Chapter 4 Taking The Drunk Boss Home (Part Two)

"Sit down before you fall over, Brandon. Please." I glanced at him.

"Alright," he whispered, sliding onto the edge of the breakfast counter.

I searched through cabinets and drawers until I found the coffee machine, then set to work making a pot of strong coffee. I poured two mugs-one for him and one for me-and sat across from him at the counter. He stared down at his hands, his face clouded with something heavy and sad.

"Brandon, are you okay?" I asked, my voice softening.

"No, I'm really not. I hate this house. It's too big and too empty. I need to leave. I just... can't stay here anymore." His voice was weighed down by sadness and defeat.

"Why couldn't I move on like she did, Emma? She moved on even before we ended things-so why am I still stuck? It's been six damn months, and I still feel like nothing but a shadow of the man I used to be." His voice trembled, anger and disappointment sharpening every word.

My chest tightened for him. The pain in his eyes was raw, and I would never wish that kind of hurt on anyone.

I reached across the counter and placed my hand gently over his.

"You loved her, Brandon. You still do, and that's why it hurts so much. It doesn't make you pathetic, not one bit. You just need more time. You'll get through this-maybe not today, but eventually. That's what being human means, and it's okay to feel this way. I promise, it won't last forever." I tried to smile, hoping it might help.

He let out a shaky sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you're right, Emma," he replied quietly, lifting his mug and taking a long sip of coffee.

A quiet settled over us, heavy but gentle. He drifted into his thoughts, probably thinking about everything he had lost and all the pieces he still had to pick up. I did not say another word. I let him sit with his memories until he finished the last of his coffee.

"I probably should head to bed," he said, pushing himself up from the counter but nearly losing his balance the second he stood.

"Come on, let me help you. Just tell me where your room is," I stammered.

"Thanks for looking after me, Emma. Would you mind coming by to pick me up before work tomorrow? I really don't want to call my driver. He'll give me another lecture about drinking too much, and I don't have the energy for that right now." He managed a tired smile.

"Of course," I responded.

We made our way to his bedroom together. As soon as we walked in, he peeled off his underwear and plopped down on the edge of the bed without a second thought. I tried my hardest not to stare, but I caught myself glancing before quickly turning away, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

"Emma, what if nobody ever loves me again? And what if I never fall in love with anyone else?" He looked up at me, his eyes full of uncertainty.

I walked over and sat beside him, turning so I could look at him clearly.

"That won't happen, Brandon. You will find love again when you are ready, and I truly believe there's someone out there waiting for you." I smiled, hoping to reassure him.

"I hope you're right. It just feels unreal sometimes. I'm thirty-two and already going through a divorce. That wasn't what I imagined when we got married seven years ago. By now, I thought we'd have kids, a real family. Instead, I'm just here. Alone. All I have left is work, Emma." The sadness in his voice made him seem even smaller than before.

I inched closer and set my hand on his knee.

"You will have that family someday, Brandon. When you meet the right woman, everything will fall into place. Darcy wasn't that person, because if she had been, you two would still be together."

"Maybe," he muttered, giving a tired shrug before stretching out on the bed.

"Is there anything you need, Brandon?" I asked quietly.

"Will you stay?" he asked.

His question caught me off guard.

That was the last thing I ever thought he would say. He looked at me with pleading eyes, and I could see just how much he needed someone there. I should have told him no, but I could not bring myself to say it.

"Please? I just don't want to be alone tonight." His voice was soft. "There are a few things in that drawer, if you need something to sleep in," he added, glancing toward the nightstand.

"Alright," I said, giving him a gentle smile. "But where exactly am I supposed to sleep?"

He gave a small, hopeful grin and scooted to the far side of the bed, patting the empty spot next to him.

"I'll just crash on the couch," I teased, nodding at the oversized sofa by the window.

"Fine, but I'm going to remember that." He stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout.

I let him sulk, but within minutes, he was already fast asleep. I slipped out of bed quietly, pulled the comforter over him, and gently brushed a hand across his cheek.

"You're going to be alright, Brandon," I whispered, hoping my words would be true.

I headed back to the kitchen and filled a glass with water for him. He would definitely need it when morning came. Then I searched around for a blanket and a couple of pillows to set up the sofa for myself. In one of the drawers, I found a plain t-shirt that would do for pajamas. I knew I probably would not get much sleep-staying overnight at someone else's place always left me restless. Mostly, I just hoped he would not be upset to find me there in the morning. With how much he drank tonight, there was a good chance he would not even remember asking me to stay.