Page 31 of My Soul for Sale

“Thank you for that. But until last night, I didn’t know either of you wanted to see me or even cared that I still existed.”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin before answering. “I can’t believe you didn’t know about the restraining order. I hate that you felt we didn’t care or weren't looking.”

“Just another way Ali has fucked me. I’m used to it by now.” She offers a slight smile.

For the rest of the dinner, easy conversation flows between us, the tension from earlier disappearing with each passing moment.

Sloane offers to do the dishes, but her insistence is met with protests from Dad and me. But she doesn't take no for an answer and gets up, grabbing our plates and silverware.

While Sloane washes them, Dad and I pack up the leftovers and put them in the fridge for later.

“Dinner was nice. Thank you. I’m going to head back to the office,” Dad announces.

“No." Sloane pouts, her expression stopping him in his tracks. "Play a game with us.”

Dad raises an eyebrow. "What are you going to play?"

Sloane's eyes sparkle. "Atlas insists he can beat me in Texas Hold'em, but he's sadly mistaken. It'll be more fun with the three of us. Come on."

After a moment's consideration, Dad gives in.

We make our way to the living room, taking our seats around the coffee table, the cards and chips already laid out before us.

Dad deals the first hand and Sloane's smirk grows as she checks out her cards, mirth dancing in her eyes.

We exchange cautious glances, our competitiveness sparked as we prepare to play against her.

Since Dad is the dealer, he initiates the first round of betting.

As the game progresses, the community cards are revealed one by one: the flop, the turn, and finally, the river.

Bluffs and raises are called as we try to outsmart each other.

Sloane, in particular, proves to be a master of bluffing, her moves calculated and deliberate.

The game eventually ends and Sloane emerges victorious, earning her the title of champion, while Dad and I accept defeat.

Gathering the cards and poker chips, I start to put everything away. My dad collects the remnants of our game—empty bottles, discarded snack wrappers—and throws them away.

Sloane lets out a yawn. "I'm going to head up to bed. I can sleep in my old room if it's still empty?" she asks, uncertainty lacing her words.

"You're sleeping with me," I growl, the words leaving my lips before I can even process them fully.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she tilts her head to the side. "I don't want to be a bother," she protests, her gaze meeting mine.

I shake my head. "You're not a bother, Sloane. I want you in my bed," I reassure her.

“Okay,” she whispers.

A sense of relief washes over me. As she starts to make her way up the stairs, I follow her, my eyes fixed on her plump ass as she takes each step.

When we reach the top of the staircase, anticipation builds within me. Tonight feels different somehow.

Following Sloane into my room, I know that one weekend won’t ever be enough. She’s back and I’m going to convince her that she should stay.

Chapter Seventeen

Ripley

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