Billie knew he shouldn't have started again, but he rationalized it. Sips weren't a big deal. It wasn't anything to worry about. And anyway, it had only really been at New Years.
He'd grabbed the wrong champagne glass and had a taste and he knew he should have put it back down without another thought, but in another gulp he finished it.
It was the only one he had that night, though. And no one noticed. It was fine.
And, really, even after that it was just sips of Adie's wine. Billie didn't know how she could drink it so slowly. She'd nurse the glass after dinner while watching TV or reading.
It seemed like it took her hours to finish it although Billie knew he was exaggerating. But she never noticed when he took sips when she'd go to the bathroom or get up to get something.
Billie knew he shouldn't have been doing this, but it was easy. It was there. And – he knew this sounded fucking stupid – but sometimes he just missed the idea of drinking.
When things…a long time ago, before all of it happened, Adrienne had bought him this nonalcoholic beer and tried to encourage him to drink it more. But it wasn't the same.
It didn't taste the same – he didn't care what Adrienne said about how she couldn't tell the difference.
It didn't feel the same – even the fucking can in his hand felt weird, it just felt too small. He'd tried, he had and he bit his tongue instead of arguing with her about it.
When the case was gone she didn't buy another and Billie knew she understood, on some level, even if she wasn't happy about it.
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