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I watch my words kill all the hope she had in her eyes when she marched out here and wish I felt bad for the way they hurt her. Her shoulders sag, and her jaw tenses as a single spark turns into a full-blown flame. And standing there, with those soft black curls cascading down her back contrasting perfectly with the angelic white of her dress, she looks more like the woman I fell in love with than she has in years.
“So you plan to treat me like this for the rest of our lives?”
Both of my hands turn into fists, and I shove them into my pockets as I step into her orbit. Her scent floods my nostrils, the same fruity, floral notes from a lifetime ago making my stomach churn.
“I plan to do you a favor and forget you wasted my time with this pointless conversation. Let’s just call it my wedding gift to you.”
Her lips part, and I can see all the things she wants to say scrolling across her features like a billboard. Reading her is second nature to me at this point, like blinking or taking my next breath, and I know every word her response will contain before she says them.
“You’re such an asshole, Dominic. I don’t know why I ever thought we could be anything more than what we are right now.”
With a swish of her skirts and a withering glare, she twists on her heels and marches away. I watch her go, wondering how I’m going to survive the rest of my life with the weight of all the things I dreamed of being with her threatening to crush me.
.
22
Sloane
Now
“There isn’t anything to tell, Mom. You were there for half of the date! You saw how it went.”
I’m speaking through clenched teeth as I slam my front door behind me, which can only mean it’s time to hang up the phone because the next step is screaming at the top of my lungs that I don’t want to talk about my date with Ash Strickland.
Not with Mal, who spent the entire day insinuating that I made Ash leave early last night because I wanted to jump his bones.
Not with Mama, who found out about me dating through her big mouth daughter and was surprisingly supportive even if there was a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.
And most definitely not with my mom, who still hasn’t apologized for the horrible things she said to me at dinner last week.
Apparently, she thought seeing me out with Ash last night meant I was finally taking her advice and getting under a new man to get over my dead husband, and I’ve spent the entire drive back to my house dodging her invasive questions when I should have been using that valuable time to think through what I’m going to say to Dominic tonight when he picks me up for dinner in less than thirty minutes.
I planned on using the day to get my mind right and maybe call Dr. Williams to ask another hypothetical question about the best way to convince your husband’s best friend to fuck you five ways to Sunday, but Mama and Mal decided to turn breakfast into a full day of activities: shopping, nail salon, lunch at Twisted Sistas and then an afternoon of massages and gossip.
We had an amazing time, but now I’m struggling to make it in the house and freshen up before Dominic gets here. I’ve only heard from him once today, a text to tell me to be ready at six and to leave my panties at home, and I’m more eager than I’ve ever been to be in his orbit again.
“Well forgive me for caring about your love life.” My mother continues, ignoring the tension in my voice. “I didn’t even realize you were dating again. Especially with the fit you threw at dinner the other night.”
“Going on a date doesn’t mean I can’t be upset about you minimizing my grief over the death of my husband.”
She scoffs. “Sloane, please stop weaponizing your therapy phrases to make me the villain. My comment about your behavior at Eric’s funeral was simply my opinion. I can hardly see how that’s relevant to our conversation about your date with Ash.”
“We’re not having a conversation, Mom. You’re asking inappropriate questions and giving me advice I didn’t ask for.”
My phone buzzes in my hand. I pull it away from my ear to see a text from Dominic lighting up my screen, and my heart cuts a flip in my chest.
Dominic: Be there in 15.
“Sloane Elise! I don’t know when you got to be so rude and unappreciative of me, but I am not going to tolerate it anymore. Please call me when you remember how to be the respectful young lady I raised you to be.”
Now it’s my turn to scoff. The closest this woman has gotten to raising me was raising her hand to sign the check for the revolving door of nannies she kept on staff so she didn’t have to bother caring for me. Still, there’s a note of pain in her voice that tugs on my heartstrings. The ones she knows how to pluck better than anyone else. I grit my teeth. I can practically feel the apology her tone has elicited gathering on my tongue.
Guilt trip activated.
“Mom.” I sigh, pulling several deep breathes through my nose. “I’m sorry for being short with you, but I meant what I said. My love life, past or present, is not up for discussion.”
The words burn as they tumble out. She owes me an apology, but here I am feeling bad about snapping at her. Just another day with Lauren Carson as a mother.
