I hate the idea of running into her looking like this, but my ego has to take a back seat to the panic coursing through my veins. I rack my brain for something to say, thinking maybe I can play it nice and distract her from the fact I have no reason to be outside of Dom’s place on a Saturday evening looking like I’m doing a walk of shame.
“Sloane.” She crosses her arms over her chest. There’s a small gift bag dangling from her fingers, and I wonder absently if it’s for Dom. “Thisis the last place I’d expect to run into you.”
“I know, right?” I glance back at the building and force out a laugh. “Dominic needed me to bring some papers by for the hotel renovation we’re working on together. Did he tell you about it?”
“No. I don’t think he mentioned it.” She looks me up and down, and I shift my weight to my other foot. “Forgive me for staring, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed so…casually.”
I bite my lip. Letting her take such an evident dig at me is pissing me off, but I know I have to play it cool because acting cagey and defensive will only make her more suspicious.
“I know!” My voice is a little too high and overly friendly as I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “I was on my way back home from Ash’s when he called. Hence the sleepover clothes.” I gesture awkwardly at my outfit and laugh again. “You remember Ash, right?”
She studies me for a second, her eyes snapping with frenzied energy that reminds me of the look the doctors onGrey’s Anatomyget when they finally crack a case, and for a second I start to get nervous. Then she throws her head back and laughs, and my worry dissipates.
“Of course! He’s such a nice guy.” Her lips quirk. “Please tell him hello for me the next time you guys talk.”
“I definitely will.” I move around her, rifling through my purse for my keys. “See you later, Kristen.”
“How was he?”
The words reach my ears just as my hand lands on the keys at the bottom of my purse, and I drop them again when I spin around to face her, wondering if I imagined the double entendre.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, how was Nic?” She takes a few steps forward, her ponytail swishing as she closes the distance between us. “Was he in a good mood? I mean, I know you two haven’t always gotten along, but I’m sure you know him better now after working with him for so long. In your expert opinion, is it safe for me to go up, or should I turn around now and give him his gift later?”
She dangles the bag in front of me, and I struggle to keep my face neutral. The idea of her going up there and being with him when I can’t makes me want to throw something.
“Um. I didn’t pay much attention to his mood, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” I finally pull out my keys and wave them at her. “I’ve got to run. See you around.”
Kristen waves and gives me a smile that’s supposed to be friendly but feels all wrong because it doesn’t match the triumphant glint in her eye that makes me feel like she’s just caught me in a lie.
“Later, Sloane.”
Chapter 41
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 fastmight 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 ashower 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.
