“Thank you.” I shoot him a sarcastic smile before moving to the chair beside the window, across from my dad. As far away from Sterling as possible.
Dad’s eyes sweep over me, assessing me, and I wonder what he sees. I wonder if he can tell I’ve lifted the veil and see him more clearly than ever.
I don’t hate him. I am indifferent toward him.
He used to tell me he wasn’t angry, just disappointed with me. And that’s how I feel about him now.
Deeply disappointed. Because I’ll always love him. He’s always been someone I’ve looked up to, and to find out that was all fabricated, or not true to his character, is disappointing. Knowing that another man in my life didn’t love me quite enough to overcome his own shit stings.
But it stings less with my hair pulled back, nails painted blood red, and wearing a black pantsuit with shiny tuxedo lapels.
Winter was right. I feel ready to kick ass and take names.
“Happy birthday, Sloane,” Robert says, lifting a glass of wine without offering me one.
I reach over and pour myself a big one. Another faux pas at a place like this is not waiting for the server—or to over-pour the way I just did.
But I’m fucking done waiting around for these men to get their shit together, and I deserve a jug of wine for even being here.
“Thanks, Dad,” I finally reply after leaving them both hanging with their glasses in the air while I poured. Clearly, neither of them is gentlemanly enough to offer.
Glasses clink and we drink. I keep my eyes laser-focused on my dad and roll my lips together primly, tasting the wine. It’s expensive, but I’d rather crush a Buddyz Best.
“When’s Mom coming?” I glance around the restaurant, really putting on a show of it, but I know she isn’t coming. She told me she isn’t. Mom also told me she found that video on Dad’s phone and sent it to me anonymously on my wedding day. I assume it was blackmail fodder.
It would seem she and I came to our senses right around the same time. It would seem Robert Winthrop has finally pushed us both too far.
“She’s a little under the weather today. It’s just the three of us tonight.”
“Actually . . .” a voice I never expected to hear chimes in. My heart lurches in my chest, composure slipping for just a second. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I turn to see Jasper standing at the end of the table, looking heart-stopping in a perfectly tailored suit, eyes on me, smug grin on his lips. “It’s going to be the four of us.” He steps toward me with authority, leans down and tips my chin up to him, eyes capturing mine with a look of ferocity. “Sunny, I’m sorry I’m late.”
Late.
It’s such a simple sentiment. But it warms me from the inside all the same.
He’s here.
All I can manage is a firm nod, one he returns before pressing a bristled kiss to my forehead and taking a seat beside me.
My rock. My comfort. The boy with the sad eyes and the heart of gold.
I turn toward him. “You have a same.” I glance down at the dainty Rolex on my wrist. “Right now.”
“We made a promise in that truck, remember? I can’t go without you again. Nothing is more important than being here with you.” He palms my knee under the table and inclines his head toward my outfit. “You are stunning, by the way.”
Nothing is more important than being here with you.
I swallow a couple of times, unable to tear my eyes from the man before me. The promise. He’s right. And I promised him too.
“Jasper . . .”
His hand squeezes reassuringly. “The answer is yes, Sloane.”
My head tilts. “Yes, what?”
“I’ll take that gamble. All day long. Every damn day.”
My eyes sting and I will away the wetness. I’m not going to cry here. I will not let my dad and Sterling be privy to this moment.
When I glance over at the two men, the fury is clear on their faces.
“You are not part of this conversation, Gervais.” My dad glares at him like he might make him cower. But that power has slipped from between his fingers, right before his eyes.
Jasper leans back in his chair, smirks, and settles in. “You’re right about something, at least. I’m not here to contribute. I won’t say a word. I’m just here to be with Sloane.”
“You’re overstepping,” Sterling whines, practically vibrating with fury. “You don’t belong here.”
Jasper smiles at him, keeping his cool and poking at the men across from him in the process.
“Enough,” I snap. “Was there something you both needed to say to me? Because I think I’ve made myself crystal clear. I told you”—I point at my dad—“that I would speak to you when I was ready.” I shift my finger over to Sterling. “But I never want to speak to you again.”
“Sloane, you need to get over your hurt feelings.”
I arch a brow at Sterling. “You just don’t get it, do you? What you do with your dick doesn’t hurt my feelings. What you did with your dick was merely a wake-up call. A wake-up call that I don’t care about you even a little bit. I am indifferent. It’s been easy to ignore you because I don’t think about you at all.”
The more I talk, the more Sterling matches the deep red color of the wine in his glass. The more Jasper’s fingers slide along the inside seam of my wide-leg pants, the more my confidence builds. Just having him here, next to me . . .
It’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’re so much better together than we are apart.
“That’s only because you’ve been whoring around with this trailer trash.”
Jasper’s entire body goes taut beside me. My mouth pops open in shock at the venom in Sterling’s words and tone. It might be the most passionate I’ve ever seen him over anything other than barrel-aged scotch and hunting exotic animals.
I’m about to say as much when Jasper jerks and Sterling’s gasped squeal reaches my ears. An expression of alarm flashes across his features right as his face tips back and disappears backward in a splash of red wine and the loud clatter of the chair hitting the floor.
Sterling sputters as he struggles to right himself.
“Did you just—”
“Kick his fucking chair over?” Japer provides, cutting off my dad’s question. “Yes. Because you might be okay with him talking to your daughter that way, but I am not. Must have learned better manners in the trailer park.”
My dad at least has the good sense to look a little cowed.
But me? I do what I always do in inappropriate situations.
I burst out laughing as I watch Sterling on all fours, awkwardly pushing himself to standing. Dress shirt stained with red wine. Hair all fucked. And not in a good way.
“You’re dead, Gervais,” he tries to sound tough but everything about the man rings so damn hollow.
It makes me laugh harder.
We’ve made a spectacle and I’ve got the goddamn giggles.
“Sloane, pull it together. People are watching,” my dad snaps at me.
Tears well in my eyes and I rub them, but the laughter won’t stop coming.
Jasper leans down and whispers in my ear. “If it makes you laugh, I’ll kick his ass while everyone watches.”