He planted a tender kiss on my cheek before grabbing his coat. “I’ll be back early, promise. Don’t wait up.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
In Travis’ absence, I decided to make use of the time. Our living room still needed decorating, and I’d been meaning to put up the Christmas tree for days. I blasted some holiday music and began hanging the stockings and stringing up the lights. It felt good: that familiar warmth of Christmas filling the house.
Hours passed, and I had nearly finished decorating the house when I heard the front door creak open. Travis stumbled in, his step unsteady, and I could smell the alcohol on him from across the room. He wasn’t just tipsy; he was drunk.
