37
Sloane
Mom: I’m sorry I can’t be there.
Sloane: I really don’t blame you. It won’t be a long meal. I assure you that.
Mom : You inspire me, Sloane.
Sloane: Inspire you?
Mom: I should care less about what other people think. To put myself first. To be stronger.
Sloane: I don’t feel strong.
Mom: Oh, honey. But you are. And I will never regret sending you that message, because that day you learned how strong you can be.
From where I stand, I have a perfect view of Dad and Sterling sitting next to each other at a table by the window. They have their heads together and smiles on their faces, like two little kids whispering in class.
Small children.
That is precisely what they are. After spending the last two months in the presence of real men, I see the difference more clearly than ever. It has nothing to do with money or education or a person’s public reputation. It has everything to do with what’s inside.
Soul. Heart. Actions speak louder than words.
These two idiots can say whatever they want. I’m not going to fall into that anymore. I see through him.
For too long, I was a soft, demure little dove. And then they burned me. They singed me. Turns out I’m a dragon and I’m fed up with boys and their stupidity.
My shoulders lean back as I lean against the outside wall of Cartier, across the street from La Frontera.
I’m a little hungover today. Winter and I hit it off. It turns out we have more in common than I imagined. She’s fun and totally willing to drink too much cheap beer and lie on the floor with me.
I have to thank him for the suit I’m wearing and also for taking me to the city. I also have to wait for her as a neighbor in Chestnut Springs, because as soon as I’m done with this stupid shitty dinner, I’m going right back to that little house.
Where I belong. Where I feel myself. The rest I will figure out as I go, by myself.
And there is something liberating about not having rules. After a lifetime with a path and a plan laid out, I’m going to do… whatever I want.
I roll my shoulders once more, look up and down the four lanes of traffic, and step out onto the street.
Even jaywalking feels good.
I smile at the host and raise a hand.
-No, thanks. I already know where I’m going. -Without giving him the chance to respond, I walk past him and head to the table by the window where two of the men I least want to see are sitting.
I thought I’d be nervous, but I feel… elated.
“Dad, Sterling.
They raise their heads as if surprised to see me. Normally, a staff member would guide me here, but that’s exactly what I didn’t want.
“Sloaney…” Sterling looks at me from head to toe. You look very stern in that outfit.
I almost laughed. After months of ignoring him, that’s what he has to say.
-Thank you. I throw him a sarcastic smile before moving to the chair by the window, facing my father. As far away from Sterling as possible.
Dad’s eyes look at me, assessing me, and I wonder what he sees. I wonder if he realizes that I have lifted the veil and see him clearer than ever.
I do not hate it . It does not matter to me.
He used to tell me that he wasn’t angry, just disappointed in me. And that’s how I feel about him now.
Deeply disappointed. Because I will always love him. He’s always been someone I’ve admired, and to find out that it was all made up, or not true to his character, is disappointing. Knowing that another man in my life didn’t love me enough to get over his own shit hurts.
But it hurts less with my hair up, my nails painted blood red, and wearing a black pantsuit with shiny tuxedo lapels.
Winter was right. I feel ready to kick ass and take names.
“Happy birthday, Sloane,” Robert says, raising a glass of wine without offering me one.
I walk over and pour myself a large one. Another mistake in a place like this is not waiting for the waiter, or serving yourself too much like I just did.
But I’m tired of waiting for these men to do things right, and I deserve a jug of wine for being here.
“Thanks, Dad,” I finally respond after leaving them both hanging with their glasses in the air while I serve. Clearly neither of them is gentleman enough to offer it to me.
The glasses clink and we drink. I keep my gaze fixed on my father and purse my lips, savoring the wine. It’s expensive, but I prefer a Buddyz Best.
“When is mom coming?” “I take a look at the restaurant, but I know he’s not coming. He told me he wouldn’t come. Mom also told me that she found that video on Dad’s phone and sent it to me anonymously on my wedding day. I guess it was to blackmail me.
It seems like she and I came to our senses at the same time. It seems that Robert Winthrop has taken us too far.
She’s a little unwell today. It’s just the three of us tonight.
“Actually…” says a voice I didn’t expect to hear. My heart skips a beat in my chest and I lose my composure for a second. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion when I turn and see Jasper standing at the end of the table, looking stunning in a perfectly tailored suit, eyes on me and a smug smile on his lips. We’re going to be the four of us. He approaches me with authority, leans down and lifts my chin towards him, fixing his eyes on mine with a look of ferocity. Sunny, I’m sorry I’m late.
Late.
It’s such a simple feeling. But it warms me inside.
Is here.
All I can manage is to nod firmly, and he returns the gesture before planting a bristling kiss on my forehead and sitting down next to me.
My rock. My comfort. The boy with the sad eyes and the heart of gold.
I turn to him.
-Are you here. I look at the delicate Rolex on my wrist. Right now.
“We made a promise in that truck, remember? I can’t go without you again. Nothing is more important than being here with you. He touches my knee under the table and tilts his head at my outfit. You look stunning, by the way.
Nothing is more important than being here with you.
I swallow a few times, unable to take my eyes off the man in front of me.
The promise.
Is right. And I promised him too.
Jasper…
His hand squeezes reassuringly.
“The answer is yes, Sloane.
My head tilts.
-If that?
“I’ll take that bet.” All day. Every fucking day.
My eyes sting and I wipe away the moisture. I’m not going to cry here. I won’t let my father and Sterling find out about this moment.
When I look at the two men, the fury is evident on their faces.
“You are not part of this conversation, Gervais. -My father looks at him as if he could make him cower. But that power has slipped through his fingers, before his eyes.
Jasper leans back in his chair, smiles, and sits back.
“At least you’re right about something.” I’m not here to contribute. I won’t say a word. I’m just here to be with Sloane.