Chapter 29
Eloise
Things for Sloane have been moving at lightning speed, while I feel as if I’ve been walking in mud ever since everything went down with Roman, so it’s weird to walk into Sloane’s house to find her on the floor of her living room, completely frozen.
It unsettles me, and I go into hyperactive mode, while she stares blankly at the tablet in her lap. “You’re freaking me out a bit, Sloanie,” I say, straightening up, folding blankets, and putting pillows back on couches. “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t answer until I’m right next to her, a tiny purple sweatshirt in my lap that belongs to Livie. “We’re selling the house.”
I blow out a breath. “That’s… Full steam ahead.”
She holds out the tablet to me. “I’ve been looking at apartments.”
I take the device from her, scrolling on it for a few seconds, then hand it back to her. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Probably hasn’t.
“Trevor’s pissed because I want to wait until after the holidays to tell the kids,” she says, and I don’t know what to do or how to fix this.
Her life is being turned upside down. Micah’s and Olivia’s lives will be turned upside down, and all he can think about is that they’re not moving along fast enough?
“I think you’re right to wait. I don’t know anything about real estate, but I feel like putting a house on the market right now isn’t the best time.”
She sighs, rolling her head side to side as if she’s got a kink in her neck. “That’s what I said, but he knows best.”
“He knows shit.”
She huffs a sad sort of laugh. Progress. “I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to tell my parents. You know how they feel about him. What am I gonna say when he doesn’t show up on Christmas? Sorry, Trevor can’t come, he’s fucking his girlfriend.”
I shrug. “Might as well.”
She bends her knees and sets her elbows on them to hold her head in her hands. “This is a mess.”
I rub her back. Sloane’s good with messes, but this one is a little too big to clean up, and I offer what I can. “It is a mess, and I hate that he’s not helping you clean it up, but I will.” I lean my head on her shoulder. “I love you.”
I feel her cheek settle on my head. “Love you too.”
After a minute passes, she sits up and blinks a few times, clearing the glassiness from her eyes and stands, taking Livie’s sweatshirt from my hands. “Tell me about something else. Distract me.”
I follow her to the kitchen, where she fills up the dishwasher. “I decided I’m making chocolate pecan pie and pumpkin tarts for Thanksgiving.”
She snatches away the dish towel I’m playing with to toss it into a basket along with other dirty cloth napkins and towels. “Riveting stuff.”
“There’s not much else to tell,” I lie as I trail her to the laundry room, and it’s such a shame they’re selling this house.
Well, it’s a shame Trevor’s a cheater, and the least he could do is let Sloane stay in the house.
My best friend was the one who made this house a home.
It could be featured on HGTV. A fever dream of Joanna Gaines, all farmhouse chic in the middle of a college town in a Philly suburb.
“You’re such a liar,” my best friend says, tossing the kitchen towels into the washer. “You look like shit.”
“Oh, real nice.” I open the dryer to remove the clothes from it. “Why the hell are you still doing Trevor’s laundry?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbles, grabbing a thick plastic hanger from the bar on the wall like she might use it as a weapon. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.”
I throw Trevor’s white undershirt on the floor. “Well, don’t do his laundry should be number one on the list. Don’t do anything for him.”
She stabs the hanger into one of his button-down shirts.
“I just need to make it through to the end of the year.” She tosses the shirt and hanger to the floor before jamming her fingers into her hair.
“I found a lawyer, and she said I’ll be able to receive alimony, but you know how much I make.
It’s not a lot, and I’m worried about staying afloat with the kids. ”
“Has he said anything about custody?” I ask carefully, and she shakes her head a few times then bends to pick up the clean clothes from the floor. Because my best friend doesn’t throw tantrums.
I wish she would.
I think she’d feel better.
Once everything is in the basket, she takes it in her arms and turns to me. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
I bite my lip, afraid to pile my drama onto her when she has so much stuff going on, but as if she can read my mind, she says, “I need to focus on something else, so give it to me. Why do you look like a feral prairie dog?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Prairie dogs are adorable.”
“Also Micah’s latest fascination. They can run up to thirty-five miles per hour and have complex communication like dolphins and chimps.”
I make squeaky noises, and Sloane pauses mid-stride. At her confusion, I tell her, “I’m a prairie dog.”
She coughs a laugh. “That is not what prairie dogs sound like.”
I trail her back to the living room. “Then what do they sound like?”
“Not like that.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t know.” I proceed to search YouTube on my cell phone for a video and turn the volume all the way up. I wasn’t too far off from their barking call. “See?”
“See how you’re changing the subject? Yeah, I do.”
I flop on the couch and take two of Micah’s socks out of the basket to continuously roll up into a ball, only to unroll. “I don’t want to tell you.”
She folds one of Olivia’s T-shirts. “Why not?”
I set down the folded-up socks. “Because you have your own stuff going on, and I’m not gonna pile on my stress.”
“Why not?
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” I ask in an imitation of Regina George.
She throws a pair of superhero underwear at me, and I laugh, tossing them on the growing pile of folded clothes. I reach for another pair of socks, these purple and belonging to Livie, and I heave out a sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”
I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the mess I’ve found myself in. “So, Roman and I… You know it was getting intense there, and the other night I told you we were gonna go out, but when he showed up at my house, we…”
Sloane raises her brows when I trail off then fills in the blank. “You fucked instead?”
“Yes!” I throw myself to the side. “But it wasn’t just fucking, it was making love.”
“Making love,” she teases in a high-pitched voice. “Roman with the anaconda dick makes looooooove.”
I giggle because, of course, I already filled in my best friend on the important details. Like length and girth and how he likes his nipple piercings played with.
“It was amazing,” I say, covering my flaming face with my hands. “Like, never ever, ever felt that way before.”
Recalling that night, remembering how confident and safe he made me feel, and how I thought he loved me the same way I love him, I start to lose all my good humor.
It takes me a long time to recover, and Sloane waits patiently as I gather myself.
She’s always been a good listener, and I’m grateful for that now more than ever.
“I told you that I reached out to Amy,” I say quietly, and she nods. “But I didn’t ever tell Roman.”
Sloane stops folding the laundry. “Oh, Ellie.”
I sniff. “I know. I know. I just… I didn’t want to bring it up if nothing ever came from it.”
She shakes her head, clearly reiterating what I already know—wrong decision.
“So what happened?” she asks, sitting down next to me so I can put my head in her lap. While I stretch out, she plays with my hair. “I’m assuming he found out?”
“We missed our reservation, so he went out to my kitchen to order food, and he saw my mail. I didn’t even know Amy had written me back. He didn’t say anything about it, didn’t tell me he saw it or read it or anything. He just left. Walked out.”
“Walked out of your apartment?”
I toy with my necklace. “Mm-hmm. I guess it serves me right for reading his mail. Getting into his business.” I take a deep breath that hiccups in my throat, and I’m close to losing it again.
“He didn’t respond to any of my texts or calls, and then when he finally talked to me the next day, it all blew up. ”
“Blew up like an argument?”
“Kinda.” I rub at the stinging in my nose. “But not really. He was angry, and I got angry, and…” I blink a lot, attempting to stop the tears before they start. “He basically threw my family back in my face. Said I shouldn’t be trying to fix his family when I have problems with my own.”
Sloane sucks in an audible breath. “Ouch.”
“I’m a big girl,” I say between sniffles. “I can take it. I know I have stuff to deal with, and I know he was lashing out at me because I hurt him, but…”
“It’s hard to hear it said out loud,” she fills in, and I nod.
“Yeah, and even more because I love him.” I force myself up, repeating to my best friend what I’d told Roman. “I love him.”
And then I break down, crying into her shoulder. It takes me a minute to pull myself together enough to apologize to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you with this. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
She shakes her head. “You’re my best friend. You could never be a burden to me.” She takes my hand in hers. “I’ll always be here for you, like you’re always here for me. I’ll help carry your load, like you help to carry mine.”
Her words make me cry even harder, and she hands me the tissue box before standing back up to finish folding the kids’ laundry. “So, what are you going to do?”
I rub at my wet eyes. “I don’t know. I want to be with him, but I don’t know how to prove that to him.”
Once she’s finished her task, she eyes me carefully.
“Maybe you can start by proving him wrong.” When I frown at her, she flicks her hand out toward my cell phone on the coffee table.
“You told me you loved how he stood up for you at the wedding. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself. Stand up for him.”