Chapter 34
As Sloane walked past me toward the master bedroom, I leaned in, inhaling her scent before she slipped away.
I blinked and stepped back, my gaze following her.
She raised a brow when she caught me staring.
We still hadn't talked properly about what happened at the mall, and now she came home smelling different—like someone else.
I pointed at her blazer. "Did you get a new perfume?"
"What?" She frowned, shrugged off the blazer, and sniffed it. "Ah." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Must be Margot's perfume." With a shrug, she disappeared into the bathroom.
I scoffed under my breath and sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, waiting. A few minutes later, she stepped out wrapped in a robe. She stopped in front of me, reached out, and tilted my chin, angling my face as if to inspect my cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, guilt woven through her tone. "I shouldn't have slapped you."
A dry chuckle slipped from me as I brushed her hand away. "Sol," I began, "how do you really see Margot?"
Her brows knitted. She clicked her tongue. "Ro, can we not do this again?"
"If I die one day," I pressed, rising to my feet, "will you choose her? If I hadn't gotten you pregnant back then, if we never had Dione, would you rather be with her than be stuck with me for revenge?"
Sloane froze. For a long moment she just looked at me, silent, unreadable. "Where is this coming from? What kind of question is that?"
"Just answer me." My hands gripped her arms, too tightly—I saw her wince, and immediately loosened my hold. "Sol, if you had the chance... would you choose Margot over me?"
She looked away, sighed, then slowly met my eyes again. A smile ghosted across her lips as she cupped my face. "Ro, are you asking me this because you're jealous of Margot?"
"And what if I am?"
Her hands lingered on my cheeks. She smiled faintly, leaned in, and kissed me. When she pulled back, she shook her head. "Don't be jealous of her, please. She's my business partner. That's all. We built a friendship through work—haven't I told you that before?"
"But you still haven't answered my question, Sol. If I die one day, will you choose to be with her? Will you let someone else take care of Dione if I'm gone? Margot, perhaps?"
Sloane let out a laugh, rubbing her temple.
"Ro, enough of this, will you?" she sighed, resting both hands on my shoulders.
"Look, I'm sorry if my blazer smelled like Margot's perfume.
She spilled a drink at the resto bar with the team and investors, and I let her borrow it for a while.
That's all." Her eyes softened as her fingers traced the faint handprint on my cheek.
"And about the mall... I'm sorry. I lost my temper.
I know I shouldn't have hurt you like that.
It's just... Margot is younger than us."
"She might be younger, Sol, but she's not a child anymore," I groaned. "And you standing in front of me like I was about to hurt her? Wow." I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Why? Isn't that what you did?" Sloane shot back. "You shoved her. If you hadn't, she wouldn't have acted that way."
A bitter laugh slipped from me as I pulled her arms off my shoulders.
"See? You're not trying to make amends, Sol.
You're pointing fingers at me like you saw the whole damn thing.
She grabbed my wrist—I shoved her off. I didn't even push her that hard.
But you know what?" I raised my hands in surrender.
"None of it matters, because you've already chosen to believe the other side of the story. And sadly, that side isn't mine."
I shook my head and turned toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"The guest room," I muttered, stepping out and slamming the door behind me.
Halfway down the hallway, my steps faltered when I reached Dione's room. I sighed and twisted the knob, peeking inside. She was fast asleep, the soft glow of her nightlamp casting a warm light across her small frame.
I opened the door and left it slightly ajar as I walked toward her bed. Sitting on the edge with my back to her, I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, where faint glow-in-the-dark stars clung to the plaster. I sighed, staring at them as if they might answer me.
"Dione," I whispered, careful not to wake her. "If one day I die, I want you to look up at the night sky. The brightest star you see—that'll be me." A shaky laugh slipped past my lips, even as tears blurred my vision.
Covering my mouth, I sniffled, trying to hold it together.
"What a shame, huh? I only have a few years left, and we only just found each other.
" My voice cracked as I lowered my head.
"I should've stayed. I should've stayed with your mother.
Instead, I walked away. Maybe this is my punishment—for leaving her to face everything alone, for making her bear the weight of us both. "
My shoulders trembled as I fought down a sob.
"I never wanted to leave her. But I thought I had to—because I'm dying.
I thought stepping back would spare her, spare you.
But maybe... maybe I should've stayed. Maybe I should've chosen to be selfish and lived what time I had, happy with the two of you.
Instead of wasting decades in treatment, only for my body to betray me anyway. "
A faint sound broke me from my spiral—Dione stirred. She groaned softly, and I straightened at once, swiping the tears from my face.
"Pops...?" she mumbled, her voice drowsy.
I forced a smile and leaned down to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "Hey, sweetie. Sorry—did I wake you?"
She shook her head with a little hum, blinking half-awake. "Do you wanna sleep beside me, Pops?" she whispered. "But Mommy might look for you." A small laugh, then her eyes fluttered shut again.
I chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "No, sweetheart. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're sleeping well." I tucked the blanket snug around her shoulders. "Go back to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll make you breakfast."
She nodded, mumbling incoherent words as she snuggled her teddy bear. I rubbed my thumb along her cheek before standing. I closed the door behind me gently and let out a long breath in the quiet hallway.
I almost yelped when I turned and saw Sloane standing there. My throat tightened.
She walked to me and took my hand.
"I went to the guestroom— you weren't there.
Turns out you were in Dione's." Her thumb rubbed my knuckles.
She licked her lips and looked at me. "Listen, Ro.
I'm sorry for not hearing your side. That was my fault.
Can we stop fighting about little things?
Can we just—" She glanced away for a second, then back at me. "Can we just make out?"
Something in me unclenched. If I kept hunting for every threat, every imagined betrayal, I'd lose what mattered most. Letting my fear steer me wouldn't win back time with them. I couldn't afford that.
"Sol." I swallowed, wetting my lips. I cupped her face and kissed her.
A small gasp escaped her as she wrapped her arms around me.
I leaned her back against the wall and kissed her again, harder.
My hands found the curve of her waist. We stumbled forward, lips still locked, fingers fumbling for the bedroom knob.
Sloane rose up on her toes and I bent to meet her.
Once inside the bedroom, I closed the door and we moved to the bed, still kissing. Between breaths, I kept saying it until it felt true in my bones. "I love you," I murmured. My hands sketched the line of her jaw. "I love you, Sol. I love you."
She pulled me closer by the hair and whispered back, "I love you more."
I didn't have enough time. But I would give everything I had to be here with her—and with our daughter—every possible day I could.
?·???°???°???·?
In the middle of whisking the batter, I paused when one of my earbuds slipped out. I turned and saw Sloane sliding it into her own ear. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned close enough that her arm brushed mine as she glanced at the bowl in my hands.
"Good morning," I said, setting the whisk aside and bracing one hand on the island as I faced her. She chuckled, and the strap of her lingerie dress slipped down her shoulder. With a sigh, I tugged it back up before leaning in to kiss her.
She tapped my shoulder with a teasing click of her tongue. "What's gotten into you? Since when do you cook first thing in the morning?"
I shrugged, turning back to the batter. "Just felt like serving you and Dione. Nothing extravagant. Just... a normal breakfast for us."
Sloane hummed, leaning against the counter to watch me. "Would you like some coffee? Or tea?" she asked as I turned the stove on and set a pan over the flame. I misted it with oil, the faint hiss filling the quiet.
"How about a mixed-berry smoothie?" I asked, glancing at her with a smile. "I've been craving one."
She tilted her head, studying me for a moment, then sighed softly and returned my smile. Without a word, she crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bag of frozen berries.
I poured the soufflé batter into the pan, careful to keep it thick enough so it would rise fluffy and golden, listening to it hiss and spread before rising in slow, airy bubbles.
Behind me, the blender roared to life as Sloane worked on the smoothie.
The kitchen smelled of vanilla and butter, mingled with the faint tang of berries.
By the time I plated the cooked pancakes and poured another onto the pan, a familiar tune slipped into my earbud—Taylor Swift's 22. Its playful beat lifted the room's mood, as if the whole kitchen had turned into a mischievous little street café.
I chuckled.
I wasn't used to mornings like this—domestic, unhurried, almost ordinary.
My gaze lingered on Sloane, standing barefoot in front of the blender, humming along as she bobbed her head.
Her silk lingerie dress swayed around her thighs, one loose strap slipping carelessly down her shoulder.
"You whisk like you're drafting a contract," Sloane teased, reaching past me to steal the whisk.
I arched a brow, rolling my cardigan sleeves higher. "And you sing like you're auditioning for Broadway, Sloey."
We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time... The lyrics spilled from the earbuds, playful and ironic. Sloane spun the whisk in her hand with a flourish, then leaned into my space, brushing against me. "Admit it—you're too stiff for this."
My lips twitched, and a laugh escaped—rare, but real—as she swayed her hips to the beat, singing louder. The batter sloshed dangerously in the bowl.
"You'll ruin breakfast," I warned.
"Then we'll dance hungry," she countered, catching my hand and tugging me from the counter. I resisted for a heartbeat, then gave in.
We danced and laughed like we used to.
For a moment, the kitchen became our stage—Sloane spinning barefoot in her lingerie, silk catching the morning light, while I, still buttoned up in my cardigan, stumbled into rhythm.
It was ridiculous, messy, utterly imperfect—yet something inside me cracked open.
Sloane tipped her head back and laughed, the sound filling the kitchen. My eyes softened at the sight of her like that. My hand slid to her waist as if I couldn't let her go. I wouldn't let her go. Not ever.
"Hey! I don't know about you, but I'm feeling twenty-two!
" she sang, swaying us together as the chorus swelled.
For the length of a song, it felt like years of heartbreak had never happened.
There was only music, pancakes, and the two of us rediscovering the simplest form of love — laughter before breakfast.
When the song ended, we stayed wrapped up in each other. Her smile wouldn't fade; her cheeks were flushed from dancing. My free hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it.
With the smile still on her lips, Sloane rested her arms on my shoulders. "I missed this," she murmured, looking straight into my eyes. "I missed everything about us, Ro."
"Sloey..." I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat before I leaned in and kissed her. I wanted to claim her—she was my wife, mine.
Sloane answered, looping her arms around my neck as I tightened my hold.
"Mommy? Pops?" A small voice made us break apart. Dione stood in the kitchen doorway, rubbing her eyes, half-asleep.
"Sweetie," Sloane said, her voice breaking in a way that made me want to laugh and cry at once. She nudged my abdomen.
"Did you two just sing?" Dione asked, grinning. Then she sniffed and frowned. "What's that burning smell?"
My stomach dropped. I dashed to the stove. "Oh fu—" I cut myself off and switched the stove off; the soufflé was ruined and black at the edges. I smacked my forehead.
Sloane laughed. "So much for the effort, honey," she teased.
I groaned and pointed a mock-indignant finger at her. "How is this my fault when my wife—the woman who made me drop everything to dance in the kitchen—asked me to twirl her?"
She raised a brow and chuckled. "Well, I can whip us up something else—"
"It's fine, Sloey," I said, sliding on an oven mitt and pulling the cupcake pan from the oven. "I told you I made bacon-and-egg cups too, besides the soufflé pancakes."
She tilted her head and smiled. "Fine." She shrugged and came over to help me plate the bacon and eggs. "Dione, sweetheart, come get the pancakes. We're eating breakfast."
"Yes, Mommy!" Dione cheered, running up to me as I handed her the plate. "These smell so good, Pops!" she said, grinning up at me.
"Well, then you should eat it," I said, tousling her hair. She laughed and carried the pancakes into the dining room.
I watched Sloane pour the smoothies into three tall glasses. "I'll make granola with mixed berries, too—want some?" I asked. She nodded.
I smiled, grabbed two bowls, filled them with granola and lactose-free milk, sliced some berries, and scattered them on top. Sloane carried the bacon-and-egg cups and smoothies toward the dining, leaving me alone for a beat.
Light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming the kitchen.
I paused, watching the sun stripe the floor.
Maybe choosing family first wouldn't hurt.
Maybe I could put everything else down and take these small, soft mornings with them.
I wanted to hold on to the time I had left and make it matter.
"Pops!" Dione's voice jolted me as I turned toward her.
"Hey, sweetheart," I said with a smile, balancing the tray of bowls.
"What's taking you so long? Come on, we'll eat together," she said, bouncing with excitement.
I nodded. "Alright, here I come!" I carried the tray, and Dione walked beside me as we headed to the dining hall. "Say, would you like to go to the beach later today?"
She hopped onto her chair while I set a bowl in front of Sloane, then placed mine down. "Can we, Pops?"
"Don't you have work to do, Ro?" Sloane chimed in, glancing at me before shifting her gaze to Dione.
I shrugged, setting the tray aside and sliding into my seat beside Dione. "I can take a day off for this young lady right here," I said, pinching Dione's cheeks. "Besides, it's summer. Can't you take a break, too? Just a little family outing, maybe?"
Sloane arched a brow, scooping a blueberry into her mouth. She studied me for a long moment before sighing. "I'll call Millie, then," she said with a shrug.
"Yes!" Dione pumped her elbow in a tiny victory cheer. I high-fived her, and we both grinned.
Sloane groaned, shaking her head, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You two always team up against me."
I winked at her and took a sip of my smoothie. "Oh, right," I began, looking her way. "I've been thinking... I'm planning to step down as CEO of my company."
Sloane froze mid-bite, blinking at me. She slowly set her spoon down. "What?"
"I said—"
"No, I heard you." Her eyes narrowed. "Why would you step down?"
My lips pressed together.
I turned to Dione, then back to Sloane. "Because I want more time with her.
With both of you. If I stay buried in work, I'll miss everything that matters.
I've already lost too many years. Work will always be there, but time with my family.
.." I shook my head. "That's the one thing I can't get back.
And I won't risk losing it again just because I own an empire. "