“I haven’t the slightest clue, Sloane. It was twelve years ago.”
“Mom.”
Another flash of annoyance, this one born solely from being pushed to tell the truth for once in her miserable life. She picks an invisible bit of lint off of her dress. “I put it in the trash where it belonged. Any man you met while you were dressed like a slut and behaving like some around-the-way girl wasn’t worthy of being associated with the Carson name.”
My heart pounds, and I struggle for a response as I absorb this new layer of truth. “Why are you making it sound like you did me some kind of favor? You went through my things and made a choice for me based on what you wanted, not what I needed!”
“What you needed, little girl, was someone to save you from yourself. You think you know everything, Sloane, and you always have, but I know more about this world than you ever will. Maybe if you’d let me make more choices for you, you wouldn’t be a thirty-year-old widow who works onSaturdays.”
Several seconds tick by as I stare at her, wondering, not for the first time, what I ever did to make her hate me so much. Mothers are supposed to be kind, loving, and supportive of their children, but mine has only ever beenthis.
Throughout my entire life, she’s taken a sick pleasure in hurting me, in reminding me nothing I did was good enough for her, and I’ve always laid down and taken it. Allowing her to mistreat me because of a biological connection she’s never valued or protected.
And I’m over all of it.
“I’m done, Mom.” I grab my purse and slide out of my seat. “With this toxic relationship, your snide little comments about my marriage and my choices, all of it. And I’m done with you.”
“Another dramatic exit.” She scoffs. “You’re not going to guilt me into apologizing by storming out of here, Sloane. I stand by all the things I’ve said and done. One day when you’re a mother, and you find yourself making the same choices as me, you’ll understand.”
The last sentence sends me over the edge, and I’m in her face in the space of a heartbeat. My teeth are clenched, and I feel like a wild animal as I sneer at her.
“You are not a mother. You’re a self-centered narcissist who cares more about status and perception than you’ve ever cared about me. I don’t expect you to apologize, because I know you wouldn’t mean it. And for the record, if I ever have a child, I’ll never be the kind of mother you were to me.”
For the first time in my life, I believe it. And my heart aches for the version of myself that doubted it for so long. For what that doubt cost me and Eric.
“Lauren! Sloane!” a voice says from somewhere over my shoulder, and I turn around to see my mother’s friend Ella Hamilton sauntering over to us. “How nice to see you two together!”
My mother’s smile is fraught with tension as she stands and embraces Ella. “Yes, we’re so glad Sloane could join us for brunch, but she was just leaving.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.” Ella gives me a fake smile. “I guess you won’t mind if I steal your mother away for a moment then?”
“Not at all.”
We all know stealing someone away for a moment is just code for saving them from an unpleasant conversation, but I don’t care, because I’ve said everything I need to say to my mother. Our conversation hasanswered some vital questions for me about what happened the day after I met Dom. Now I feel like I have an important piece of the puzzle, but I still don’t have all the facts.
And I know there’s only one way to get them.
Chapter 39
Dominic
Now
Sloane:I need to see you.
The words of Sloane’s latest message swim around the screen, and I blink slowly to try and get them to stand still. When my phone buzzed an hour ago, the last name I expected to see was hers, but there it was. My brain refused to believe I wasn’t imagining it, so I stared at the first message, and the ones that followed, and took a swig of the vodka my father gave me every time one came through.
Deciding to take that first drink was easier than I thought it would be, but then again, it’s easy to give in to the monster inside of you when life has already snatched away every reason to keep it locked away. When I got back from Sloane’s place last night, my resolve was already waning, but when I woke up this morning without her in my arms, it broke completely.
And the bottle I left sitting on my coffee table yesterday called to me, promising the gift of numbness and the ability to forget how incredibly wrong I was about everything.
I thought I could rewrite history. I thought I could claim Sloane’s heart with lies and keep it without dealing with the consequences of telling them, but I was wrong. And now we’re both bleeding out, gutted by the truth I waited too long to tell.
Hurting Sloane was never my intention, but there’s no amount of alcohol that can make me forget the horror on her face when I finally told her the truth or the way her eyes flashed with steely determination when she told me to leave. As if everything we shared over the past month meant nothing to her at all.
And maybe it didn’t.
At our first lunch together, I heard her say she took a vow to never fall in love again, and despite the brief moment I spent thinking her jealousy over the tattoo meant something more, it seems she’s determined to keep that promise. Eric will be the last man she loves in this life, and it doesn’t matter that her heart knew mine first.
