Page 86 of For The Weekend
Still gnawing on her lip, she stares at me with bloodshot eyes and nods.
“You’re ruining your best feature,” I say, tapping at her mouth, trying and failing at levity when she cracks, chin wavering as she bows her head and begins to cry again.
“Oh babe, I’m so sorry.”
“I just never thought…” She sniffs a few times, and I decide it’s time for me to find the tissues. I locate a box then fill up a small cup of water from the faucet in the attached bathroom. She accepts both and dutifully drinks the water.
After a few minutes, she tells me, “He doesn’t want to try counseling. Doesn’t want to work on things. He just wants her. I was stunned when he told me.”
I nod like a bobblehead because…yeah. This is fucking stunning. I always thought the guy was kind of a douche, but I never thought he’d cheat on Sloane.
“And he told you last night?” When she nods, I ask, “Why didn’t you call me then?”
“Because I knew once I started crying, I wouldn’t stop, and I still had to wake up this morning and get the kids on the bus. I didn’t want them…”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You’re the best mom I know. Literally. You should be on the cover of magazines and on podcasts and stuff. I don’t know how you do it. You do everything for your family. You’re an amazing mom, and wife, and you don’t deserve this. I hope you know that. I hope in the dark recesses of your mind, you’re not letting all the BS make you think this is your fault, because it’s not.”
She blows her nose, and I know she hears me, but I don’t think shehearsme.
“The funny thing is, when he told me, my first reaction wasn’t even about me or my marriage, it was about the kids. What about the kids? What are we going to do about the kids?”
And that’s exactly what I was talking about.
Sloane lives for her children.
“The kids will be fine,” I say, hoping I’m right. “They’re resilient. And with you as their mom?” I wave my hand in the air, swatting away the bad vibes. “There is no way those kids don’t turn out to be perfect, loving individuals.”
She nods a few times, tears sliding down her cheeks. Then she rasps, “They’re all I care about.”
“I know, I know, I know.” I pull her in for another hug as a new wave of sobs overtakes her, and we sit on the floor for a long time. Until she seems to have dried out.
Then I hold her hand to help her stand and stay with her in the bathroom as she showers because this isn’t the first, and I doubt the last, time one of us will need help like this. I hand her a towel and get her dressed in comfy clothes then French braid her hair before we head to the kitchen.
I make us hot chocolate with a tiny splash of vodka because Sloane—of course—has to pick up the kids from the bus stop today. I admire my best friend for a lot of reasons, her big heart, her bravery, her artistry, but also for how she so willingly puts everyone ahead of herself.
It’s also the one thing that can and will be her downfall.
It’s while I’m making us lunch that I think of the letter I found from Amy. The writings of another mother, wanting to be a part of their child’s life. I don’t know her apart from what Roman has told me about her, but being here with Sloane, knowing how much she loves her children, makes me thinkAmy must feel something similar. She wouldn’t write a letter to Roman without wanting to atone.
And I feel the call to help.
I can’t stand seeing my best friend hurt, and if Amy is suffering with even a quarter of the same pain, I want to help her too.
I could possibly do something. Maybe act as an intermediary between Amy and Roman. It couldn’t hurt to reach out.
But first, I need to get Sloane on her feet and make sure her two munchkins come through this whole nightmare unscathed.
And possibly invent a murder plan for Trevor.
Poison in a cinnamon roll sounds easy enough.
Chapter 25
Roman
“No way! That doesn’t count.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, muscles twitching, struggling to hold myself up anymore. Wondering how the hell I got here.
