Chapter 34 Sloane
SLOANE
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON…
My first day alone in almost two weeks. I’m feeling ok, I think. I’m honestly not really even sure how I’m supposed to feel.
I feel like I’ve checked every lock and window in the house at least a dozen times. Mocha just follows me around like he has no idea why I’m acting so crazy. I just pick him up, kiss his head, then walk around and check all the locks again.
I am finally able to get myself to calm down enough to make something for breakfast.
Putting on a TV show and playing music helps make the house seem not so fucking quiet.
I’m in the middle of putting my pancakes onto a plate when MONICA flashes across the screen. My brows scrunch in confusion. Why the fuck is she calling me?
I think about ignoring it, but she might be dying. So I pick it up and accept the call, putting her on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey, how are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?” I try not to sound irritated as she acts like this isn’t the first time we’ve spoken in months.
“I’m good. Look, I heard you’re in Timberline. I would love to get coffee with you and catch up if you have some time today.”
I clench my jaw. Of course, she’s not just setting up a time; she’s demanding that it happens on her schedule.
Lucky for her, I’m still a loser, and my people-pleasing heart can’t say no to her, even though I want to.
“Sure, I can meet you at Lucy’s around noon.”
“Great, see you there.”
“Love—” I don’t even get the words out before she’s hanging up on me. My heart constricts, a new kind of anxiety settling over me. I look down at my pancakes, and they no longer seem appetizing.
“Well, this is not going to be fun,” I mumble, giving Mocha a frown, before I clean up breakfast and head upstairs to my room to get ready.
I’m sure that she’s known I’ve been in town, so the only reason that she’s calling is that she wants something.
I riffle through my clothes, my stupid brain telling me that I have to look good for her, that if I look nice, she’ll love me, that if I look up to her standards, it’ll earn her affection.
It’s desperate, and I shouldn’t listen to the little voice, but I don’t know how to tell it that it’s unreasonable.
So I put on a cute skirt and a cute tank top before curling my hair and putting on some light makeup.
When I stand in front of the mirror, I try to smile and look happy.
To remind myself of how far I’ve come in the three years since I last saw her.
But all I see is a broken girl who is still trying way to fucking hard to earn the approval of people who don’t care about her.
I take a deep breath, willing the stupid voice in my head to shut up for five minutes before I crash the fuck out.
A quarter to noon, I kiss Mocha on the head. With horrendous anxiety, I get into my car, and I drive into town.
Lucy’s is a cute little sit-down brunch spot on the far end of town, far away from the one where I usually get my coffee. You know, the one that I’ve avoided since it happened.
I miss it, but whenever I get a drink from there, all I can remember is him chasing me down the street and then sobbing into Beckett’s couch for two weeks.
So that place is a no-go zone for me right now.
I try not to think about it, choosing to focus on all the things that I should say to Monica when I see her, but know that I won’t because I’m too chicken.
I park my car around back, tucking my phone into my cute bag next to my wallet before locking my car and then making sure it’s locked by locking it again. I drop the keys into my purse before taking a deep, centering breath and walking inside.
It isn’t hard to find Monica. I can hear her as soon as I walk in; her overly enthusiastic voice echoes off the building’s walls.
I give the hostess a smile, walking past her and following the voice.
When Monica comes into view, she’s sitting at a corner table that overlooks Main Street. She’s sitting by herself, but she’s talking to someone that I’m sure I should know, but I can’t put a name to her face at the moment.
“Oh, Sloaney! I’m so happy to see you,” Monica squeals as soon as she notices me, my anxiety spiking tenfold when every head turns our way.
I stand awkwardly, making no move to hug her back as she squeezes me.
“Janet, I’ll give you a call,” she says, over her shoulder to the lady she had been talking to, who quickly turns and walks away, leaving me alone with this crazy person.
No, please, come back. It’s hard to keep the thought inside my head as she disappears from my sight.
Monica’s bright blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and she wears workout clothes that are a size too small, making her boobs look bigger than they are.
The perfect makeup that is caked on her face tells me that she didn’t just get done with Pilates, the gym, or whatever it is she tells people she’s doing to keep her figure slim, when the real answer is probably just alcohol, coffee, and diet pills.
“Mom, it’s so nice to see you,” I lie, prying myself out of her arms and sitting down across from her.
She sits down, smiles at me, and just shakes her head. “You look so different. Georgia has been so good for you. I mean, look at you, you must’ve lost what…sixty, maybe, seventy pounds?”
I give her a tight-lipped smile and a stiff nod of my head. Of course, the first thing that she’s going to bring up is my appearance, but I suspected nothing less from her.
“Well, you look amazing. I’m so proud of you, honey,” she gushes, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.
I let her hold my hand for a few moments before pulling it away and picking up the menu in front of me. She says nothing and takes a big sip of what looks like a mimosa. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and keep myself focused on the menu.
“What can I get you to drink?” a waitress asks me with a smile.
“Can I just get a water, please?” She nods.
Before she can walk away, Monica interjects, “Can I get another one of these?”
The waitress gives a tight-lipped smile as Monica lifts her now empty glass, before walking away as quick as possible.
Neither of us says anything as we browse through the menu. I decided what I wanted a few minutes ago, but I keep looking so I can avoid talking to her.
“So, your social media stuff looks like it’s going well. You have lots of followers, and I saw that you have a dog now.”
I tighten my jaw, allowing myself a deep breath before painting a fake smile onto my face and setting the menu down.
Everything about this interaction is setting off alarm bells in my head. All I want to do is go home, cuddle Mocha, wait for my man to get home so I can melt into him, and forget about this whole interaction.
“Yeah, it’s going well. And yes, I do have a dog, his name is Mocha.”
“You’re staying with Beckett, aren't you?”
I nod my head, my fingers twisting anxiously in my lap. I’m not sure where this is going, but I don’t really like it.
“Is he still as good-looking as he was back then?”
“I don’t follow,” I say, my heart beating faster in my chest. I don’t like the way she’s looking right now, almost like she wants to pounce. Like she’s two seconds away from finding Beckett and jumping him.
“Come on, Sloaney, you can be honest with me. We’re both grown women here, we can admit when we see an attractive man, can’t we?
” Just then, the waitress comes back with our drinks, saving me the horror of my mom trying to steal Beckett, which shouldn’t unlock a new insecurity.
But for some reason, deep in my mind, it’s like something clicks, and I try to shake down the horrible feeling that begins to seep into my blood.
“Thanks,” I say. The waitress nods, pulling out a little book and writing down both of our orders before she turns and hurries away from us as fast as she can. I’m not surprised, I’d do the same if I could.
“What was I saying?” Monica asks, sipping more of her drink. “Oh, right, Beckett. He’s just so good-looking, isn’t he? I always wanted him in high school, and somehow I settled for Briar.” She rolls her eyes, and I sit still as a board, unsure of what my polite smile has morphed into.
“Is he single?”
Her question has me scrambling. What do I say? Do I tell her that he is, or do I say that he isn’t? Obviously, I’m not stupid enough to say that I’m dating him. The whole town would know in less than an hour if I did that.
“I’m not really sure. We don’t really talk about our dating lives. We’re just roommates. He works long hours; I don’t really see him. When I do, I don’t ask him about his sex life.”
She giggles at me. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and I’m not sure if I should be angry or embarrassed.
“I should call him sometime. It’s been long enough since Briar and I were anything. Maybe Beckett would want to try and kindle something.”
The more she talks, the more uncomfortable I become.
“Did you ask me to lunch just to ask me about Beckett?” I try to collect myself. I take a sip of the cold water, hoping to cool my fiery cheeks. The little green monster slithering up from my stomach and into my lungs.
Realistically speaking, Monica would be a way better choice for Beckett.
They are closer in age, and they know each other well.
Monica is way prettier than I, much more experienced.
Sure, she might be a little too high-maintenance for him, but them being together would make a lot more sense than him and me.
“Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. I am curious about Beckett, but no, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She giggles again, tipping back the rest of what’s in her glass. My skin crawls, and I get more and more anxious as she sits in front of me.
Maybe it’s a good thing that neither of my parents has tried to seek me out while I’ve been home.
She takes a deep breath and suddenly becomes very serious, the change giving me whiplash.
She reaches into her purse and pulls an envelope out of it.
“What’s this?” I ask.