Fifty Two

LIAM

I swat at the alarm clock on the table next to my bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and wondering if I look as bad as I feel. I really tied one on last night. We had a concert in New York City and the boys and I went out to party afterwards. My head is pounding as I reach for the glass of water and Tylenol on the bedside table, greedily gulping them both down.

Next I check my phone, just as I have every morning since she's been gone. At this point I'm not sure what I'm expecting to find besides more disappointment.

There are a couple of texts from Ty telling me to get my ass up for the Rolling Stone shoot in a couple hours, the one we were supposed to be doing with Delilah, but still nothing from her. I haven't seen or heard from Delilah since the Christmas Eve party from Hell. You'd think by now that I would be used to the way Delilah ghosts me, instead of dealing with our problems head on, but here I am. Alone and miserable, again. Maybe that's my punishment for ghosting her