Forty-six days.

As Stryker gazed at the calendar, he could barely believe it.

Forty-six days since he had first taken Jamie home.

Forty-six day that he had been sober. It wasn't easy; there had been days when his will power had been in the shitter and the only thing that had prevented him from guzzling away his achievement was the pair of grey eyes that seemed to follow his every movement.

It wasn't easy. It was perhaps one of the hardest things that he had ever had to do. Accepting the pride he felt over himself wasn't easy, but he forced himself to accept some degree of satisfaction.

Forty-six days....