19. Sloan
SLOAN
SIX MONTHS LATER
Turned out that breaking up with a politically powerful, vengeful, and asshole of a fiancé wasn’t quite as simple as leaving the night of her rehearsal dinner.
Sloan’s lawyer—hired by her father—Margaret Klinefelter, pointed to the next line for Sloan to sign.
She nearly sighed, then dragged her pen across the paper, watching as it left behind her signature.
Something about it made her feel sick, her thoughts drifting back to the days when she’d sat in the living room of the house she’d co-owned with Evan in Bozeman, practicing Sloan Tipton over and over again to make it perfect.
Then her thoughts went back further, to junior year of high school, when the last name she’d scrawled in her notebook at her desk hadn’t been Tipton at all, but Winnick, with hearts drawn around it.
Instead of being her husband, though, Evan now sat across from her at the conference table, lawyers flanking him, his expression like he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar.
Funny how easy it is for someone to go from being “your everything” to a stranger whose day-to-day life you know nothing about.
He didn’t even look at her.
Sloan’s lips pressed to a line as she set the pen down. “Is that it?”
Margaret nodded and smiled. “That should do it. Congratulations, Evan, you are now the sole owner of the house in Bozeman.”
Evan flicked a bored glance at Margaret and nodded.
Man, this should feel so much better than it does.
Sloan gave Margaret an obligatory smile anyway. “Thank you, for everything.”
At her side, Penny checked her watch. “If that’s everything, we should get going.
” She rose from the plush chair in the office, gathering her purse and directing a look at Margaret as she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.
“I’ll have my father call you to iron out anything else that still needs to be done. ”
Even though Sloan had told Penny she didn’t need her to come, she was glad that Penny had insisted on it. Not that Penny offered warmth, really, but her presence was enough. And she had as good a no-nonsense, businesswoman poker face as the best of them.
Sloan stood, too.
This is so weird.
Was she supposed to say goodbye to Evan? Or anything? Have a nice life, asshole, maybe?
But he didn’t say anything—studied the wall, instead.
So that’s that. An unglamorous end to the relationship that had dominated the majority of her adulthood.
Margaret joined Penny and Sloan just outside the door. “I think we’re almost there,” Margaret said to Sloan cheerfully, clasping her hands together. “You’re almost through it.”
Almost through it.
Sloan repeated the line to herself as she left the office.
The past six months had been . . . interesting.
Evan had screwed himself, thankfully, by attempting to defame Kyle, and that— surprisingly— had helped her get Sadie back, which was the important part when all was said and done.
But the Tipton lawyers had played hardball on everything , from threatening to sue for damages relating to wedding costs and more, until Sloan had signed an NDA to simply walk away, dog in one hand, dignity semi-intact in the other.
She hadn’t cared about the furniture or the ring or, in the end, even having the ability to bury Evan’s hopes for a political career by telling the world about Tasha.
She just wanted out.
“Are you happy?” Penny asked, her voice brisk as they stopped in front of the elevators.
“Happy’s a weird word for it,” Sloan said, flicking her eyes at her sister. She frowned. Penny looked drawn and almost pale, as though she’d been working too much. Not that Sloan would comment on it. Penny prided herself on working almost as much as Dad.
“Well, you should be happy. The money from the Bozeman house will help you with that brand-new start you keep going on about.” Penny pressed the button to call the elevator.
Sloan bit her lip. Penny didn’t approve of Sloan’s plans to move halfway across the country, but she couldn’t quite understand why.
It’s not like Penny would miss her. They’d spent more time together in Margaret’s office the past few months than they had doing anything that remotely resembled having an actual sisterly relationship.
When she didn’t answer, Penny grimaced. “I still think—”
“I know. You still think I should accept Dad’s offer to work for him again.” Sloan stepped into the elevator as the doors opened. Penny followed. “But that part of my life is done, Pen. I’m not good at it anyway.”
The doors closed, and Penny crossed her arms. “Speaking of things that you’re not interested in,” she said, “That journalist from The DC Gazette , Jennifer Larson, emailed me again.”
Sloan groaned. The woman had been relentless, hoping to get an exclusive about everything that had happened in January. “Couldn’t talk to her if I wanted to, so just please tell her no.”
Penny frowned. “I know you signed that NDA,” she said, not bothering to hide her unhappiness about it from her tone, “but are you sure you don’t want to say something to give your side of the story? Evan really did a lot to slander you, Sloan. Setting the record—”
“I’m not interested,” Sloan said sharply.
In fact, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less than talk to a journalist about the whole nasty affair.
“Not to mention that it would be a huge risk now with the NDA. If I say anything Evan’s lawyers see as out of line, I could be risking my entire financial future. ”
Penny huffed. “You wouldn’t have to be if you’d just let Dad help you.”
Sloan gripped the strap of her purse. “Is it really so unimaginable that I would want to stand on my own two feet? I don’t think there’s anything unnoble about that.”
The elevator doors opened again, and both women exited.
Penny slowed at the sight of Cheyenne, who sat on a bench nearby, waiting for Sloan.
“I don’t think it’s unnoble. Just unnecessary,” Penny said flatly.
“But it’s your decision.” She gave Sloan a tight smile and nodded.
“Thanks for letting me come. I’ll see you this afternoon at Dad’s, before you leave. ”
“Thanks for coming,” Sloan said as Penny left with a wave to Cheyenne. Maybe she should feel worse about how stilted her interactions with her sister were, but it had been this way for years, and sadly, Penny didn’t seem interested in it being any different, either.
Cheyenne stood as Sloan moved toward her. “How’d it go?” Cheyenne asked brightly.
“It’s done,” Sloan said in as positive a tone as she could muster, almost sing-songing. “I’m free.”
“We have to celebrate.” Cheyenne hugged her.
Sloan hesitated, then allowed herself to sink into Cheyenne’s hug. She didn’t really want to celebrate, but lunch, at least, would be a good idea. Cheyenne had only come to San Francisco for this, after all. The least she could do is treat her to a meal.
“There’s a great Thai place down the street,” Sloan said, straightening.
Cheyenne grinned. “That sounds amazing.”
They headed out from the lobby, Sloan leading.
Truthfully, Cheyenne had been a rock the last couple of months. She felt almost as bad as her parents, Tallulah and George, for their part in Kyle’s arrest.
Not that they could have known.
Not that any of them could have known.
They’d simply been trying to protect Sloan.
But none of it changed the fact that Kyle had been arrested because of her, his name besmirched, and that there had been complete radio silence since then.
She’d thought he would call first thing when he got out of jail, but then she’d remembered he couldn’t have reached her as she didn’t have a phone. It wasn’t until she’d been staying with Tallulah and George that she bought a new phone.
But . . . nothing.
Had he not saved my number after I called on the eve of my wedding?
So, she’d waited, trying to be patient, trying to respect the silence. Maybe he didn’t want to talk. Maybe he didn’t want to be part of the spectacle that had been her life. That was fair.
Finally, after a couple of weeks of contentious exchanges with Evan, she’d changed her number and decided to send Kyle a text with her new one and an apology. Nothing huge, just a cracked door.
His silence had been deafening.
And that, of course, had sent Sloan into a spiral. Of watching his YouTube channel. Sleeping in his shirt, which she’d kept like a brokenhearted college student after an unexpected breakup. Anger, sadness, then anger again.
Then she’d decided she needed to reach out. Call his family, at the very least, and let them know she was in possession of Granny Winnick’s ashes. Maybe she’d even hoped that would force Kyle to talk to her.
But, as it turned out, the Winnicks were difficult to get in touch with. Kyle’s parents had moved, and their address was private. Because of Elle’s fame and both Elle and Liddy being married to wealthy men, no one in the family had a number that was accessible.
The blare of a honking car ripped her from her thoughts, and she startled, her gaze settling on the city street.
Cable car bells clanged in the distance, and the air smelled faintly of coffee and sourdough from a bakery as she passed it.
Sloan walked beside Cheyenne in silence, still unable to find any of the words she wanted, her eyes drifting over brightly painted Victorians peeking between newer glass-fronted buildings, all of it charming in that slightly chaotic, too-pretty-to-be-real way.
She’d tried to love it here. And in pieces, she had.
But the hills still made her calves ache, the crowds felt like static under her skin, and the city had a way of reminding her—at every crosswalk, every café window—that this was a place she’d passed through, not one she’d chosen.
A breeze off the bay cut through her jacket, cool and salty, lifting her hair. She tucked it back and glanced at the street stretching ahead of them.
Pretty. But not mine.
“So,” Cheyenne said, as though she’d decided the silence had stretched too far, “are you all packed?”