chapter 22 #2
She hadn’t, because going to the farm would mean leaving Charlotte, and that wouldn’t be an easy choice—if it was her choice. Maybe Charlotte wouldn’t want to keep her even if she didn’t go back to Cliff. “I don’t know what I want to do yet.”
The sound of the door alerted Sloane that Charlotte had just come out of the house. She knew it wasn’t Lilly, not this late.
Lilly had taken her e-reader and gone to bed over an hour ago. She was so engrossed in the second book of Sarah J. Maas’s
series that nothing short of an earthquake or a fire would make her leave her room now that dinner was over and she had the
chance to read. And Julian hadn’t returned after being gone all day. Sloane had been waiting for him to come through the gate.
After what she’d just seen, she needed to talk to him.
“There you are,” Charlotte said.
Fortunately, that comment didn’t require a response, so Sloane took a moment to compose herself. She’d been hoping for some
privacy until her brother got home, had thought she’d be able to safely find it on the deck. She’d heard Charlotte talking
to Cliff on the phone earlier and assumed she wouldn’t venture out again, if only to avoid what Sloane had to say about the
part of the conversation she’d overheard—where it had sounded as though Charlotte was weakening and might eventually cave
in to his entreaties.
Pulling the lap blanket she’d carried outside higher around her shoulders, Sloane used it to partially shield her face.
“I thought you went to bed when Lilly did,” Charlotte commented.
Sloane kept her gaze on the lights pricking the dark over Amalfi so that Charlotte couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
That picture Ben’s coworker had sent had leveled her.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe, let alone explain what was happening, even to her best friend, especially because she sensed that everyone would think she deserved exactly what she was getting.
After all, she was the one who’d been unsure whether she wanted to stay in her marriage. “No.”
“Where’s Jules?”
The sea thudded softly below; the air smelled faintly of citrus and stone as a cool breeze ruffled her hair. “He . . . um . . .
I don’t know,” she managed to say.
Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat to Sloane’s right. “Are you waiting up for him?”
Sloane’s composure was crumbling. She wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense much longer.
When she didn’t answer right away, Charlotte leaned forward, trying to catch her eye. “Seems like he’s gone all the time these
days.”
Sloane drew in a deep breath. “He’s been—” she swallowed hard “—spending a lot of time in Sorrento.”
“Sorrento? Without us?”
“He told me there’s a lot to photograph, so . . .”
“I get that,” Charlotte said. “But it’s dark now. Well past dark. Seems like he should be home.”
Sloane didn’t say anything. It was too hard to speak.
“Sloane? Did you hear me? I said it seems like he should be home by now.”
“What do you want from me?” she snapped, too upset to be able to hold back. “He’s not!”
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, grabbing her arm to get her to turn and make eye contact.
The concern in her friend’s voice broke what was left of the dam holding Sloane’s emotions back. She could no longer speak
as the tears began to stream down her face.
“What’s happened?” Charlotte asked again, clearly alarmed.
Sloane figured she might as well show her now. Shoving her phone at Charlotte, she squeezed her eyes shut before covering
them with her hands.
“What’s this?” Charlotte asked.
“Can’t you see it?” she choked out, dropping her hands. “That’s Ben!”
“I know it’s Ben, but it doesn’t look like he’s doing anything wrong. He’s got a kid on his shoulders, but he’s not with a
woman. He’s just . . . outside in a parking lot.”
“That’s not just any kid, Char. That’s Colt, the son of the woman his pharmacy hired right after I left. Her name’s Adele
something. You can’t see her in the picture because she’s bent over putting groceries in her car.”
“You’re not saying . . . You don’t think Ben’s having an affair. Chances are he only met this woman when she started.”
“I don’t think he’s having an affair. Not yet.”
“But . . .”
“But I could easily see it moving in that direction. She’s divorced and her husband isn’t a good father. I’m sure Ben would
love to step in. He wouldn’t even have to wait through a pregnancy.”
“How do you know she’s divorced and the boy doesn’t have an involved father?”
“Ben told me.”
Charlotte gestured at the phone. “So wait . . . Where is this?”
“Right by the pharmacy. There’s a big grocery store next to it.”
“So he probably came out of work, saw her loading her groceries and is entertaining her son while she does it. Isn’t that
his car parked right next to hers?”
“Yes, but—”
“Sloane, according to what you just told me, he’s been open with you about the new hire, who happens to have a young boy he’s
trying to help with. How does that change anything?”
“Don’t you see it? How happy he is? He wants children, Char. Sandra, his coworker who sent me this picture, said he and Adele are getting close. That’s why she contacted me! She’s concerned. She must have reason to be.”
“She could be wrong—”
“I’m holding him back. If I don’t agree to have kids, he’ll leave me. If not now, eventually.” She gestured at the photograph
Sandra had snapped of Ben helping to entertain Adele’s five-year-old. “Maybe even for her.”
Charlotte sighed audibly. “Sloane, no! Ben loves you. He’s always been true to you. Why would you doubt him now?”
“Because I can feel us drifting apart! We’re changing, have different interests. I don’t think I’m the right person for the
person he’s turning into.”
“Have you two talked about this?”
“Not enough. We don’t want to acknowledge it. But we need to. We want different things.”
“Are you ready to let go of your marriage?”
Slumping lower in her seat, she finished the last sip of wine in the glass she’d brought outside. “I don’t know. I’d be giving
up such a good man.”
“Yes, you would.”
“You think I’d be making a mistake . . .”
Charlotte seemed to choose her words carefully. “I can’t say that. Sometimes two people aren’t right for each other even though
they’re both good people. That’s actually what I’ve been writing about, and that could be the case here. But you’ve always
been so much in love. It’s hard to choose divorce when you’re not splitting up for . . . for something that makes the decision
necessary.”
“We just want different lives!” she reiterated.
“Are you sure you don’t want children?”
“No,” she admitted. “But I also don’t want to feel forced into having them.”
“I can understand that. I wanted children, but Cliff wasn’t ready—”
“Ew!” she broke in, using the back of her hand to wipe her nose. “Don’t compare me to Cliff.”
“I know you don’t like him, but—”
“Are you going back to him? Because his opinion on children isn’t the problem. He doesn’t want you to have any of your friends
or family in your life. That selfish bastard wants you all to himself, so you can focus your time, effort and energy exclusively
on him. Then in a few years, he’ll probably cast you aside for a much younger woman.”
“Ouch!” Charlotte said.
Sloane knew she was going too far, but she couldn’t help it. She was hurt and upset, and feeling she had only herself to blame
just made it worse. Why oh why couldn’t she crave babies like so many other women did?
“If I don’t say it, who will?” she said, doubling down instead of shutting up like she knew she should. “Do you think I should
bite my tongue and let you go back to him when he doesn’t deserve you? When the life you’d live wouldn’t be the kind of life
you could have with a better partner? Money’s great and all that, but what about feeling safe, secure, loved and supported?
What about your needs being as important as his for a change?”
“You mean how will I live without all the truly important things—like the ones Ben’s given you?” Charlotte snapped, finally getting upset. “Well, look how far that’s gotten him!”
Sloane felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Maybe she deserved it. She’d raised her voice first. But she was in a hollowed-out
kind of despair, afraid it was already too late to save her marriage.
“Obviously, you’ve got Ben’s back. I’ll be sure to let him know you’re in his corner,” she said and stalked into the house, where she went straight to her room and threw herself on the bed.
Charlotte’s heart thudded as she stared at the blanket Sloane had dropped, now pooled at the chair’s feet. The air on the
deck still felt charged, sharp with what she hadn’t meant to say.
“Damn it,” she cursed. She loved Sloane, wanted to be there for her no matter what. But they were both on edge, worried about
their marriages—or their divorces, as the case might be. Sloane was also concerned about leaving her business languishing
in the hands of her partner for so long. She’d been starting to talk a lot about that and spending more time on the phone
and computer. And after being gone for almost three weeks, she had to be a little homesick. Then to receive a picture of Ben
laughing while holding his new coworker’s darling son when the issue tearing them apart revolved around having kids . . .
Charlotte could totally understand why that would hurt.
Still, she had no right to judge her or be critical.
She should’ve handled the situation better, been more supportive, she decided. But Sloane had struck a nerve with what she’d
said about Cliff. She hadn’t needed to say it; Charlotte already knew the truth. She understood, just as Sloane did, that
he was unlikely to change. In her view, it was more a matter of timing. If she went back to him, she could get her feet under
her again. She’d have somewhere she and Lilly could stay until she finished her book, and the reconciliation would make her
second book sell as well as the first. That seemed so vital to her right now. If her marriage fell apart after one last, concerted effort, at least trying again would’ve bought
her some time. Time to keep her money separate from his so she’d have some reserves. Time to get some counseling and prepare
herself emotionally. Time to focus on her future deadlines so she’d never fall this far behind again.
She’d been blindsided when he asked for the divorce. She just wanted to regain her equilibrium and have some way to plan what she’d do if her marriage did fall apart.
While she hated herself for even gaming it out, that would be the easiest path in so many ways, which was why, when she was
at her weakest, it was tempting.
But she also knew, in her heart of hearts, that she could never really do it. Cliff had broken something when he kicked her
out—had made her look at him from a critical point of view, which she would never allow herself to do when she was busy being
the dutiful, long-suffering wife. She couldn’t put what they’d had together again. He called her refusal a lack of forgiveness.
Made her feel guilty for being unable to let it go as a mistake. But she wasn’t a hard-hearted person. She believed it was
her intuition, warning her to stay away from danger.
It was also what she’d begun to feel for Jules . . .
With a sigh, she got up and went inside to apologize, but Sloane wouldn’t open her bedroom door. Charlotte called out—softly,
so she wouldn’t disturb Lilly—and Sloane replied just as softly that they’d discuss it in the morning, when she wasn’t feeling
quite so raw.
Charlotte accepted that because she knew it was probably a good idea. She wasn’t in the best frame of mind herself. Not only
was she stressed out about her marriage and her career, but also she was concerned about Julian. She missed him. She needed
him. She wanted to know, if it was their kiss that’d made him retreat from her, if they could get beyond it somehow. If that
required an apology for crossing the line they’d always respected in the past, she was willing to give it to him.
So instead of going to bed, she went back to the deck and waited until he finally came through the gate.