The door to my office slammed open waking me up. I tried unsuccessfully to shake off the hangover drunk driving through my head.

Squinting, I tried to see past the headache that was censoring my vision. My ex-wife followed her bodyguard inside. She was still pretty and he was still ugly.

“Oh it’s you.” I growled. My lips tasted sour. Bitter.

“Of course it’s me. We have a meeting today and I don’t care what kind of night you had last night, but you’re not canceling on me again.” She said.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Nine.”

“A.M.?”

“Yes.”

I had only gotten two and a half hours of sleep, no wonder I felt lousy- and drunk. The alcohol was still in the ring fighting my liver.

“Look, we should do this tomorrow. I-”

She threw a manila envelope at me cutting me off.

“I want full custody of Samantha. All the documentation is inside. I’m sorry I had to do it this way but you kept putting me off. This is all your fault.”

They left and didn’t close the door behind them, a gaping wound bigger than me.