With my father.
Oh, my God. That baby might have been my dad’s. That could have been my half-brother or sister.
This is too fucked up. I need to get out of here.
This is the wrench I was waiting for. There’s at least one in every relationship, and this is ours. It’s been thrown into the mix now, creating the type of clusterfuck I was anticipating, though maybe not to this level.
The hammer has been dropped. And I’m not going to stick around to see what else is in this wretched, godforsaken toolbox.
“I can’t do this.”
I brush past them and take off for the exit.
“Sloane!”
I ignore my father, I ignore the people staring, I ignore the anguished look on Carter’s face just before I march past him.
I am so damn stupid.
When will I freaking learn?
It’s in this moment I realize with absolute certainty that I can’t read men for shit. This is how I wound up married to a jackass in the first place. By believing that the fluttery kind of puppy love feelings I had for Grant in the very beginning were the makings of true love. I ignored all of his bad and fluffed up the things I thought were good, making him out to be a much better match for me than he really was. A better person than he really was.
How has what I’ve been doing with Carter any different?
This all started because I was gung-ho about being single for the first time in four years, and Carter was the first attractive man to stumble across my path. I thought he was hot, and with some prodding from my friends, I thought some rebound sex sounded like a fantastic idea.
That’s where it should have ended.
But instead, I went all classic Sloane again and got swept up in his sexy words and bedroom prowess, thinking I had developed actual feelings for him. It’s what I warned Gretchen about. I know I have the tendency to do this. In a nutshell, I liked having sex with him, so I thought that meant I liked him.
Why, why, why do I do this?
Despite my dead and buried feelings for Grant, I knew I was too raw from the divorce settlement. I knew my emotions couldn’t be trusted. Yet that didn’t stop me from riding the Carter train to Infatuation Town. Every time I inflate my feelings like this, it inevitably blows up in my face.
It’s a vicious cycle that I have to break.
And I will.
Starting right now.
I don’t know how far down the sidewalk I’ve gotten from the café when I’m spun around into the same strong, protective arms that were holding me in peaceful slumber less than twelve hours ago.
“Sloane, wait. Listen to me.”
“There’s nothing more to explain, Carter.” My voice is wooden. “This was fun for a few days, but it’s over now.”
The sound of his jaw ticking as he swallows reaches my ears over the car engines on the street and voices of tourists meandering the sidewalk around us. For some reason, that sound from his throat rips me completely open. He doesn’t usually let many of his emotions show—I’ve learned that in the last week—but he’s got certain tells.
That slow swallow is one of them.
“Is that all this has been to you? Just a fun little fling?”
That gets my back up. I sure as hell didn’t think it was just some fun little fling twenty minutes ago. I thought it was something real and meaningful.
So, so stupid.
For once, I don’t tell the inner ho to shut up because she’s right.
“That’s all it can be,” I snap. “For once, I need to actually be rational. I’ve only known you a week, Carter, and if I’ve learned anything today, it’s that I never knew you at all. You can’t find out who someone really is in a week. But it’s more than enough time for me to realize how epically stupid I’ve been.”
He shakes his head in denial. “The thing is, Sloane, you’re not stupid. Which means you know we have something here. You know this thing between us is real.”
“I don’t know that—”
“And I’m asking you to give it a shot. You’re right. A week isn’t enough time to build something solid. So, give me more than a week.”
“Are you crazy? How am I supposed to ignore the past?” I’m actually desperate for an answer right now. “I mean, what do you think fate is trying to tell us?”
His hands frame my face. “We don’t ignore the past, but we move on from it. I can’t erase what I did, though God knows I would give anything to. Please, please don’t let something we can’t change now be the only thing that keeps us apart. That can’t be the only reason I don’t get to have you. Over mistakes I made nine years ago.”
His voice cracks on those last few words.
My heart cracks right along with it.
“It won’t work between us,” I whisper. “I just got divorced. My head’s been screwed up for years. I need to get it back on straight. I mean, you want marriage and children now, and why shouldn’t you? You were ready for children ten years ago. And I’m not, Carter. I can’t be a mother yet. I can’t get married again so soon.”
He’s shaking his head again, tightening his hold on my face. “I don’t care about getting married and having kids right now. I’ll wait for all of that as long as you need me to. I’m not going to rush you if it means I risk losing you.”
I can’t give in to hope.
I know this needs to end right here, right now.
I need distance to work through everything. I cannot keep thinking with my feelings instead of with my brain.
I recall our conversation last night in bed. Already feels like it was a million years ago. “I reacted emotionally with you. I acted irrationally. And this right here is the ugly. This is what can happen when you act on the impulses that you shouldn’t. When you don’t think.”
“Some of the best things in life happen when you don’t think,” he insists vehemently. “This is one of those times. I know you feel that, Sloane. Don’t ignore it.”
It’s like a switch is suddenly flipped, and numbness consumes me. I can’t handle any more of this right now.
“Even if I could overlook the fact that your actions nearly destroyed my own father”—which I don’t even know is possible—“you were just my rebound.”
His brows slam together in agony, but I push forward. Otherwise, I’ll never have the strength to walk away from this man.
“You were there to make me feel good when I needed a boost, to help me move on. You did, and now we’re done. Because rebounds don’t turn into relationships.”
He drops his hands and steps back, putting some much-needed, painfully hollow distance between our bodies. “That’s how you really feel?”
Whatever my expression looks like right now, I know that it’s rueful and absolute. “The fact that I feel anything at all for someone I’ve only known for a week proves that all I’ve managed to do is fool myself. I can’t trust feelings that were born solely from lust and sex. The last time I did that, it ended in divorce.”
I regret those words more than anything else.
Because it’s the only time I’ve ever lied to him.
His face lets me know the jab hits its mark. Then a veil of indifference falls over his features as he straightens his shoulders. “I apologize for wasting your time, Miss Williams. I’ll leave you to get on with your life. Go have fun and enjoy your twenties as a single woman.”
Then he turns on his heel and walks away.
I stand there unmoving, watching him turn the corner, and wonder how I went from wishing he would let me go to wishing he would hold onto me forever in the span of five minutes.
I thought hearing the truth back at the café was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt.
But watching him leave me with such a cold expression—and without once hearing him call me darlin’—is unbelievably worse.
“Ladies, she’s in love and miserable. It’s our duty to fix it.”
My eyes crack open at Gretchen’s pronouncement. “Are yo
u talking about me?”
I can’t see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses, but I know she’s rolling them. “No, the other sulking pale face moping around like a lovesick debutante.”
I glare at her, which I know she sees because I’m not wearing sunglasses. In fact, I’m the only one lazing beneath the shade of a large umbrella while the other three are soaking up the sun from their uncovered chairs.
Easy for them.
They don’t burn, blister, or peel like a certain pasty white girl.
“I am not lovesick. In fact, love isn’t even in the ballpark. Nothing about what went down had anything to do with love.”
Quinn scoffs from the end of the row. “Yeah, and I’m a Kennedy.”
Harper leans up on her elbow, smiling sadly at me. “I’m usually the one who has to drag everyone to the beach, hon. But you couldn’t lather on your sunscreen fast enough today.”
I may not be the type who flocks to Folly Beach the second summer hits like so many other Charlestonians. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy soaking—or not soaking—up the sun on a stifling, humid day like today. I mean, who doesn’t love getting sand up their crack and sweating so much their sunscreen drips into their eyes?
I’m thrilled to be here.
“I don’t see how that’s moping,” I argue. “I haven’t locked myself inside a dark room for the past week, crying into a carton of ice cream.”
“No, because that’s not how you mope,” Gretchen retorts. “The Sloane version of moping involves doing a bunch of things you wouldn’t normally do because you think they’ll help distract you from the pain.”
My mouth tightens as I slump back down in my chair. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t do that. Everything’s fine.”
“Really?” Quinn pipes up. “Then what was up with taking that jazzercise class earlier in the week?”
“Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“And wanting to buy that turtle at the pet store?” Harper chimes in.
“He looked lonely.”
“Babe, you brought home Jamaican jerk chicken the other night for dinner,” Gretchen says in her standard don’t bullshit me voice.
“So? Like you didn’t devour it.”
“You hate spicy food. Not to mention, the number of desserts you’ve massacred this week borders on genocide. It’s an atrocity, the amount of sugar you’ve wasted.”
That part actually is true, so I shut my mouth.
It’s staggering how different this past week without Carter has been compared to the one before with Carter. After watching him walk away, everything about my life suddenly felt incredibly empty. Hence, all the distractions my annoying friends feel the need to address. I was hoping the distractions would fill the void that Carter left behind.
But the vacuum is still there.
I know this is just the beginning stage of getting over someone, though. It takes time to remember how to live your life without them, even if my life with Carter only lasted a week. And I’ve already convinced myself that what I felt for him wasn’t love—merely infatuation—so it’s not going to take as long to forget about him as it would have if we’d dated for years.
Hey, Rumpelstiltskin. Quit spinning gold out of your ass.
Besides, I need some time by myself. I’ve had so little since entering adulthood, I need to do that whole self-discovery thing without a husband or boyfriend. That’s what your twenties are for, right?
You already know who you are. Otherwise, you never would have divorced Grant.
The ho is wrong.
I divorced Grant so that I could discover my true self. Because I didn’t like whoever that version was that married him.
“You know you miss him,” Gretchen says in a gentler voice, cutting through my thoughts.
I shrug, refusing to look at her. “Who wouldn’t miss the best sex of their life? But sex is temporary. What we had was far from permanence.”
“How do you know if you didn’t stick around long enough to really find out?” Quinn challenges, her head popping up from its lounged position.
I force her words to go in one ear and out the other. I don’t need to get confused all over again. “It’s like Gretchen said. Rebounds aren’t supposed to last.”
“Ah, but that’s where you screwed up, hon,” Harper says slyly. “You picked a guy to rebound with who is the type to last. You picked someone you could actually fall for. And then you did.”
Gretchen hums in agreement. “If you really wanted a sex-only thing, you should have found someone you had absolutely no connection with. Then there’s no issue when it’s time to cut and run.”
My glare is back in place when I look over at her. “You might have mentioned that before you pushed me toward him at the bar. I’ve never rebounded before. I didn’t know the rules. I told you he made me laugh, and you encouraged it, Gretch.”
She smiles proudly, peeking out the side of her sunglasses. “I saw the way you two looked at each other. You don’t snuff out sparks like that. You fan them until they turn into flames and singe your panties right off.”
Harper giggles. Quinn snorts.
I want to be annoyed, but the image of Carter gazing heatedly at me that first night in the bar banks my irritation. God, just the memory of that expression threatens to disintegrate my bikini bottoms.
It. Was. Just. Infatuation.
You really are stupid. You know you love him.
“The whole thing with your dad’s company is crazy, though,” Harper says. “I guess that would be hard to forget.”
I throw my hands up. “Thank you. Exactly. How am I supposed to interpret the odds of me hooking up with the same lawyer that took him down? What does it mean?”
“Maybe nothing,” Quinn offers. “There are such things as coincidences. And you said he’s not that type of person anymore, right? He wouldn’t do something like that again.”
I roll over onto my side to face the three of them. “The fact is that he did it in the first place. And to my father. It’s just another reminder that I know very little about the man.”
“But look at it from his perspective,” Gretchen says. “If he’s truly regretful of what he did, and he can’t change the past, does he deserve to pay for it for the rest of his life? I mean, what would any of us do if our husband had an affair and got the woman pregnant? I can tell you right now I’d cut a bitch. And by bitch, I mean my husband.”
“That’s true,” Harper agrees.
“Yeah, some guys would have just killed your dad.”
“Thanks for that, Quinn.”
“The way I see it,” Gretchen adds, silencing us. “It’s one of those situations where no one can come out the victor. Carter lost his wife and possibly a baby. Your dad had an affair with a married woman and lost his company. Everyone was hurt in the end. I say they should just call a truce, and wipe the slate clean.”
Begrudgingly—if I’m playing devil’s advocate here—I have to admit it’s likely that Daddy never would have met Rachelle and found true happiness if he hadn’t lost everything.
But were his struggles worth it?
For true happiness? If it were me, I would say yes.
“So, where does that leave me?” I ask.
Gretchen shrugs. “That all depends on how you feel about the man. Technically, the past didn’t involve you, so my advice is to remain in the neutral zone. Everything between you and Carter is independent of his business with your dad. Don’t blur the lines.”
“I think they’re already blurred,” I grumble.
“Well, that’s when you just say fuck it and drain the man until all of his cum wells dry up.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I need to move out.”
Gretchen blows me an air kiss. “You’ll thank me one day. If nothing else, I gave you the best sex of your life.”
“You might want to re-phrase that,” Quinn deadpans.
More giggling from Harper.
The sound draws Quinn’s at
tention to her ex-stepsister. “Speaking of quick turnarounds, sis, I take it you haven’t shared your blessed news?”
Gretchen and I simultaneously turn to our blonde friend, who’s usual golden tan has suddenly turned a bright red.
“Oh?” Gretchen says in a sing-song voice. “What secrets are you hiding over there, Barbie?”
When Harper doesn’t answer quickly enough, Quinn jabs her thumb in her direction. “She’s moving in with her Ken doll.”
I shoot up in my chair. “What?”
Gretchen snickers. “Trying to lock down the boy toy, Harp? I like it.”
Harper whips off her sunglasses, groaning. “I’m not trying to lock anything down. But with Quinn moving out for her summer job, and Sloane staying in Gretchen’s spare bedroom, I have to find a new place to live. I can’t really afford a place by myself in the city. Shae likes her space, so she doesn’t want a roommate. His lease is up next month, so we just figured it would be easier and cheaper to move in together.”
I totally forgot about Quinn’s summer job. She raises and trains horses with her dad and apparently, some foundation is hiring them for the summer to start a new breeding program on some rich guy’s estate. She’ll be living on the estate throughout the duration of the program, which means Harper is out a roommate.
“What about living with your mom—”
Harper doesn’t let Gretchen finish the question. “You know that’s not an option. I’m not asking her for anything, let alone a place to live.”
Several beats of tense silence pass. Harper’s relationship with her southern socialite mother is not exactly a harmonious one. Contentious is putting it mildly.
“You like him that much?” I ask, still stunned. Harper isn’t usually the spontaneous type. “Enough to live with him? I mean, hasn’t it only been a couple of weeks?”
She frowns in thought. “I know it’s crazy, but it just feels right with him. I can’t really explain it. But for the first time in my life, I feel like I should just go for it and take the risk.”
That’s exactly how it felt with Carter.
How it still feels.
But it will go away. I just have to give it more time.
The Divorce Attorney Page 16
