“Exactly,” Maggie says softly. “This isn’t a rebound, Sloane. This is you finally experiencing what a healthy connection feels like.”
The tears come then, hot and fast. “Then why did he leave? Why did he give up so easily?”
“Because he’s a good guy. He put your needs first, over his,” Riley states.
This makes me burst out crying even more.
Day five, and Chett won’t stop trying to contact me.
He’s tried texting from different numbers. He’s emailed. He’s sent messages through Instagram, Facebook, even LinkedIn.
“Who uses LinkedIn for relationship drama?” Riley demands, reading the latest message over my shoulder. “This is a professional networking site, you absolute walnut!”
The messages range from apologetic to angry to pleading.
CHETT: Baby, please just talk to me. I miss you so much.
CHETT: This is ridiculous. You’re throwing away our entire future. It was a mistake, Sloane, a fucking mistake. You’re not perfect either.
CHETT: I talked to your mom. She agrees you need to speak to me.
That one makes me see red. “He talked to my mom?”
“Block him,” Maggie says immediately. “On everything. And maybe we should talk to mom.”
Right. Mom.
She’s called six times since the cabin incident. I’ve answered twice, and both conversations ended with me in tears and her suggesting I’m making a mistake.
“She’s making this harder for you,” Maggie counters. “You need support right now, not judgment.”
“She thinks I’m throwing away nine years over one silly mistake.” I groan.
“It wasn’t one mistake,” Riley snaps. “It was a pattern of disrespect and manipulation that culminated in him fucking his assistant. That’s not a mistake. That’s a choice. Multiple choices.”
“I know that. But she keeps saying things like ‘relationships take work’ and ‘nobody’s perfect’ and I start to doubt myself.”
“Don’t,” Maggie says firmly. “Don’t let her make you doubt yourself. You caught him cheating. That’s not something you work through. That’s something you walk away from.”
I nod, wiping my eyes. “You’re right. You’re both right.”
“Of course we are,” Riley says. “We’re always right. It’s our thing.”
Day seven, and Riley forces me to watch a Christmas movie.
“It’s tradition!” she insists when I try to protest. “You love Christmas movies!”
“I loved them with Jax,” I mutter, but I let her put on some movie about a baker and a Christmas tree farmer.
Five minutes in, I’m crying.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asks, immediately concerned. “Do you hate it? We can turn it off.”
“No, it’s not that.” I wipe at my tears, frustrated with myself. “It’s just ... this was our thing. Me and Jax. We watched these together. And he actually loved them, you know? He didn’t just tolerate them for me. He genuinely enjoyed the cheesy plots and the predictable endings.”
“Oh, Sloane,” Riley says softly. “This is kind of pathetic.”
Maggie gasps, and I look at my best friend.
