5. Sloane #2
He wears it slicked back, and today, there isn’t a hair out of place. His bespoke charcoal gray suit complements a body far more toned than it was during our days at Columbia. That’s one thing that has changed since law school; Will somehow got better-looking.
He smirks at me now. Or smolders, maybe, his eyes eating me up.
With my purse in front of me, he can’t see the stain on my shirt, but with the way he’s checking out my legs, I’m not sure he would have noticed anyway.
I’ve always had nice legs. Though my middle never returned to normal after my pregnancy, my legs give me an edge. They make me feel sexy.
It’s empowering, knowing I can affect a man like this. I have no interest in Will, and I never have. Even so, I like his eyes on me. When I’m the object of attention like this, I don’t feel like a single mom who’s failing at life. I feel like a desirable woman.
I drop my purse and nod. “Let me grab the file from my office and then we can head to court.”
Will’s eyes narrow on my breasts.
Okay , I may have liked the look of appreciation a minute ago, but his scrutiny is a bit too intense. Shoulders rounding, I curl in on myself a fraction, hoping that’ll deter him from staring.
“Why are you wet?” He drags his focus up to my face.
My stomach sinks. “Um, spilled tea in the car. I’ll get cleaned up quickly, and then we’ll go. ”
With a sigh, he checks his watch. “There’s no time for that. As it is, you’re late.”
The words are matter-of-fact. If I were a twenty-five-year-old male associate who’d just started at the firm, he’d be berating me. And I’d deserve it, to be honest. But we have a history, and because of that, he rarely treats me like the lowly associate I am.
Thank God for that, because if he yelled, I’d probably cry. And then I’d hate myself. Damn pregnancy hormones.
With a nod, I say, “I’m sorry about this.”
He shakes his head. “Not a problem. Get cleaned up. When I get back, we can grab lunch and I’ll fill you in.”
I force a smile and watch as he strides into the elevator, headed out to do my job for me.
Dammit. I was really looking forward to arguing this case this morning. I spent all last night prepping.
This is all Sully’s fault. If I hadn’t been drinking his damn tea, this wouldn’t have happened.
If I didn’t have to drive to Jersey so T.J.
could see his dad, I wouldn’t have been in my own car to begin with.
And if he hadn’t been such an ass for those last several years of marriage, I wouldn’t have been distracted by thoughts of what could have been.
I stalk past Julius, who gives me a once-over, a phone pressed to his ear, and shakes his head.
Yeah, I know I look ridiculous, but does he have to be so obvious about it?
The moment my office door slams shut behind me, I pull out my phone and call Sully. No one but him deserves to deal with this version of me.
“Is everything all right?”
No hello, no hi, sweetheart; how are you? Nope, this man’s only concern is that the incubator is adequately taking care of his heir.
“Everything is not, in fact, all right,” I grit out.
Sully sighs. It’s loud and gruff and, ridiculously, makes me want to cry.
He’s annoyed with me. I’m interrupting his day. It’s like déjà vu. I can’t count how many times I’ve found myself in this situation. Maybe I should hang up. If I never felt this way again, it’d be too soon. I don’t want to be a bother.
I just want someone to fucking care.
I swipe away a lone tear.
“What happened?”
Annoyance flares to life inside me, choking out the self-pity that’s been trickling through my veins. “What happened is I spilled the disgusting tea you bought all over me while driving to work. Now I don’t get to go to court, and it’s all your fault.”
“Are you okay? Did you burn yourself?” he asks, his tone slightly elevated.
Oh, now I have his attention.
“I’m fine, and don’t worry, the incubator protected your baby. The car bore the brunt of the spillage. I basically dumped it on the center console to keep from injuring myself or your progeny,” I grumble, wiggling my mouse to wake my computer.
He makes a choked sound. “Did you make sure the car wasn’t smoking?”
The frustration that’s become a constant when I see, hear, or even think about this man mixes with confusion.
“Why would it be smoking? I’ve never smoked, and now you think I’d pick up the habit while I’m pregnant?
” I may hate my soon-to-be ex-husband, but I love our child. I would never put him or her at risk.
“No, Sloane,” he says, his tone patient. “The car. Where did you spill the tea exactly?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Below the radio area, where I plug my phone in.” Sully’s responding sigh has me pushing back from my computer with a grunt. “The freaking car is not smoking.”
“Maybe not, but it’s worth checking. Otherwise, you’re liable to burn the entire building down.”
My vision goes red as I absentmindedly click on folders on my computer screen. I hate him. God, I freaking hate him. If he were here, I’d run him over with my car. Back it right over his stupidly good-looking face. Then he wouldn’t sound so smug.
“Why don’t we go check, then?” I say in a high, placating voice.
Chin lifted, I disconnect the call. I’m too annoyed to listen to him any longer. Then, phone in hand, I stalk back out of my office, heading toward the elevator.
Julius pushes back from his desk and scurries after me. “Where are you going? Shouldn’t you be in court?”
“Should be, yeah,” I call over my shoulder without slowing.
He follows me to the elevator, and as we pass one glass wall after another, each one leading into another associate’s office, no one spares us a glance.
Every one of them is absorbed in their work. Meanwhile, I’m acting like an incompetent fool. All these twenty-somethings have their lives together. They show up at the crack of dawn and don’t leave until late into the night.
I, on the other hand, stroll in here late and leave early. This is just one more reminder that I don’t belong.
I hit the elevator button aggressively as Julius steps up beside me, fixing his jacket.
“What is happening? And why were you running through the office?”
I grin. “Couldn’t keep up with me?”
“People should never run in Louboutins or Tom Ford, darling. Now tell me why you broke the rule.”
I glance down at my rose-gold shoes, cursing myself for putting them on this morning. Every time I wear them, something absurd like this happens. First the pregnancy test, now the tea incident and the car on fire.
I snort. The car is definitely not on fire. My husband is so dramatic.
“Because I spilled my tea and my ex thinks my car could be on fire. I’m rushing so I can prove to him how dumb he is.” I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t care .
Julius raises a styled blond brow. “Is it on fire?”
My expression flattens out. Is he fucking serious? “Of course it’s not.”
He shrugs as we step onto the elevator. “I hate when they mansplain.”
Validated by that response, I relax against the back wall of the stainless-steel box. “Exactly.”
“But what if it is on fire?” Julius muses.
“It’s not.” I stab at the button for the garage.
With his hands in his pockets, he leans against the wall beside me. We’re silent as we descend, and we remain that way until we make it to my car. The one that clearly hasn’t burst into flames. “Ha.” I point at the SUV and hold up my phone.
The screen is filled with missed call notifications. It buzzed in my hand the whole way down here, but I ignored it. Now, I navigate to Sully’s contact and tap the FaceTime icon. While I wait for him to accept the request, I climb into the driver’s seat, grinning. See? It’s perfectly fine.
When Sully’s face finally appears, I stab the icon that activates the camera on the back side of the phone so he can see that everything is as it should be.
“Jesus, Sloane,” he says. “I’ve been calling you nonstop.”
With a roll of my eyes, I grasp the charging cord plugged into the console. I must have forgotten to plug my phone in last night; the battery is dangerously low. “What was the point of arguing before I could show you that the car is fine?”
“Uh, Sloane,” Julius says from the other side of the open driver’s door. He points past me, his eyes wide.
From the phone, Sully curses. “The console is sparking! Where the mobile is plugged in. It’s smoking. Get out of the goddamn car.”
Instantly a cloud of smoke engulfs me, making my eyes water. Shit.
“Sloane, get the fuck out of the car,” Sully booms .
“Right. Uh, sorry. I’m just so confused.” Coughing, I step out of the car.
Unsure of how to handle the situation, I leave the door open. I keep a firm grip on my phone, but I can’t back too far away since it’s still plugged in.
“Are you okay?” Sully asks, his tone still elevated. If I didn’t know my husband so well, I’d think it was panic rather than just anger.
Julius yanks the cord from my phone and lets it fall to the ground.
Realizing all Sully can see is the concrete beneath me, I flip the camera again. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, but the alarm is quickly edged out by frustration when I notice that he’s not even on screen. No, where his image should be, all I find is a black screen.
It shouldn’t surprise me. The man is an expert multitasker. Why would that change when he’s on the phone with his wife, whose fucking car is on fire?
“I don’t understand,” I mutter.
“You shorted the circuit and now it’s overheating,” he explains, clueless to my true concern here. The man really doesn’t give a shit, does he?
“It’s a new car.” I keep my tone even, hoping that’ll keep me from getting emotional. I can rely only on myself. I know this.
“Brand-new cars can still be wrecked,” Sully grunts out.
“But how will I get back and forth to New Jersey?” Fuck, I hate my life.
He’s silent for a beat, then, “You’re moving in?”
“God, Sully, focus.”
“I am focusing. I’ll buy you a new fucking car,” he grouses.
“Right, because that’s how you handle every problem. Throw money at it and hope it goes away.” I hang up, wondering why I bothered to call him to begin with.
“I think we should shut the door,” Julius says, pacing.
He stops at my side again, and we both peer into the car. The interior is still smoky, but it’s hard to tell whether the console is still short-circuiting. It could be what’s left from that initial spark .
“Step back,” he says, turning in a circle, like he’s looking for help.
My phone chimes, and on instinct, I lift it to check the display.
Sully. Of course.
Sighing, I accept the FaceTime request, but when I’m met with a black screen again, I grit my teeth. “Sully, I’m busy dealing with this car. I don’t have time for your dramatics, and clearly you don’t have time for them either.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re busy. The damn phone is obviously facedown on your desk while you work and try to deal with me. Well, I’m not your problem anymore. Don’t worry about me, I’ve got this covered.”
The dark screen is replaced by a blurry image I can’t make out. After a second, Sully’s crazed face appears. “I had the mobile on the seat because I’m driving.”
“Where?”
“To you,” he mutters, the lines on his face deepening.
“Why?”
“Because, sweetheart, you are my problem. Nothing matters more than your safety, so before I get into an accident because I’m preoccupied with worry, would you please get away from the fucking car? And stay away until I get there to deal with it.”
My mouth hangs open. Forget the car; I’ve short-circuited.
“Sloane, please ,” he begs in a tone that pulls at my heartstrings despite how badly I don’t want it to.
“Oh, baby daddy is having a meltdown.” Julius breaks into a smile and snatches the phone from my hand. “I’ll take care of her. Should we leave the door open or closed?”
“Caesar,” Sully grits out. “Just turn the bloody car off and get her out of there. I don’t care what you do with the door.”
“Right.”
The screen goes dark, the line disconnected, but his words echo in my head. Nothing matters more. I blink once, then again. Is that really true ?
Another tear slides down my cheek as the words settle in my heart. Shit. This is so not my day.