Chapter 40 Sloane #2
Tears swim in my eyes, and I just let them fall. I don’t even care if he knows he’s hurt me. Some part of me wants him to know, because it’s still stupidly hoping the sight of them will cause my Dom to resurface and send this monster back to whatever cage it’s been living in.
It feels dumb, trying to reach my Dom when the man in front of me is so eerily similar to the person I used to dread spending more than a minute around by myself, but I can’t stop, because I love him, and I don’t want to believe this is how we end.
Him, drunk and lashing out like an animal with a wound they won’t let anyone see, let alone fix. Me, reaching for him even when he keeps pushing me away. I know this is just pain. This is just him acting out the same way he did when I thanked him after Club Noir.
That was about his father, and I don’t know how exactly, but this is about that old bastard too.
Sometimes I forget about the parallels between my childhood and his.
Both of us grew up with one parent whose unconditional love wasn’t enough to shield us from the damage of their narcissistic partner.
And as a result, we grew around the shadows they gave us, walking around like open wounds looking for any excuse to turn a spark into a flame.
It’s no wonder he took one look at me that night and felt relieved.
We’ve always matched each other’s energy.
Sometimes in the worst ways, but sometimes—especially over these last few weeks—in the very best ones.
I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to let his father or my mother take another thing from us. And the only way to prevent that from happening is to make him accept that we’re nothing like them.
“You’re so full of shit.” I force the words past the lump in my throat.
“All of this talk about not being good enough for me because you’re like your dad or you’re not like Eric.
It’s all bullshit, Dominic. You gave up the chance at something great because you saw that your best friend was happy. Selfish men don’t do that.”
I move over to him, sitting on the coffee table and taking his hands in my mine. Dom’s head snaps up, his brows furrowed together in surprise. For a second, I think I see his expression soften in reaction to my tears, but it’s gone in an instant, so I continue.
“I can’t say I understand why you didn’t say anything all those years ago, but I’m thankful you didn’t, because it gave me a chance to love Eric before his life got cut short.
It gave you a chance to love him too, even in the moments you were bitter and jealous and hating both of us for having each other.
I don’t know why things worked out the way they did for us, but I’m not sorry.
Because in some way, I know I couldn’t have been yours if I wasn’t his first.”
Letting go of his hands, I reach up and cradle his face between my palms, forcing him to look at me for this next part.
“And I am yours, Dom. I’m so fucking yours, and you don’t even know it because all of the stuff that’s happened over the last few days has stopped me from being able to tell you the one thing I’ve known for a while now: I love you.
I love you so much, and you can try to scare me away, but I’m not going anywhere unless you look me in the eyes and tell me this is over. ”
The first time I say “I love you” his eyes fall shut, and his face morphs into a pained expression.
The second time he shudders as if he’s literally revolted at the idea of me loving him and shakes his head until I release my grip on his face.
And when I’m done talking, my heart has left my chest and made a new home in my throat.
I feel like I’m going to throw up as I wait for his response. Seconds seem to stretch into hours as I wait for the familiar warmth of that midnight gaze to caress my face, and all the while, I hold my breath.
But when he finally opens his eyes and looks at me, I know I’m not about to get the reaction I was hoping for.
“This is over.”
***
I don’t know how I make it from the tenth floor to the sidewalk in front of Dom’s building. But one second I’m on my knees in front of him, telling him how much I love him, and the next I’m swiping at tears that refuse to stop coming as I walk toward my car.
Every step I take seems to make the crack in my chest splinter more, and I have to force myself to keep moving.
Putting one foot in front of the other even though I think I can feel myself actively dying.
But every beat of my heart reminds me that it’s not me.
It’s the hope—for me, Dom, and our future—that was bursting out of me on the drive over.
It felt like a flower in full bloom, shifting from tight buds to beautiful, unfurling petals reaching toward the sun.
And now the edges of the petals are turning black, curling back onto themselves before breaking off and floating away.
My eyes are on the ground, tears blurring my vision, as I make my way to the parking area for visitors. People are walking around me in both directions, everyone too busy or caught up in their own world to notice the heartbroken woman moving at a snail’s pace on the sidewalk.
Not that I’m complaining. Running into anyone, but especially someone I know, while I’m crying outside of Dom’s building would be embarrassing and weird.
I probably wouldn’t even have the capacity to come up with a good lie about being here, which would mean risking people finding out about us when everything is already done.
Knowing I don’t want to deal with the heartbreak of losing more of the people I love, I open up my bag and start to dig for my keys. I’ve just put my hand on them when my shoulder collides with someone else’s, almost making me drop everything. Startled, I look up with an apology already on my lips.
“I’m so—” The words die on my tongue as my mind puts a name to the familiar face staring back at me.
Thin lips curled into a scowl masquerading as a smile, brown eyes filled with displeasure, flawless tawny skin over cheekbones that are more prominent today than I’ve ever seen them thanks to the sleek ponytail she’s wearing. “Kristen.”
My heart sinks as I try to imagine what I must look like right now. Eyes puffy and swollen from tears that are still falling, clothes wrinkled like I’ve just rolled out of bed, hair in a messy bun that’s probably got more than a few loose strands flying around.
I hate the idea of running into her looking like this, but my ego has to take a back seat to the panic coursing through my veins.
I rack my brain for something to say, thinking maybe I can play it nice and distract her from the fact I have no reason to be outside of Dom’s place on a Saturday evening looking like I’m doing a walk of shame.
“Sloane.” She crosses her arms over her chest. There’s a small gift bag dangling from her fingers, and I wonder absently if it’s for Dom. “This is the last place I’d expect to run into you.”
“I know, right?” I glance back at the building and force out a laugh. “Dominic needed me to bring some papers by for the hotel renovation we’re working on together. Did he tell you about it?”
“No. I don’t think he mentioned it.” She looks me up and down, and I shift my weight to my other foot. “Forgive me for staring, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed so…casually.”
I bite my lip. Letting her take such an evident dig at me is pissing me off, but I know I have to play it cool because acting cagey and defensive will only make her more suspicious.
“I know!” My voice is a little too high and overly friendly as I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “I was on my way back home from Ash’s when he called. Hence the sleepover clothes.” I gesture awkwardly at my outfit and laugh again. “You remember Ash, right?”
She studies me for a second, her eyes snapping with frenzied energy that reminds me of the look the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy get when they finally crack a case, and for a second I start to get nervous. Then she throws her head back and laughs, and my worry dissipates.
“Of course! He’s such a nice guy.” Her lips quirk. “Please tell him hello for me the next time you guys talk.”
“I definitely will.” I move around her, rifling through my purse for my keys. “See you later, Kristen.”
“How was he?”
The words reach my ears just as my hand lands on the keys at the bottom of my purse, and I drop them again when I spin around to face her, wondering if I imagined the double entendre.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, how was Nic?” She takes a few steps forward, her ponytail swishing as she closes the distance between us.
“Was he in a good mood? I mean, I know you two haven’t always gotten along, but I’m sure you know him better now after working with him for so long.
In your expert opinion, is it safe for me to go up, or should I turn around now and give him his gift later? ”
She dangles the bag in front of me, and I struggle to keep my face neutral. The idea of her going up there and being with him when I can’t makes me want to throw something.
“Um. I didn’t pay much attention to his mood, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” I finally pull out my keys and wave them at her. “I’ve got to run. See you around.”
Kristen waves and gives me a smile that’s supposed to be friendly but feels all wrong because it doesn’t match the triumphant glint in her eye that makes me feel like she’s just caught me in a lie.
“Later, Sloane.”