“What am I supposed to do though? Beg her to choose me instead of her family? I know what it’s like to lose your family. Even if they’re assholes, you still want them around in some way. I don’t want to be the one who makes that decision for her.”
“You don’t need to make a single decision for her—only for yourself. That girl has been choosing you for years. She’s just sick of waiting around for you to choose her back. Can’t say that I blame her. You’re slow as molasses to figure things out. And now she’s broken up with you. Anyone ever told you Sloane is the best you’ll ever get?”
“She didn’t break up with me. And yes, Willa told me that today. You’re all very thoughtful. Thank you for that.”
“Are you two talking?”
I turn and glare at him, but deep down, my heart races. Did she break up with me? I really am an idiot.
“I mean, there’s really only one question, Jasper.” He sips his coffee and leaves me hanging. Old man has to get his kicks somehow.
Dick.
“What’s the question?”
He shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Would you make that gamble?”
“Over and over again.”
I love hockey, but it’s not even close to how I love Sloane. Two weeks off of hockey compared to a few days without Sloane proved two things to me: I can live without hockey but I can’t live without Sloane.
He swats the back of my head lovingly. If that’s even a thing. “Then tell her, you idiot.”
A rapid knock at the door draws both our attention. Harvey slaps my knee. “I’ll get that. You sit here and stew in your own stupidity while you muster up a plan to make this right.”
I chuckle. Only Harvey could deliver an emotional pep talk and then mock me openly to make me laugh.
The hinges on the door creak, and I hear a voice I was not expecting. “Harvey.”
“Cordelia?”
I’m up and walking toward the front door, rounding the corner just in time to see Sloane’s mom lifting a Louis Vuitton suitcase as she says, “Any chance you have a spare room?” She looks down at her suitcase and then back up at Harvey. Her smile is watery. “I could really use a safe spot to get my bearings.”
“Of course. I—”
“Oh,” she breathes when she catches sight of me. “You’re here.”
I give her a nod, suddenly wishing I had my cap on to hide behind. “Mrs. Winthrop.”
She stares at me for longer than is comfortable, and her eyes fill with tears. “Don’t let him scare you off, Jasper.” She pins me with her light blue eyes, so similar to her daughter’s. “Don’t let him control you too. He’s a master. He gets his claws into you and suddenly you wake up in your fifties with nothing but a heaping pile of regret. The best thing I can do for her at this point is lead by example. I don’t want that life for Sloane. I don’t want him for Sloane. She’s going to need you to be there for her when she breaks free of them.”
“Them who?” I ask, alarm coursing through me as I put together what she’s saying. What she’s done.
I glance between Harvey and Cordelia. Harvey’s eyes are latched onto his late wife’s little sister with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
“Sterling. Robert. Men like them don’t take well to being slighted. They maneuver. They plan. This dinner won’t just be a birthday celebration. It’ll be a coup, and I can’t be there for it. Can’t watch her continue to get played by them.”
My heart thrums in my chest, hard and heavy. “She won’t be.”
Her mom sighs and looks at me sadly. “Maybe not, but it won’t stop them from trying.”
I grab my keys from the front table and leave them both with a nod.
“Jasper!” Cordelia calls out to me right as I get to my driver’s side door. “The Frontier Steakhouse.”
I almost laugh.
The place where it all started. I hate that fucking restaurant, yet I can’t get there fast enough.
She’s never left me behind, and I’m not leaving her behind either.
The only thought in my head as I make the hour-long drive back into the city is that Sloane needs me. She needs me to just be there with her.
And I love her.
37
Sloane
Mom: I’m sorry I can’t be there.
Sloane: I really don’t blame you. It won’t be a long meal. I can tell you that much.
Mom: You inspire me, Sloane.
Sloane: Inspire you?
Mom: To care less what anyone thinks. To put myself first. To be stronger.
Sloane: I don’t feel strong.
Mom: Oh, my darling. But you are. And I’ll never regret sending you that text, because that day you learned just how strong you can be.
From where I’m standing, I have the perfect view of Dad and Sterling sitting beside each other at a table by the window. They’ve got their heads together and smiles on their faces, like two little boys whispering in class.
Little boys.
That’s precisely what they are. After the last couple months spent in the presence of real men, I’m seeing the difference clearer than ever. It has nothing to do with money or education or a person’s public reputation. It has everything to do with what’s inside.
Soul. Heart. Actions speaking louder than words.
These two assholes can say whatever the hell they want. I’m not falling for it anymore. I see right through it.
For too long, I was a soft, demure little dove. And then they burned me. Scorched me.
Turns out I’m a dragon and I’m fed the fuck up with boys and their bullshit.
My shoulders roll back as I lean against the outside wall of Cartier across the street from The Frontier.
I’m a little hungover today. Winter and I hit it off. Turns out we have more in common than I ever imagined. She’s fun and totally down to drink too much cheap beer and lie on the floor with me.
I have her to thank for the power suit I’m wearing and also for the ride into the city. I also have her to look forward to as a neighbor in Chestnut Springs because once I’m done with this stupid fucking dinner, I’m heading straight back to that little house.
Where I belong. Where I feel like myself. I’ll figure the rest out as I go—for myself.
And there’s something freeing about having no rules. After a lifetime of having a path and plan laid out before me, I’m going to do . . . whatever the hell I want.
I roll my shoulders one more time, check both ways across the four lanes of traffic, and step onto the street.
Even jaywalking feels good.
I give the host a flat smile, holding one hand up. “No, thanks. I know where I’m going.” Without giving him a chance to answer, I march past, right toward the table by the window where two of the men I least want to see are seated.
I thought I’d be nervous, but I just feel . . . exhilarated.
“Dad, Sterling.”
Their heads snap up as though they’re surprised to see me. Usually, a staff member would guide me here, but that’s exactly what I didn’t want.
“Sloaney . . .” Sterling eyes me, head to toe. “You look very severe in that outfit.”
I almost laugh. After months of me ignoring him, that’s what he has to say.