one last log on the fire, he stood up and dusted his hands off on the front of his jeans. Marriage didn’t agree with him. Bachelorhood sounded far more appealing.
He opened a kitchen cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Jameson. Hell, two years with Miriam and he could accept life as a hermit. Amber liquid spilled over several ice cubes. Lifting his glass, he relished knowing she didn’t approve of drinking at home alone. “To life without a woman and impending freedom.”
He downed the entire glass, and enjoyed the burn coating his throat. Even as he set the empty tumbler down, his grandmother’s voice echoed, scolding him. She would have been right too. It was one thing to live as a bachelor, another, as an idiot. “Christ. I shouldn’t have let her go alone.” He grabbed his coat and Blackberry then headed out after Maggie.
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