Chapter One
Cameron
Sloane flung the car door open and stepped out, her movements sharp with fury. The door slammed shut behind her with a crack that echoed down the street. I sat frozen for a heartbeat, watching her stride toward the house, her heels hitting the pavement in hard, angry strikes like the start of a battle.
I scrambled out and hurried after her.
“Sloane,” I called, but she didn’t stop or even glance back.
I picked up my pace, reaching the steps just as she nearly slammed the front door in my face. I slipped inside and followed her down the hall, straight to our bedroom.
“Sloane...” I said again, softer this time, watching as she kicked off her shoes and stormed toward the bathroom.
“Stay away from me, Cam,” she said, her voice trembling as her fingers fumbled with her earrings. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
I took a step closer but kept my distance.
“I’m sorry.”
She let out a shaky breath, half-laugh, half-sigh.
“Yeah... and what the hell is sorry supposed to fix now? It’s fucking pointless.”
“I really am,” I said softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”
She gave a bitter little laugh, setting her earrings down in the small bowl on the vanity.
“Well, I shouldn’t be so surprised, should I?” Her voice was tight. “You’ve been gone from this house for a month. That says enough, doesn’t it?”
“The reason I left was because we kept fighting, Sloane. I’m so tired of it.”
She stilled, her hands resting on the edge of the vanity, her eyes finding mine in the mirror, but she said nothing.
“I’m tired of the silence between us. Of turning our backs on each other in bed like strangers. Of saying just enough to keep up the act for our daughter’s sake, not ours.” I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “And tonight, at the gala... I couldn’t keep pretending. I’m tired of lying. That’s why I told you.”
Sloane straightened slowly, her fingers rising to her throat as if something there ached.
“Good for you,” she said quietly. “Good for you for being honest.”
She turned to face me. Her black dress moved with her, elegant and fluid, catching the soft light in a way that made her look breathtaking. She was beautiful tonight. Devastatingly so. And I couldn’t deny that something inside me pulled toward her.
I still felt it, the invisible thread that had always existed between us, taut and straining. She had been everything to me once, and some parts of me, stubborn and aching, knew she always would be.
But love wasn’t enough anymore. We weren’t working. The fight we once had, the spark that used to pull us back from the edge, was gone. And maybe, if we were honest, it had been gone for a long while.
“I heard what you said in the car,” she said, her voice steadier now, gaining strength with every word. “You’re in love withsomeone else. And it’s been happening for a while.” She took a slow breath. “Three months, wasn’t it?”
“I never said I love her,” I said softly. “But I care about her deeply.”
She asked quietly, “What’s her name?”
“Evie Moore.”
Sloane mumbled Evie’s name, then bowed her head and shook it slowly.
“Do you live with her now?” she asked, lifting her head to meet my eyes.
I shook my head. “I still have the studio apartment I rented.”
