Another silence, longer this time. Jax’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
“Oh, honey,” Mom says finally, and her voice has softened. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.”
“It was.”
“But ...” Here it comes. I can hear the ‘but’ coming from a mile away. “Are you sure you can’t work through this? Couples therapy, maybe? Nine years is a long time, sweetheart. And everyone makes mistakes.”
“Mistakes?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “He made a choice, Mom. Multiple choices. To cheat. To lie. To blame me for it.”
“He blamed you?”
“Said I’d been distant. That I’d let myself go. That she made him feel wanted.”
“That’s …” She stops, gathering herself. “That’s not fair. That’s not right. But, Sloane, are you sure you’re thinking clearly? You’ve been under so much stress with work and wedding planning. Maybe you need some time to process before you make any permanent decisions.”
My chest tightens. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Even now, even knowing what Chett did, she’s suggesting I reconsider.
“I am thinking clearly, Mom. For the first time in a long time.”
“Where are you right now? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe. I rented a cabin to clear my head. Got caught in the storm.”
“Alone? You’re alone in a cabin during a blizzard?”
I glance at Jax, who’s watching me with concern. “Not exactly alone. Someone helped me. Made sure I was okay.”
“Who?”
“Just ... a friend.” The word feels inadequate for what Jax is, but I don’t know how else to describe him.
“A friend.” Mom’s voice has taken on a suspicious tone. “What kind of friend?”
“The kind who was there when I needed help.”
“Sloane ...” She sighs. “Please tell me you’re not doing anything rash. You’re vulnerable right now. Hurt. You’re not thinking straight.”
And there it is. The implication that I can’t be trusted to make my own decisions. That I’m too emotional, too broken to know what I want.
“I need to go, Mom.”
“Sloane, wait …”
“I’ll call you when I’m back in Denver. We can talk more then.”
“Your father and I love you. We just want what’s best for you.” She throws out to me.
“I know. I love you too. Bye, Mom.”
I hang up before she can say anything else and just sit there, staring at the phone in my hand.
“Are you okay?” Jax asks quietly.
“She wanted me to reconsider. To maybe try therapy with him. Like what he did is something we can just work through.”
“Maybe she’s worried about you.”
“I know. But it’s also ...” I set the phone down carefully. “It’s reality. My parents are practical people. Nine years is a long investment to them. They probably already told people about the wedding. Sent save-the-dates.”
