Chapter 133
SLOANE
My father is just as bullheaded as most of the men I know.
He decides not to heed my warning and stands there like some old–school martyr, arms crossed, face calm in that way he thinks makes him unreadable. It doesn’t. He’s waiting for the storm that’s about to come through the front door in the form of his wife, Daphne.
The door opens, and Daphne walks in with Beau.
The first person she lays eyes on is Grandma June, curled into the couch with a half–finished glass of wine in one hand and the TV remote in the other,
“You’re back,” Grandma says with a slow turn of the head as Daphne kicks the door shut behind her and sets her bag down.
“Yeah. Couldn’t stand being around my family any longer. Decided to come home.” She looks down at her son and nods. “Beau, go say hi to Grandma.”
The boy hesitates. He’s got one finger lodged in his nostril, and from the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, he’d rather be anywhere else. But Daphne nudges him, and he reluctantly starts walking toward Grandma June.
Even as I watch this unfold, I can feel the tension rising. Daphne hasn’t looked our way yet. She knows we’re here. I know she does. Her neck is stiff, like she’s avoiding turning toward us. My father hasn’t moved either. He’s standing a few feet from me, hands now shoved into his pockets, bracing himself.
Then Daphne finally does it. She turns. Her eyes find mine first.
“Sloane,” she says. “You’re here. Is it two months already?”
I smile, realizing she’s talking about the two–month rhythm I’ve stuck to for years now, the one where I alternate between my parents to pay a visit. One
month with Dad. The next with Mom. A habit that started as convenience and slowly turned into a rule.
“Something came up,” I reply.
Her gaze moves to my father, and I see it–the moment her expression hardens again. She isn’t ready to deal with him. Not yet.
“Great,” she says instead. “I hope it’s not anything serious. Because I saw a strange car parked out there with some mean–looking men. Should I be
worried?”
“Those are just Sloane’s friends,” my dad says, his voice soft in a way I haven’t heard in a long time. Daphne’s eyes find his again, and they stare at each
other across the room.
I take that as my cue to exit.
I start inching toward the stairs, giving Grandma a look that says, ‘Let’s give them some privacy. She ignores me. Typical. Beau is already on her lap, one sneaker dangling halfway off his foot, and she’s patting his back while making him watch the fashion show with her.
“Grandma,” I say out loud.
She rolls her eyes but sets the kid down. “Alright, alright.” She pats Beau on the back. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s go change out of those large shoes your mother has you suffocating in.”
I wait for them at the foot of the stairs. Grandma’s taking her sweet time with Beau, even though she knows exactly what I’m trying to do. Beau shuffles along beside her, dragging his feet with his tiny hand clutching her robe, and he keeps glancing down at his shoes.
When they reach me, I give Grandma a pointed look. Then I start up the stairs.
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Behind me, I hear my father say, “I’m going to get your bag and Daphne’s voice answering, “Not yet. Let’s talk:–
“Atleast they’re talking. It’s the only silver lining I can hold onto. I hear Grandma coaxing Beau behind me like he’s navigating Everest lastead of st
stairs.
“One foot up the stairs, buddy. Great. That’s it. Now the other one.”
My mind’s spiraling.
How the hell am I supposed to get my mother out of this house without Daphne noticing?
The window?
Oh God. Am I seriously considering asking my post–miscarriage, emotionally damaged mother to climb out of a window?
Yes. Yes, I am.
Even if I did manage to get her out without a scene, where would I take her? And where’s Serena? Why the hell is her phone still switched off?
It’s not like her. She usually replies my texts within minutes–even if it’s just a stupid emoji or a sarcastic GIF. But today? Radio silence. On the one day I actually need a fast response.
I reach the top of the stairs, still caught in that spiral, when the door to the guest room swings open and out steps my
mother.
She’s dressed up. A short, blue dress that’s a little too tight. She’s holding a handbag and obviously planning to head down the stairs.
“Whoa,” I whisper, stepping into her path. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t stay here, as you’ve clearly mentioned. So I’m going home.”
“Not right now.”
“What’s your problem? First you wanted me out of your father’s house. Now I can’t leave?”
“Keep your voice down, Mom. Daphne’s here.”
The words barely leave my mouth before I realize it’s too late.
Daphne’s footsteps hit the stairs fast. I bet she heard Mom’s voice due to all that echoing in the hallway. Her hand is curled around the banister as she
climbs.
Behind Daphne, my father hurries along.
Mom shifts on her feet, clutching her handbag tighter under her arm. Her chin lifts just enough to meet Daphne’s eyes as she comes into view.
“Is that who I think it is?” Daphne asks Dad.
“Daph-” my father tries, but she cuts him off.
“Why is your ex–wife in our house, Daniel? And why’s she putting on my dress?”
Silence. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
Mom’s eyes dart back and forth between Dad and Daphne, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She’s calculating, weighing her options.
For a second–just a second–I think she might defend herself. Maybe explain that she didn’t steal anything, that Dad brought her here, and she had no choice about the clothes. Maybe she’ll tell Daphne what happened at the hospital, make her understand that this isn’t some scheme to mess with their marriage.
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Instead, she says, “I’ll be leaving.”
And then she does something that’s so perfectly Mom it almost makes me laugh despite everything. She walks right past them.
Dad steps aside without even realizing he’s doing it. Daphne just stands there, mouth half–open. Mom doesn’t look back
I listen to her footsteps fade, then the soft sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut.
The sound of the door closing pulls Daphne out of her trance.
“What the hell was that, Daniel?” she says.
“Margot called. She said she was in the hospital and had no one else to call. I had to pick her up and ended up bringing her here:
“Hospital? Bring her here?” Daphne repeats. Her voice rises with every word. “You brought a woman into my house. She’s wearing my clothes and walking out like she owns the place. And I’m supposed to believe some cock–and–bull story about her having no one else? Do you realize the irony of this situation? You’ve been mad at me because of a picture. A damn picture of my old schoolmate kissing me on the cheek at a stupid lunch meeting. Meanwhile, you sneak your ex in when I’m not at home and let her try on my wardrobe?”
“Oh dear,” Grandma mutters, already lifting Beau up in her arms. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Time for bed.”
I’m stuck there like an idiot, not sure if I should stick around for the fallout or make myself scarce. That’s when my phone goes–off, buzzing against my hand like it’s having a seizure. I see Serena’s name flashing on the screen.
Thank God. Finally.
I don’t wait to see how this plays out between Dad and Daphne. I’m already moving, practically jogging down the hallway toward the guest room Mom slept in. I slip inside and pull the door shut just as I swipe to answer.
“Where have you been, Rena?” I say. “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. Did you get my voicemail about Mom?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then a man’s voice.
“Hello, Sloane. It’s nice to hear your voice. Unfortunately, your sister can’t come to the phone right now. She’s in my custody as a hostage.”
AD
