Page 41 of Reckless Single Daddy

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We get to the salon, and just as I expected, it turns out to be the worst thing ever. I sit off to the side while Mia is crowded around her best friends. Even Mom is fawning over her with the bridesmaids. I stare at a random spot on the floor, hoping it will swallow me whole, but I also know that Mia will remind me of what a horrible maid of honor I’ve been.

I wish I could blame my flakiness and general lack of participation fully on the stalker, but I can’t. The stalker hasn’t even been around the entire trip. He only started sending messages after I went to Denver with Cade. It was like the more time I spent with Cade, the more pissed off he got because I was starting to develop feelings for someone. It was easier before when he only had me in his sights. His desire may not be to hurt me, but he wants to control me, and he wants me to be alone. Maybe it’s his way of having me to himself without explicitly doing anything about it.

Whatever the reasoning, he’s probably in custody now. I haven’t been notified otherwise, which probably should make me nervous. Instead, all I can focus on is how exhausted I am.

“Sloane, can you come here for a moment?”

I look up. Mia is waving me over, giving me a dirty look. If I had to guess, I’m embarrassing her by not participating in the chatter. I try not to let it get to me, as I assumed after ourtexts the other day that she understood I can’t control what has happened the last few days. But today, it feels like she’s even more determined to make me see how much of a screw-up I’ve been. Is it because we’re around her friends? Is she embarrassed by my lack of commitment? It feels strange to think that, since my lack of involvement shouldn’t affect her that much, but she clearly wants to rub it in my face.

Despite everything we talked about, she’s pissed at me.

I stand up and walk over to the group, the girls greeting me with friendly smiles. None of them are fake in any way—trust me, I’d know. The art world is full of fake faces and seemingly friendly liars, but not these girls. I’ve grown up around them. They’ve always been Mia’s inner circle, so I’m basically their adopted kid sister by default.

“Sloane, Mia was just telling us you’re working on a new collection,” Cammie says, smiling at me.

I nod distantly, not because I’m disinterested in talking about my work. I love my work. I love the art I do, but no one ever asks me anything else.How are you doing, Sloane? Are you getting enough to eat? Have you read any new books lately?All of it is the same: make small talk about my art because that’s the defining thing I have going for myself.

Oh, and I have a stalker. But I’ll leave that part out.

“Can we get a teaser?” Jessica, another one of the girls, asks me. The other girls nod and smile at me excitedly.

I look over at Mia, who has her eyes averted from me. She appears to be silently fuming, trying her best not to combust on me for apparently not being as bubbly as her besties. In the spirit of trying to make things right to her, I straighten my posture and put on the best smile I can.

“Unfortunately, that might be worse than the groom seeing the bride before their big day,” I say.

They all laugh at my little joke. When I chance another glance at Mia, she seems to have relaxed a little, though she’s still not looking at me.

The rest of the test run goes as one would expect it to. I get my hair done in a bun with a braid across it—like everyone else, apparently, because we can’t be different—and a test makeup run gives me a neutral, warm look. I’m not well-versed in makeup by any means, but makeup is a lot like painting, only your face is the canvas. The colors and themes are all the same. ’Tis the autumn season, so naturally, Mia was looking for warmer undertones. Which is fair; I can pull it off.

As I wipe off the makeup, Mia steps up beside me, and we exchange an intense look between us through the mirror. For a minute, we stand there in a weird envelope of silence. She crosses her arms over her chest and then lets out a deep breath.

“I’ve been harsh today, and I’m sorry,” she says softly.

I’m pleasantly surprised to hear her apology, but I quickly shake my head. “It’s my fault,” I counter. “I haven’t been present.”

Mia shakes her head, turning the chair so it faces me. “I’ve been stressed, and I’ve been taking it out on you,” she says, looking away briefly before returning her focus back to me. “You told me that Mike ordered you out of Mom and Dad’s. Even they stayed over at Mike’s. Whatever it was must have been pretty serious for you all to have to vacate the house. That being said, I was upset, but I shouldn’t have allowed the stress to affect today.”

I feel genuinely bad that the stalker issue has escalated to this point, but I can’t control it—and I certainly never asked for it. I’ve only been keeping things as vague as possible with my family, aside from Mike, because I haven’t wanted to overshadow Mia’s wedding with my own problems. But I realize now that it’s inevitable at this point.

“Thank you,” I say, grateful for the apology even if I don’t think it’s warranted. The stalker is a problem, of course, and not something I can control, but I have no excuse for how much I’ve allowed Cade to occupy my time. I’ve allowed myself to be so consumed by him that everything and everyone else has taken a backseat. I can’t turn back the clock, but I can move forward and be different. I can work harder on being there for my family.

Part of the reason I came back to Rose Valley wasn’t just for the wedding. I wanted to do right by my siblings because I allowed my past problems with drinking and my mental health to keep myself from being present for them. I missed so much, like the birth of Landon, Mike’s son, and Mia and Killian’s engagement party. I missed so many birthdays and holidays because I came up with some lame excuse, like I had an event I had to attend or I was dating someone and agreed to spend the holidays with them.

None of it was true. I just didn’t want to be around my family. They all knew about my rehab stint, but I wasn’t ready to face them yet. I worried I’d be treated differently, like I was a fragile piece of glass. Deep down, I knew better. I knew they wouldn’t judge me for not being able to handle my emotions or being so stressed about my career prospects. But I couldn’t bring myself to come back to my childhood home, take a hard look at myself, and see the failure I had become.

It’s easier to run away from your problems than to take a long, hard look in the mirror and face the truth. I screwed up. I assumed that as soon as I made it to New York City, I’d be able to waltz into any gallery and make something of myself, but I was wrong. I, like many others who came to the city with the hope of becoming something, had to work my way to the top. Nothing was handed to me, and I wasn’t dealt a lucky hand or have any inside contacts. I busted my ass to get my paintings exhibited, and I busted it even harder to make sure I was noticed by the people who get help me advance. I did all the right things, got connected with all the right people, and made all the right choices. And in time, it paid off.

But now I’m paying the price for it. I have someone who is not only obsessed with my work, but with me. He is always watching me and keeping me on edge. But like Cade said, it will be over soon. I have to hold onto that, even if a part of me doesn’t believe it.

My phone pings, and I grab it as Mia walks back to her friends. I smile as I read the text.

How would you like to get away for the weekend? – Cade

I bite my bottom lip at the thought of leaving Rose Valley for the weekend and being alone with Cade. It could be exactly what I need. No stress—just a relaxing, blissful weekend with the man I’ve grown feelings for.

I look around me cautiously before I finally text back.

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