Scandalous by Missy Johnson

remotely good in my life.
    I’m standing in my apartment, staring at the half-empty bottle of scotch I have sitting on the kitchen counter. Drinking: it’s what I do when things get hard. It’s the only thing that comes close to drowning out all the memories. But as time passes, my body has become immune to the effects of the alcohol. It takes more and more to numb my mind.
    My last moments with Beth run over and over in my head. The look on her face when I told her I’d been lying to her gutted me. I was convinced that leaving was the best thing I could do for her, even if it meant sending her right into Coop’s arms.
    “For fuck’s sake, stop with the pity party already,” I mutter to myself. Everything that’s happened is my own fault. Crying over how hard done by I’ve been isn’t going to change anything. If I want things to be different, then I need to fucking grow up and take responsibility for what I’ve done.
    I should’ve told her everything. She deserves that, at least.
    Picking up the bottle, I walk over to the sink and upend it, watching as the amber liquid spirals down the drain. I feel enriched about this now, but give me half an hour and I’ll be cursing myself for wasting a good bottle of scotch.
     
    I wake up sprawled out on the couch. It’s pitch black. My mind takes a moment to register the events of the last twenty-four hours and I feel like passing out again. The sound of the doorbell startles me. I get to my feet, stumbling my way toward the sound of the ringing, barely able to make out the shapes of the furniture in the dark. Finally, I make it to the door. I flick on the hall light and turn the handle. I have no conception of time, except that it’s either late or really early.
    “Beth,” I mumble. She is the last person I expected to see. I reach up and rub my forehead, my hangover preventing me from thinking too hard. My head is pounding and the glow from the light is hurting my eyes.
    “Can I come in?” she asks, her voice quiet.
    I stand aside, letting her sweep past me, the smell of musk and roses hitting my senses. God, I miss her …
    “Can I get you a drink?” I ask.
    She shakes her head and waits until I lead her into the living room. Her eyes dart down my body, then she blushes. I glance down, realizing I’m only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. Her reaction is cute, because she’s seen me in much less than this.
    “Let me make a coffee,” I say, motioning for her to sit down. As much as I need the caffeine hit, my real reason for wanting one is to buy me some time. Whatever she has to say, I want to get in first. I want to tell her everything. But first, I have to get my head straight.
     
    As I wait for the machine to warm up, my thoughts wander to her and Coop. I left her with him after all but ending our relationship. My stomach tenses as I begin to panic. What if I’m too late? What if that piece of shit moved in on her the second I was out of the picture?
    Calm down. You can’t think like that.
    Only it’s easier said than done.
     
    I carry my cup into the living room, where Beth is sitting down, waiting for me. She’s holding a photo, and I realize it’s one of the few photos I have of Anna. My heart pounds as she looks up at me, tears in her eyes.
    She knows. How the hell does she know? I sit down, trying to calm the thundering in my chest, but it’s no use. I’m on the verge of a full-on panic attack.
    Carlos . He had to have told her.
    “Roman—”
    “No, please,” I interrupt, holding my hand up. “I need to speak first.”
    She nods, her eyes meeting mine as she waits for me to speak. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, my hand resting on my forehead.
    “When I was in college, my girlfriend got pregnant. My parents decided it was best if I marry her, because having a child out of wedlock was a huge issue for both my family and hers. So we got married, even though neither of us were in love, and our daughter Anna was born.”
    I pause,