my thoughts drifted back toward college and the friends I’d lost. I wasn’t sure why, probably because Richie’s older brother reminded me so much of the guy I hadn’t spoken to since we graduated. There was something about the way he held himself, with such easy confidence and grace, and how quickly his cocky smile appeared on his face. Even when that guy Liam was trying to do his best parent impression, he still seemed like an arrogant, caged animal. But like my old friend from school, there was something more to him, something I didn’t really understand.

Back then, I was an addict. Well, I was still an addict, but I was recovering one day at a time. I was two years clean, and although I had slipped a little on going to meetings regularly, I still made it a point to get there at least twice a month. Without AA, I don’t know where I would have been. More importantly, without my friends encouraging me to get help, I would never have even found the courage and the desperation to get help. I was a mess, popping pills and snorting coke and who knew what else, barely sleeping and failing all of my classes. It took one horrible night, one blacked-out and dark moment to force me to turn my shit around, but I did and I never looked back.

It all felt so long ago, but talking with Liam had dredged those memories back up. They weren’t all bad, though they mostly were. More importantly, I had made it, I had survived those awful years. I had been on the path to self-destruction, but I took control of my life and surrendered myself to the program.