13. Sloane
Sloane
“ W hat do you think of this one?” I hold up the shower curtain and peer around the package at my phone, which I’ve propped up against a soap canister on a shelf at HomeGoods.
“I think,” Lo says, “that you’re dragging your feet rather than heading home because your husband asked you on a date.”
I pick up a second option. One with light blue waves. “Oh, I could do a beach theme.”
“Sloane’s is so not beach vibes.”
My shoulders sink. She’s right. My bathroom turned personal space is not beachy at all. So I pick up a pink one accented with black bows. “French? I always wanted to go to Paris. Sully promised we’d go for our ten-year anniversary.”
“Wasn’t that like a decade ago?” Lo teases.
Five years ago, but who’s counting? Certainly not Sully. He was too busy working his ass off to even remember.
“Ha ha. Laugh at me because I’m old,” I deadpan.
I regretted mentioning Paris the second the words were out of my mouth.
“Be careful. One day you’ll be old like me, and when you find yourself standing in the middle of HomeGoods, pregnant and wondering what you’re doing with your life, I hope you remember this moment. ”
“Wow,” Lo says, cringing. “That is oddly specific.”
I groan. “You’re right. That won’t happen to you because Cal is obsessed with you. You’ll never be at a HomeGoods trying to avoid him because he asked you on a date.”
“Ah-ha!” Lo says. “I knew you were being cagey.”
I snag my phone and lean against the shower display, hoping I don’t go down with it. “I’m not being cagey. I’m avoiding. I’m very good at it.”
She snorts. “Yeah, you are. But why are you avoiding?”
Hmm, let’s see. Because I liked the way my husband looked at me yesterday when he picked me up from work.
And I like that he always comes inside to get me.
That rather than just calling to tell me he’s in the garage, he parks and takes the elevator up, even knowing he’ll have to deal with not only the receptionist but Julius, who gives him constant shit, just so he can walk me down to the car. It’s… sweet .
Which is pathetic.
Such a simple gesture shouldn’t make me weak in the damn knees.
But God, does it ever. Even now, just thinking about it makes my legs wobbly.
So I drop to the scuffed beige floor and sit crisscross, ignoring the silk flower debris and glitter I know will stick to my pants when I find the energy to get up again.
“The anniversary was five years ago, by the way.”
Lo’s eyes soften. “You had a one-year-old. Sully had just made partner.”
I nod. Yes. While I spent my days changing diapers, Sully made partner. He chased all his dreams, while mine became more like distant thoughts. That’s about the time I realized I was no longer even a part of his dreams anymore. I was on the sidelines and he was out living his life.
At least that’s how it felt.
“There will always be something, Lo. Another big case, another milestone to work toward. That’s the problem.
When our tenth anniversary hit, we didn’t even have a conversation about it.
There was no oh, we’ll go eventually . Our plans turned into yet another discarded dream.
Tossed aside, forgotten.” I sigh. “Kind of like me.”
Lo shakes her head. “Nope. We’re not doing this. Yes, Sully sucked. But that’s not why you’re hiding.” She brings the phone closer to her face, glaring. “You’re hiding because you want to go on this date with him, and that scares you.”
I sniff and look away, surveying the shower curtain options again. She’s right, but no one likes a braggart.
The growly voice he used when Will insinuated that he wouldn’t be coming to the Christmas party almost did me in. The deep, commanding way he said my wife .
As I replay the moment, my pussy flutters to life like she’s hearing it again for the first time, and I clamp my slutty legs together.
“Actually, I don’t. It’s the opposite, really. Everyone at my firm knows we’re separated. Hell, half the legal community does, I’m sure. The last thing I want is to show up at the event with my ex and deal with all the staring.”
“Oh,” she huffs, “so you’d rather deal with being stared at while everyone you encounter wonders whose baby is in your belly?”
A shocked gasp escapes me. “Are you telling me I’m showing?
Oh my god.” I tuck my chin and assess my stomach.
Sure, I’ve got a little pooch, but I figured it looked more like I’d had a big lunch than anything.
Although really, what’s worse? Rumors that I’ve gained weight because I can’t stop snacking or rumors that I’m pregnant with my ex’s child?
Honestly, I don’t know.
“You’re pregnant, Sloane. Eventually, the truth will come out. And you’ll be what, twelve weeks by the time the party rolls around?”
I groan. She’s right. “I don’t think I should go.”
“No, you are definitely going.”
“Why? ”
“Because you’re determined to choose yourself for once, remember? You are no longer letting a man— any man—control you. You’re in charge of creating your own happiness, and you get to choose what you go after.”
When she puts it like that?—
“You’ve wanted to return to litigation, not just desk work, for years,” she continues before I can respond to her.
“And this Christmas party is a big deal. It’s where you can finally show your peers just how great you’re doing.
You are a professional, and being pregnant doesn’t mean you aren’t just as competent as your colleagues.
You can do it all. You can have it all. Because you are amazing. ”
“I am amazing,” I whisper-hiss, bringing my phone closer.
“Though maybe you’d be more amazing if you weren’t sitting on the floor in HomeGoods.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Pick yourself up, dust yourself off , and go to Neiman Marcus. Buy yourself a gorgeous dress—using your husband’s black card, of course—and enjoy what you’ve worked your ass off for. Stun the shit out of that man the night of the party. Remind him of just how incredible you are.”
“Or,” I say, my heart thumping, “I can buy the dress and walk into that party with my head held high without Sully.”
Her face falls. “What?”
I set my phone on the floor and tilt to one side awkwardly, forcing my legs to shift in the same direction so I don’t accidentally flash anyone my underwear.
I so shouldn’t have dropped to the floor while wearing a skirt.
With my hands on the filthy floor, I ease myself onto my knees.
Then I use a shelf to maintain my balance while I climb to my feet.
Finally upright, I snatch my phone and my purse from the floor, and the pink Parisian shower curtain from where it hangs on the shelf, and head for the checkout. “I could go with someone else. ”
“Pretty sure you’ve lost the plot, my friend.”
I shrug. “It’ll make me happy. And that’s my goal. To find happiness again, right ?”
She narrows her gaze at me. “It’s annoying being lawyered by everyone in my life.”
I giggle. “I’ll see you at home.”