Cold Coffee

Chapter 21

Ironically, it began to torrential downpour on my way home - the windshield wipers barely helping my vision of the road since my eyes were blurry with tears. I didn't even bother to try and shield myself from the rapidly falling drops as I walked into the house, in no particular rush. Honestly, I was mentally exhausted from yelling and crying - I just wanted to sleep.

I pushed the door open and dragged myself up the stairs, peeking into the nursery. Emma jumped at the sight of me, and I was unsure if it was from surprise that I was home earlier than expected, or she was startled at my ungodly appearance.

"Sydney!" she gasped, clutching her chest. "You startled me," she said with a slight chuckle.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"What are you doing home so early? And where's Harry?"

"There was sort of an… issue, if that's how you want to put it. He's still at the wedding." She nodded, carefully standing up, handing Sophia to me. "Thank you for watching her, Emma," I said as sweetly as my frazzled state could manage, handing her the money I owed her.

"Any time, Syd. Get some rest, okay?" I nodded, the concerned expression on her face as she waved goodbye proved that she knew something went wrong. 

I sighed and sat down on the rocking chair, silent tears rolling down my cheeks as Sophia drifted to sleep in my arms. I lifted her into the crib and squeezed my eyes tight, a teardrop falling and landing on my foot. I quickly ran to my room and stripped out of my drenched bridesmaid's dress and threw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats before reentering the nursery. I sat back down on the rocking chair, moving myself back and forth at an even pace, reducing my racing mind to a much more relaxed motion, and I felt my heavy eyelids begin to shut.

Two hours later, I jumped awake at the sound of a door slamming, followed by heavy foot steps up the stairs.

"Shit shit shit," I said under my breath, gathering myself and walking into the doorway. A drunken Harry stumbled down the hallway, a sly grin evident on his face.

"Hi baby," he slurred, placing his hands on my hips. I pulled out of his grasp, causing him to stumble forwards before barely regaining his balance.

"Harry you're drunk," I said sharply, gritting my teeth as I backed up to protect the crib.

"Where's my little Sophia? Daddy wants to say hi," he attempted to say clearly, but his words were just jumbled together; if I didn't know any better I would have guessed he was speaking jibberish.

"She's asleep, Harry, let her sleep," I insisted, but he continued dragging himself closer to where I was standing. "I said let her sleep," pressing my hand to his chest. I began to lead him backwards into our room, telling him to change and get some rest. He obliged and shut the door behind him. My exhaustion from the day was catching up to me as I stepped down the stairs, forced to make myself comfortable on the couch, where I would spend an almost sleepless night.