Chapter 5
My eyes followed Sloane's every movement—her face, her laughter, the way she spoke animatedly to the boutique owner about the wedding dress she wanted.
I caught myself smiling without meaning to.
But the moment her gaze flicked toward me, I straightened, erasing the expression from my face, lips falling back into neutrality.
She excused herself and walked over, leaning close as her eyes dropped to the brochure in my hands. "Have you found anything that interests you for your suit?" she asked, flipping the page, then the next.
My eyes, though, stayed fixed on her face. "Sol," I murmured.
She hummed, distracted, her fingers brushing the glossy page of a spread lined with gowns and tailored suits. When she finally looked up, our eyes locked, and the nearness stunned us both. She quickly leaned back, putting space between us.
I let a faint smile escape. "You know... you don't really need someone else to design your wedding dress."
She scoffed. "What now? Should I just buy something ready-made?"
"Not that." I bit my lip, gathering courage. My hand trembled as I reached for hers, pressing lightly against it. "I... I have an exclusive design. Something I never released in any couture lineup. It's at my place. I thought maybe... it might suit you."
Her brow arched. "You designed a wedding dress?"
"Yes," I whispered, letting go of her hand. "It's an old design, but... it made me think of you. I think it would fit your taste."
Her lips twitched, unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she shut the brochure and set it aside. "Well. I suppose I'll have to see it, then. You are the creative director, after all. Wait outside—I'll finish speaking with the owner."
I nodded and excused myself, stepping outside. My gaze lingered on Sloane through the boutique window before drifting to a gelato stall nearby. My brow arched in recognition. That brand. That flavor. I glanced back at her, then to the stall. "Maybe she'd still like her favorite."
I joined the line, waiting patiently until it was my turn. "Hi," the staff greeted warmly. "What can I get you today?"
"Two raspberry rose—" I stopped, rubbing the back of my neck. "No. Just one salted caramel and vanilla bean, and one dark chocolate and red wine."
"What was I thinking?" I sighed to myself. Raspberry rose... that was our flavor. Back then.
"Anything else?"
"No, that's all," I handed her my card. She swiped it, returned the receipt, and I stepped aside to wait.
"Ro?"
Her voice pulled me around. Sloane was walking toward me, curious eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"
"Ordering gelato." I shrugged.
"Two raspberry rose gelatos!" the staff called out.
Sloane's head turned toward the counter, then back to me. Her lips parted. "Wait, did you—" Before she could finish, a man appeared and collected them. Her shoulders eased. "Oh."
"Salted caramel with vanilla bean, and dark chocolate with red wine!"
I retrieved the cups, showing the receipt, when I got back to Sloane's spot, her eyes had followed the couple with raspberry rose.
"Do you want that flavor instead?" I asked softly, leaning closer.
She stepped back, cheeks coloring. "Why are you so close?" she hissed.
I smiled faintly. "Your eyes were on them." I handed her the salted caramel and vanilla bean. "Here. Still your favorite? If it's changed, I can—"
"This is fine." She shrugged, staring down at the gelato. "I still like the same flavor." She glanced back at me, lifting her cup in a small toast. "Thanks."
The smile she gave me was real. It hit deeper than it should have.
"No problem."
We walked to a bench and sat—her at one edge, me at the other. The space between us felt like twelve years of silence.
"Have you prepared your vows?" Sloane asked at last, shifting a little closer but keeping space between us.
I paused, meeting her gaze with a small smile and nodded. Long ago. For her. Because she had always been the one I wanted to marry—even if I lost her. I just couldn't.
She chuckled. "Do we even need vows? We're just two exes marrying for wealth. It's not like we love each other."
My chest tightened. "Is that really all this is, Sol? Just business?"
Her eyes darted toward me, the spoon brushing her lips.
"The prenup says no divorce," I went on. "So maybe... we could try starting over."
"You've got a screw loose, Ro," she muttered, stealing a scoop from my cup without asking.
I let her. She always did that.
She groaned dramatically at the taste, shaking her head. "Still bitter. Figures."
And, just like before, I laughed. Same reaction. Same her.
She turned, eyes catching mine. I swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the corner of her lips where a smear of chocolate lingered.
"Sol," I whispered, reaching out to wipe it away with my thumb.
She froze, blinking at me. The air thickened between us. Slowly, I leaned in, waiting for any sign from her. When she gave none, I leaned closer still—about to kiss her—
"Why don't you try this one?" Sloane interrupted, sliding her spoon into my mouth.
I blinked as she pulled back, cheeks flushed.
"Sweet, right?" she teased, scooping another bite and offering it again.
"Yeah," I muttered around the spoon, eyes never leaving her face. "Sweet."
And in that moment, after twelve long years, I realized just how much I'd missed her.
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Stepping into my crafts room, I ushered Sloane inside. Her eyes roamed the space, fingertips grazing the wooden shelves. I bit my lower lip as I watched her move, remembering when she used to spend hours with me here back when we were still together.
"Right," I began, rushing toward the desk where I kept most of my private sketches. I tugged open a drawer and pulled out an old sketchpad. "Here are the raw sketches." I handed it to her.
She accepted it and began flipping through the pages.
"Also, do you mind if I change clothes? I'll be quick." I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to sound casual.
Sloane glanced at me, eyebrow arched, then shrugged, her attention sliding back to the sketches. "Suit yourself. It's your house, after all. I'll be right here."
"Okay." I stepped closer, my hand half-reaching toward her cheek, before I froze. She looked up at the same time, blinking, and our eyes locked. For a moment, neither of us moved. My throat tightened, and I pulled back, swallowing hard. God, was I about to kiss her?
Turning away, I fumbled with the doorknob, my hand trembling. "Just... wait here," I muttered before slipping out.
I rushed into my bedroom, panting as I shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I clutched my chest, a bitter scoff slipping past my lips. "Stop acting weird, Aurora. She'll hate you if you keep this up..." I whispered, dropping my bag onto the night table before heading into the bathroom.
I took a quick half bath, then slipped into my robe. Pausing at the mirror, I froze.
My lips twitched at my reflection. A sigh escaped as I dragged my fingers through damp hair. "You look exhausted," I muttered, clicking my tongue as I cupped my cheeks. "It's fine. Everything will be fine. Your ex helped you... things are falling back into place."
Walking out of the bathroom, I went straight to my wardrobe and slipped into undergarments, then layered on a thin silk camisole, a cream quilted cashmere cardigan, and champagne-beige wide-leg silk trousers.
In front of the full-length mirror, I fastened a delicate gold locket around my neck. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I combed through my hair, gathering it loosely and tying it with a low silk scrunchie at the nape of my neck. A few strands fell loose at the sides, but I didn't care.
Phone in hand, I left the bedroom and headed back to the crafts room where I had left Sloane. Knocking lightly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Sloane sat on the couch, dabbing at her face. A teapot and a plate with a sandwich rested on the table.
"Did you wait long?" I asked, moving closer.
She glanced up, the faint pink at the corner of her eye betraying her. She smiled softly, shaking her head. "No." Her gaze slid back to the sketchpad in her hands.
My eyes darted to the space beside her—and froze. Panic coiled in my chest. I snatched up the small stack of photographs, hiding them behind my back. But I knew she had seen.
Her scoff cut through the silence as she closed the sketchpad and rose to her feet. Her eyes pinned me, sharp and unrelenting. My throat tightened.
"Why hide the pictures when I already saw them? And why keep them at all?"
I swallowed hard, fingers trembling against the photographs pressed to my back. She was the same woman I had loved—familiar yet changed, hardened into someone I barely recognized.
I kept those photos because they were the only tether to the choice I'd made. The only reminder of what I had lost.
"Because... I forgot to throw them away," I lied.
Sloane twitched her lips and shrugged. "Then you could throw it away," she said, nodding toward the trash bin nearby. I pulled my hand from behind my back, staring down at the Polaroid pictures I'd kept all these years. They were ours.
"I don't want to," I murmured, lowering my head. My hands trembled as I shuffled through them, one by one. We looked so happy back then—I was happy with her... and I missed it.
A sigh—a single, deliberate sigh—escaped Sloane as she snatched the photos from my hands. "If you won't, then I will," she said, moving toward the trash bin.
"No!" I lunged forward, gripping her wrist and twisting her back toward me. I snatched the photos away. "Don't, Sol. Don't throw these away."
She laughed bitterly. "Aren't you creeped out? Twelve years, Ro. We broke up twelve years ago, and you're still clinging to this?"
Her words cut deep. My voice dropped. "They're mine. Not yours. You don't get to throw away what belongs to me."
I shoved the photos back into the desk drawer, slamming it shut.
Sloane crossed her arms, glaring. "So, what is it? Guilt? You didn't bother tossing away our little souvenirs, so now you're pretending it's nostalgia?" She laughed, sharp and humorless. "That's not you. You were always good at walking away."
"You're right," I admitted, stepping toward her. "Maybe it's guilt... or maybe it's something else." I lifted her chin gently to meet my gaze. "Sol, we're here to look for your wedding dress, not to relive the past. It's not worth it, right?"
I gave a faint smile and stepped back, turning toward the hidden door leading to the dressmaking room. My hands hovered over the controls when her voice stopped me.
"Is it fun?" Her voice cracked like a whip. Bitter. Accusing. "Did you have fun, Aurora?"
I froze.
"You must have enjoyed yourself. Four years of 'relationship'—oh, no, it wasn't a relationship for you. I was just a bed warmer, a fuck toy you used whenever you were bored or needed release."
Her words hit harder than any slap. "You must've enjoyed that... and then, when you were done, you just... threw me away. At my lowest point."
I turned, mouth open to protest, but the pain in her eyes stopped me cold. The same anguish I saw twelve years ago.
"Sol..." I whispered, taking a step toward her, but then my shoulders sagged. It was my fault. "Sol. It wasn't like that. You don't understand."
"Understand what, Aurora? What's there to understand?
" she laughed, stepping closer and grabbing the neckline of my cardigan.
"I understood everything you said twelve years ago.
Crystal clear. A DeLacroix like you? Born with a silver spoon?
You wouldn't step down for someone beneath your lifestyle. And here I am... an easy target."
Her words scalded. The truth she thought she knew.
No. I wanted to protest, but I couldn't. I forced myself to nod. "Then let me correct my mistake."
She laughed, low and sharp, her palm cupping my cheek almost mockingly. "Don't worry. I'll let you use me again. Use my money, drain me dry. But one wrong move, Aurora..." Her smile was lethal. "I'll take it all back. Every dime. And I'll make sure you have nothing left."
Her eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up again. "So, play smart. Every step you take, I'll have a counter waiting."