Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Ashley
I sat on the couch, the TV flickering with some late-night show I wasn’t watching.
The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, and I hugged a pillow to my chest, waiting for the sound of Troy’s key in the lock.
He’d been coming home late a lot lately, and I didn’t mind so much when it was work keeping him.
His new project had him stressed, and I got that.
But tonight, like too many nights this week, I could smell the beer before he even stepped through the door.
The lock clicked, and he stumbled in, his jacket half off one shoulder. “Hey, Ash,” he said, his words slurring just enough to make my stomach sink. He kicked the door shut, louder than he probably meant to, and tossed his keys onto the table. They skidded across and hit the floor.
“You’re drunk again,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I stood up. “Troy, it’s Tuesday.”
He waved a hand, flopping onto the armchair. “Yeah, yeah. Had a couple of drinks with the guys after work. No big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’ve been out every night this week. If it’s work, fine, but this? You reek of a bar.”
He leaned back, rubbing his face. “What, I can’t unwind? I’m busting my ass at the office, Ash. Cut me some slack.”
“I do cut you slack,” I said, stepping closer. “When you’re late for work, I don’t care. But this doesn’t work. You’re stumbling in here wasted, and I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”
He looked up at me, his eyes glassy but sharp. “You’re not my mom. I don’t need a lecture.”
“I’m not lecturing,” I said, my voice rising. “I’m asking you to not come home like this every damn night. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing’s going on,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m just living my life. You should try it sometime.”
I stared at him, feeling the heat climb up my neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He smirked, leaning forward. “You’re so wound up about your flight attendant thing. Maybe I’m just practicing for when you’re not around. Getting used to it. You know, serving myself, hanging with the guys.”
I froze, my hands dropping to my sides. “Are you serious? You’re getting drunk every night because of my job? That’s your excuse?”
“It’s not an excuse,” he said, standing up, swaying a little. “It’s reality. You’re gonna be gone, flying around, serving other people. Why shouldn’t I do my own thing?”
“Because this isn’t you doing your own thing,” I said, pointing at him. “This is you being a jerk. We talked about this. I thought you were okay with me working.”
“I was,” he said, his voice getting louder. “But then I thought about it more. You’ll be off with pilots and passengers, and I’ll be here. Alone. So yeah, I’m figuring out how to deal.”
“By drinking?” I snapped. “That’s your big plan? You’re not even trying to make this work.”
“I am trying,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re the one leaving. You don’t need that job, Ash. I told you, I can take care of us. But you’re too stubborn to listen.”
“I’m not stubborn,” I said, my chest tightening. “I want something for myself. You used to get that. Now you’re just mad about it.”
“I’m not mad,” he said, but his jaw was clenched. “I just don’t see why you’d pick that over us.”
“I’m not picking anything over us,” I said, my voice cracking. “You’re the one making it a fight. Every time we talk, it’s this again. I can’t keep doing this, Troy.”
He laughed, short and bitter. “What, so you’re done? Just like that?”
I swallowed, my hands shaking. “Maybe I am. If you’re gonna keep throwing my job in my face and coming home like this, yeah, maybe I’m done.”
His face changed, the smirk dropping. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I said, stepping back. “I love you, Troy, but this isn’t working. You’re not okay with me, not really. And I can’t keep pretending it’s fine.”
He stared at me, his mouth opening, then closing. “Ash, come on. We’re engaged. You’re just mad right now.”
“No,” I said, twisting the ring off my finger. “I’m not just mad. I’m tired. Tired of you making me feel guilty for wanting something. Tired of waiting up for you to stumble in.” I held the ring out, then threw it at him. It hit his chest and clattered to the floor.
He flinched, looking down at it. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” I said, my throat burning. “I love you, but if this is always gonna be an issue, we’re better off stopping now.”
He didn’t move, just stood there, staring at the ring. “You’re breaking up with me over this?”
“I’m breaking up with you because you’re not the guy I said yes to anymore,” I said, turning away. “I’m going to bed. We can talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”
“Ashley,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t do this.”
I didn’t answer. I walked to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
My hands were trembling, and my eyes stung, but I didn’t let myself cry yet.
I grabbed my duffel bag from the closet and started shoving clothes into it, t-shirts and jeans, whatever I could reach.
The tears came then, hot and fast, and I wiped them away with my sleeve, trying to keep moving.
I pulled my phone out, scrolling to Riva’s number. She picked up on the third ring, her voice sleepy. “Ash? What’s up? It’s late.”
“Hey,” I said, sniffing. “Can I stay at your place for a while? Troy and I, we just… I need somewhere to go.”
“What?” she said, sounding more awake now. “Oh my God, yeah, of course. What happened?”
“We broke up,” I said, zipping the bag shut. “He’s been coming home drunk all the time, and we fought again about the flight attendant thing. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said. “Get over here. You can crash as long as you need.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice wobbling. “I’m packing now. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay, drive safe,” she said. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. You okay?”
“Not really,” I said, grabbing my keys off the dresser. “But I will be. See you in a bit.”
I hung up, slinging the bag over my shoulder.
The apartment was quiet now, no sound from the living room.
I opened the bedroom door and peeked out.
Troy was on the couch, head in his hands, the ring still on the floor where it landed.
I wanted to say something, anything, but my throat closed up.
I loved him, I did, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I slipped past him, grabbing my purse from the counter.
He didn’t look up, and I didn’t stop. The front door clicked shut behind me, and I hurried to my car, the night air cold against my wet cheeks.
I tossed my bag in the backseat and started the engine, my hands gripping the wheel too tightly.
The streetlights blurred as I drove, tears slipping down my face, but I didn’t pull over.
Riva’s place was only twenty minutes away, and I just needed to get there.
When I pulled into her driveway, the porch light was on, and the door was cracked open like she’d promised. I grabbed my bag and stepped inside, dropping it by the couch. Riva came out of the kitchen, her hair messy from bed, holding two mugs of tea.
“Hey,” she said, setting them down and pulling me into a hug. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing a little through the tears. “I feel like it.”
“Sit,” she said, nudging me toward the couch. “Tell me everything. Or don’t, if you don’t want to.”
I sank onto the cushions, wrapping my hands around the mug. “It’s a mess. He’s been drinking every night, coming home late. We fought about my job again. He keeps saying I don’t need to work, that I should stay home. I threw the ring at him and left.”
“Damn,” she said, sitting next to me. “That’s a lot. You sure about this?”
“Yeah,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I love him, Riva, but he’s not okay with me doing this flight attendant thing. It’s like he’s punishing me for it.”
“He’s an idiot,” she said, sipping her tea. “You’re gonna kill it out there. He should be proud.”
“I thought he was,” I said, staring into my mug. “But not anymore. I just need some space.”
“You’ve got it,” she said, patting my knee. “Stay here, figure it out. I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” I said, managing a small smile. “I owe you.”
“Nah,” she said, leaning back. “You’d do the same. Now drink that tea and crash. You need sleep.”
I nodded, taking a sip. The warmth helped a little. Tomorrow would suck, but tonight, I was here, and that was enough.