She nods, guilt flickering in her eyes. “Yes. You’ve always been so adamant about not having the same vices as your dad.”
“That was before I accepted the truth about myself.”
“Dom, you have to know you’re nothing like him.”
“How would you know, Sloane? You’ve never met him.”
“And I don’t need to. I’ve heard the stories, and I know you’re a better man than he could ever be.”
I cross my arms, fighting back the swell of emotions her words elicit. For so long, all I’ve wanted was to be known by her. For her to look at me and really see me. Not her enemy. Not her husband’s best friend who she barely tolerates.Me.
The man who braved a thousand hells just to let her continue to dance through the clouds of heaven.
“He would disagree with you.” I see the exact moment she puts it alltogether. The vodka, the self-loathing, the thinly veiled rage eating me alive. She leans forward in her seat, inching closer to me.
“When did you see him?”
My fingers tap along the arm of the chair as I consider whether I want to answer her question. We haven’t talked about my dad since the day she told me about the miscarriage and her fight with Eric, and I’ve been determined to keep it that way. To protect her from the ugliest parts of me. But we’re done now, and there’s no point in hiding anymore.
“On Friday night, when his nurse called to tell me he only has a few months to live.”
Her brows raise in surprise, and I know she gets it. She accused me of leaving her bed that night because of the tattoo, and maybe her asking about it did scare me, but it wasn’t the whole reason I left. And I never got to explain, because by the time I got back to her, we were in crisis mode and everything, including her, was spiraling out of my control.
“Dom, I’m so sorry.”
She starts to reach for me then thinks better of it and pulls back, tucking her fingers into her lap. Every inch of my skin aches for her, desperate for the touch she’s suddenly so reluctant to give. And I’m hit with the realization that this is what the rest of my life will be like: the almost touches, the awkwardness of pulling away when all you want to do is move forward.
I drag my gaze back to her face. “Why are you here?”
“I told you I needed to see you.” There’s a gentle waver in her voice that calls to me, tugging at my need to protect her. To do whatever it takes to make the uncertainty lacing her features go away.
Hard to do that when you’re the one who put it there.
“Yes, but you never said why.”
“I want to talk about last night. I have questions, and maybe some answers, about that day you might be interested in.”
My jaw flexes as I stare at her, and I watch her trace the sharp line withher eyes. She’s probably trying to gauge my mood based on the movement of the muscle there.
“You think there’s something about that nightyoucan tell me? I remember every second of it, Sloane. From the dress you were wearing to the exact words you said when you walked up to me and sat on my lap.”
I bark out a laugh when her brows raise further. How can she give me answers about that night when she still doesn’t remember the most basic details of our time together?
She shakes her head. “I don’t have any answers about that night, but I do have some about the morning after.”
Now my interest is sparked. I’ve spent twelve years wondering what happened the morning after I left her, and I’ve imagined all sorts of scenarios, including one where she saw the note and threw it in the trash because she woke up regretting everything.
“What about it?”
“Like I said last night, when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember anything besides making the list and going to the party, but I did keep feeling like I was forgetting something. There was this voice I kept hearing, telling me to call them in the morning, and I thought it was from a dream, because I couldn’t remember anyoneactuallysaying it to me.” Her tongue darts out, swiping over her bottom lip. “I even asked my friends to help me figure out what happened, but they never saw us together, and no one could figure out why you wouldn’t save your number in my phone if you were real.”
Something like joy goes through me as I listen to her describe making some attempt to find me even when she wasn’t sure I was real, and it makes me a little more willing to walk her through the details.
“When you found me on the back porch, you said they left you to go hook up with some guys. By the time we left, they were nowhere to be found. I walked you back to your place and put you in bed. You asked me to stay, but I was afraid you wouldn’t remember anything in the morningand didn’t want to risk freaking you out. I wanted to give you my number, but your phone was dead, so I left the note instead.”
I can’t keep the pain out of my voice, because I did everything I could to protect our connection. I thought ahead, I considered all the possibilities, and I still lost her. The thought of finding out why after all these years has my throat tight.
Sloane’s eyes go soft. “I never got that note, Dom. My mom took it. She was in my room when I woke up the next morning, and she saw it on my desk.”
