When the doorbell rang, Xander considered leaving it. Then he briefly considered shooting whoever was on the other side. If he couldn’t drown himself in whiskey due to the possibility of being called in to handle an emergency, he should at least be able to be left alone to drink his beer and mourn the life he should’ve had—would have had, if not for his father. He’d taken a f*****g vacation day for it.
The bell rang again.
He thought about hurling his bottle of Corona, but that’d be a shameful waste of beer.
If it was Kennedy, he wasn’t ready to see her again. His stomach turned at just the thought of the look on her face when she’d said she didn’t matter. How the hell could she believe that? He’d told her flat out there’d been no one else.
If it was his father, he had a fist he’d happ
