Chapter 41 Sloane
Sloane
Now
Mal takes one look at my shower cap, ratty old sweats, and the half-eaten bowl of ice cream clutched in my hand and frowns. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
It’s a good question, but I can’t even begin to answer it truthfully. Which is why I’ve been hiding out at home all week, wallowing in my grief and trying to check at least one item off of my heartbreak recovery list.
It was a lofty set of goals—fix my broken heart that only wants to be put back together by the hands that destroyed it in the first place, cleanse my mind of all thoughts and images from the last four weeks, find a way to hate the person I love—but I set them so the next time I came face-to-face with someone who knows me as well as Mal does, they wouldn’t be able to see the pain written all over my face. I guess I failed at that too.
I move aside to let Mal in the door. “Nothing.”
She steps inside gingerly, almost like she thinks moving too fast might cause me to break, and I appreciate it because I honestly believe it might.
Since I walked out of Dom’s place, I’ve felt like a shell of myself.
Fragile like a piece of glass that’s already got a crack running down the middle.
One sudden move, one more bump, and I’ll shatter into a million little pieces.
“Sweetie, you answered your door in a shower cap.”
“I’m deep conditioning my hair.”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“Yes.” I throw myself back onto the couch cushion I’ve been stuck to since Saturday. “There are no rules against deep conditioning on a weeknight.”
Mal plops down in the opposite corner and tosses her hair over her shoulder.
Today she’s wearing a red wig with blunt bangs and bone-straight tresses that reach the center of her back.
This is my first time seeing her all week, and it’s good to have something else to focus on besides the image of Dom looking at me and saying it’s over that’s been playing in my head on repeat.
“Not officially, but I for one have no interest in spending a weeknight suffering through an in-depth wash routine.”
I shrug and set my bowl on the table. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“You’re not going to find it sitting in this house.” There’s a sad sparkle in her eyes as she studies me. “I know you’re sad about things ending with Ash, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up completely. He was just one man, there are plenty more where he came from.”
The smile I give her feels brittle and forced. “Thanks, but I’m not sad about Ash.”
“You’re not? Then what’s with the ‘I just got my heart broke’ look you’re sporting?” Her eyes light up with a mischievous glow. “Were you dating someone else?”
I shake my head. “No, Mal.”
But it’s too late. She’s already grabbed the bone and started to run with it. A happy little squeal hits the air as she bounces in her seat like a child and points at me. “You were! You totally were! Who was it?” I open my mouth, but she waves me off. “Oh no. Let me guess. James?”
“No.” I push to my feet and head toward the kitchen. “I wasn’t seeing anyone else.”
“Liar!” Mal calls from behind me as she follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island.
“Oh my God! That reminds me. I ran into Kristen at Twisted Sistas yesterday, and she told me the craziest thing.” I start to rummage through the refrigerator, examining a jar of pickles way too closely just to avoid letting her see the panic on my face at the mention of Kristen’s name.
“She said she ran into you outside of Nic’s place over the weekend, and you looked like you had just rolled out of bed.
Then she launched into this whole theory about you guys sleeping together because Nic broke up with her around the time he took the job at the hotel. ”
I freeze and the jar of pickles slips from my hand and hits the floor. Mal is on her feet in an instant, rushing over to me and grabbing me by the shoulders.
“Sloane! What the hell?”
She spins me around, and the feel of her fingertips pressing into my shoulders is the only thing anchoring me to earth. How the hell did Kristen figure it out? Mal walks me over to one of the barstools and urges me to sit. I watch her clean up the mess with the same stunned expression on my face.
“Are you okay?” She sits back down beside me, her forehead creased in clear confusion. “Don’t worry about what Kristen said, girl. Nobody would ever believe you and Nic would be together, I mean, you two barely—”
“It’s true.”
Her mouth snaps shut. Then falls open. Then snaps shut again.
And it would be comical to see Mal struggling for a response if it didn’t feel like I just ruined our entire relationship with two little words.
When I get the courage to look at her, she’s still speechless, so I launch straight into the apology I’ve been preparing for weeks just in case this moment came.
“Mal, I’m so sorry. We were only together for a few weeks. It was a stupid mistake, and it’s over now.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Please don’t hate me.”
The creases in her forehead deepen as I stare at her, pleading with my eyes for her to say something, anything, in response to what I’ve just confessed.
When Dom and I first made our agreement, I lived in fear of this moment—dreading the dip in her brows and the tears in her eyes that would make the hurt there more evident—but none of it is happening the way I thought it would.
Mal is deathly still beside me, her features frozen in surprise and the corners of her lips twisting into something between a smile and a horrified scowl.
“Mal, please say something.”
“I just—” She shakes her head, a small laugh bursting from her mouth. “I mean, I don’t know what to say, Sloane. Honestly, I think I might be in shock.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “I’m sorry to just spring this on you. Do you want me to get you some water or something stronger?” I start to rise from my seat, but she pulls me down and stares at me with wide eyes.
“No! You already have the whole kitchen smelling like pickle juice.” Her lips quirk like she’s fighting back another laugh. “Sit your ass down and tell me what the hell is going on with you and Nic.”
This time it’s me struggling for words. Out of all the things I thought she would say when she finally got her brain working again, this isn’t it. I sigh. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get all technical with me. Nothing is going on now, but something was going on, and it’s still affecting you.”
Her lips push out into a surprisingly sympathetic pout as she glances at my shower cap. I press my lips together because I’m not sure if the next thing that passes through them is going to be a sob, laugh, or weird mixture of both.
“Why aren’t you mad right now?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t mad.” My face falls, and she gives me a light bump with her shoulder. “Calm down, girl! I’m mad at you for not telling me what was going on. We’re supposed to be best friends, and you’re out here keeping major secrets from me.”
All of my breath leaves my body in a relieved whoosh. “But not because I was in a relationship with Dom?”
“Dom?” She makes a gagging sound. “Ugh. Why do you call him that? Never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything about your sex life.”
“Mal.”
“Sloane.” We stare at each other, and I let her see all the worry and doubt I’m feeling.
“No, I’m not mad at you, and I could never hate you.
Do I think it’s weird you and Nic somehow ended up in a situationship?
Yes, I absolutely do. But you’re both grown, consenting adults.
Why would I have an opinion about what you guys do? ”
“Because I was married to your brother.”
Having this conversation with Mal right now is incredibly surreal. I thought I would have to keep this secret for the rest of our lives, carrying the biggest lies I’ve ever told her with me to the grave. But here we are, talking about me and Dom like it’s no big deal.
“True, and you made him very happy for the entire time you two were together. Unless you’re about to tell me you and Nic had an affair before Eric died, I don’t know why it would be an issue.”
My throat constricts when she says “affair” because it immediately makes me think about the feelings Dom had for me before I even knew Eric. We never acted on them, but just the fact they exist could spell betrayal in Mal’s eyes.
“Sloane,” she says slowly. “You guys didn’t have an affair, right?”
I shake my head wildly. “No! Mal, of course not. We would never do anything like that to Eric. I mean, I didn’t even like Dom until we started working together on this project.”
“And what about him? Did he think of you that way before then?”
The question makes my stomach churn. Answering Mal without telling her about the night Dom and I met feels impossible, but broaching the subject while he isn’t here to explain his side of things feels wrong, especially when I don’t fully remember everything.
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
Mal leans forward, obviously intrigued and a little concerned by my hesitance. “Can’t go wrong with the truth.”
Her eyebrows wiggle, and I give her a weak smile before telling her everything I’ve pieced together from the night Dom and I met. The party, the list, the way he described our connection, and how those underlying feelings came back to life that night in Club Noir.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she rises from her seat and crosses over to the cabinet. I watch her pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses. “What are you doing?”
She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Pouring wine. We both need some after that story.”
I snort. “Pretty sure alcohol is what got me into this mess to begin with.”
“And I’m pretty sure you weren’t pounding back glasses of sauvignon blanc at a frat party.”
“How are you taking this so well?”