by Cynthia Dane
“I take it that Ms. Vaughn is no longer responding to your calls, then.”
Sloan didn’t dare look in his direction. “For your information, I haven’t been calling her. She’s made her decision. She’s free to do as she pleases.”
“Her running back to Portland had nothing to do with you lying about your marital status?” He’d keep pressing those buttons until he received the reaction he desired. The more dramatic on his wife’s part, the better. That’s how he had been ever since Sloan declared their marriage over. Years ago. This has been going on for years. “I always knew that would come back to bite you in the ass. The moment you got the hots for some poor woman who knew nothing about you…” He clicked his tongue. “At least I’ve always been open with my lovers. They could expect nothing from me as long as I was married to you.”
Sloan put her compact away. “Must have been nice to be guaranteed no-strings-attached sex thanks to being married to me. Not only were you off the marriage market, but I’m such a frightening woman! Why, if I decided to go after one of your little ladies, they wouldn’t have stood a chance, huh?” She snorted. “Please. You loved it. Still being married to me, that is.”
His eyes lingered on her. Although Sloan did not dare look over, she could feel them, like she could feel his aura growing in strength. Don’t you dare succumb to it, Margaret. She wasn’t in danger of ever falling into Aaron’s bed again, but he still had his tricks to get into her head. Usually, she didn’t give him the chance to fuck with her brain, but there were times when she was most vulnerable – like now, fresh from a breakup – when he knew how to push those fucking buttons.
“I always hoped,” he said with a soft voice, “that we might be able to reconcile one day. That’s why I never pushed for a divorce. Why go through that when it was easy enough to stay married?”
“You hoped we would reconcile?” Sloan nearly sputtered. “You’ve got to be kidding. Not after what happened.” She couldn’t believe she was bringing this up, but here they were, trapped in the back of a car with only their moods to keep them company. “I’m gay, Aaron. It was never going to happen.”
“It happened once, didn’t it?”
“That was… that’s…” Sloan was in therapy for multiple reasons, and one of them was deciphering what about this man made him that cursed exception to her sexuality. Every time I think about it, I want to hurl. The only time Sloan courted the term bisexual was when she dated and married Aaron, but it never felt right. She only did it for political reasons. The thought of being attracted to any other man for the rest of her life was preposterous. So why? Why him? What did he do to make her turn on her nature and become someone she was never meant to be? “That was a fluke.”
“A seven-year fluke, huh?”
“You ever hear of a phase, Aaron? Some phases last for years.” He wasn’t the only person she had sex with when they were still together. Oh, no. He had taken full advantage of her attraction to women, hadn’t he? Because it wasn’t bad enough that a lesbian fell into bed with a man and decided to marry him. Now they were “that” couple, inviting young women into their chambers for fun and God knew what else. Those were the nights Sloan expunged from her brain first. Hopefully, none of those women hated them.
“Still, is it so wrong for a man to hope that his wife comes back to him?”
“Stop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
This could’ve gone one of two ways. Either Aaron would drop it and let her stew in her uncomfortable silence, or he would egg her on. That’s how it had always been. She often couldn’t believe it took her seven damned years to realize what an insufferable asshole he was.
“We could’ve had so much, Maggie,” he said with that agonizingly soft voice. To think, Sloan once found comfort in that tone. This was the man who taught her how to deal with the more emotional side to kink, after all. He’s why I am not good enough for someone like Leah. Leah needed genuine tenderness and an innate sense of what to do when a submissive partner pushed too far. Sloan could never be that woman. She was too fucked up by this bastard to know the difference between healthy support and good old-fashioned manipulation. “Could you imagine us with a family? We could’ve destroyed every stereotype that said couples like us couldn’t have good kids. Maybe the universe was trying to tell us that it was time to take our marriage to the next phase.”
Something tasted like spoiled milk in the back of Sloan’s throat. “You knew my stance on having kids.” This was a woman who now had an IUD, though she had zero plans to touch another dick in her life. “I never had anything more to say on the matter.”
“Still, I would’ve thought that maybe…”
“Maybe what?” The man had to choose his words carefully. He already had a resentful wife on his hands. The last thing he needed was to make her homicidal!
“That maybe you would’ve changed your mind if you were actually pregnant.”
There were times in a woman’s life when the air changed, the ground shifted, and colors that once held certain names now switched with others. Orange was green. Blue was purple. Apple pie was nothing more than a vat of vinegar spiced with cinnamon. Everything she once held true about the world came crumbling down as the truth was unveiled.
Did she have proof for this truth? Of course not. Nothing beyond “woman’s intuition,” anyway. Sometimes that was more than enough.
“You knocked me up on purpose.” Sloan blinked away the changes that had transformed before her eyes. Orange went back to orange. She no longer felt like she was going to throw up. “What did you do, Aaron? Or will you deny it?”
He scoffed, but didn’t deny it.
“My pills. What did you do to my pills?” That was the only birth control Sloan had been on.
“You don’t understand, Mags…”
“Oh my God.” Sloan propped her elbow up on the door and slammed her hand against her face. “You fucked with my pills. Then you knocked me up, thinking I would have this magical change of heart.”
He said nothing.
“You bastard,” Sloan hissed. “You want to know why I changed so suddenly? You know why I want nothing to do with you anymore? It’s because of this kind of shit! Who the fuck were you, to dictate what happened to my body without any input from me? You know? The woman who owns this fucking body?”
Aaron’s chuckle marched right down her spine. “Your husband. What more is there?”
“Well!” Thank God they were almost to their destination, because if Sloan had to spend five more minutes in this car, she would end up in jail for manslaughter. “Backfired on you, didn’t it? Instead of getting what you wanted, you ruined our marriage, because you’re a controlling sack of shit!”
The car pulled up to the curb. Sloan grabbed her purse, but Aaron said, “Actually, I think it’s best if we get off at the separate drop-offs.” His door was already opened. “We’re not together anymore. It would look strange, yes? Thank you, Lyle.” He got out with the help of their driver. “See you inside, Maggie.”
The driver got back in his seat. The car lurched forward, and all Sloan could think was that the dirty bastard had basically given her everything she needed to take him to the proverbial cleaners in their divorce.
She fished out her phone to make sure it had recorded that whole conversation. Sloan never planned to say a damn thing the whole car ride, but if there was one thing Maxine Woodward had drilled into her head, it was to keep that phone recording every time she and Aaron were alone together. Who knew what the man would say to get to her? What he would reveal?
One of the most horrifying things Sloan could imagine, but it didn’t surprise her anymore.
“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver announced, before getting out of the car and coming to her door. She brusquely thanked him as she emerged from the backseat and immediately searched for her no-good shitstain of a husband.
Why wasn’t she surprised to see him already working the PR train to his advantage? How about that? I�
�m only surprised he got her in on it! Aaron didn’t want them getting off at different stops to keep the press cool about their divorce. He wanted to show off his new, public girlfriend.
Christie Yearwood had no problems ditching the nice young man her parents had chosen for her. Why would she go for some nobody like him when she could have Aaron Giles, a mega-rich fuckface who now cleaned out his closets – including the starter wife?
He thought we were having a threesome!
The press would ask her why she was laughing on her way into the venue. Why wouldn’t she laugh? Not only had Christie volunteered to get Sloan’s ex off her ass, but the man had walked right into his own funeral when he admitted he violated her body in more ways than one. How. Rich. Christie really thought she was moving up the food chain with a bloated crocodile like Aaron Giles… what would she think when he ended up divorced and practically penniless?
The only way this moment could be better was if Sloan had her own date on her arm. To be sure, half the reporters would ask about that mysterious woman in the pink dress.
Yes… Leah. She should’ve been here. In a way, this was her moment, too.
“Excuse me,” Sloan said with a smile, as she pulled out her phone and shuffled into the ladies’ room.
Good. The bathroom was empty.
She dialed her assistant and made sure her hair was acceptable in one of the mirrors. “Hello, Ayla? No, no, it’s nothing like that, but do you remember that plan I had? The one Ms. Mann suggested to me about getting into contact with Leah again? Yes. That one. Make it happen.” Sloan shut down her phone and took one last look at her reflection. Was she the spitting image of a woman about to make her huge comeback in the popular consciousness?
Yes, and the world would have no idea how to process the coming out of Margaret Sloan.
Ayla texted her back halfway through Mrs. Kingsley’s dinner. “It’s done. Let me know if you need anything else before I check out for the night.” The only thing Sloan needed was a good woman on her arm. Too bad the nearest one was two thousand miles away.
Chapter 29
“I don’t know who is requesting these things,” Enid said Friday morning, “but here you go, Leah. A sheet cake is needed by the end of the day. Grab the spare vanilla one in the fridge and get to work. Looks like you’ve got quite a bit of creative leeway, so it should be right up your alley. I’ve gotta get back up to the front.”
Leah grabbed the order sheet and glanced at Gina, who shrugged and went back to the birthday cookies she was charged with that day.
Something niggled at the back of Leah’s mind as she pulled out one of the spare sheet cakes they kept for last-minute orders. Yet this was different. Not only did they not care about the shape or the flavor of the cake, but there were no notes on the frosting. The only thing the customer wanted was a certain phrase written on top of the cake.
It looked like a poem. “In the Hollow in Which You Live, Deliver Me to Vengeance.”
“What the fuck,” Gina said, when she took a break from her own work to poke around Leah’s. Half of the message was written onto the cake already, but Gina had to grab the order form to understand why everyone scratched their heads. “Is this like a clue or something?”
“A clue for what?”
“Dunno. All I know is that whenever I see ‘Hollow,’ I always think of Goose Hollow. Hey, isn’t that where you live?”
Leah put down her piping bag. “It’s a coincidence.”
“I guess.” Gina turned back to her cookies. “Didn’t that girlfriend of yours order something to send you a message before?”
That’s what Leah didn’t want to think about. It didn’t help that Enid didn’t have a name to go with the order – as long as they paid, she didn’t give a shit. Sloan also had done something cutesy like that before. It wouldn’t be beyond her to do it again.
Please, don’t… Leah wasn’t sure if she was more bothered by it being Sloan, or not her. She hadn’t once tried to contact Leah since she left Chicago. No texts, no missed calls, and definitely no intermediaries, human or pastry.
It didn’t help that Leah knew what Vengeance meant. That was the name of a closed-up clothing boutique in her neighborhood. Some gothic, edgy style Leah knew nothing about – and apparently, most of Portland no longer cared about, since the store closed two years after opening. The storefront had remained shuttered since then. Prime real estate, really, since it was between a hip café and a used bookstore, but the owners wanted top asking price. Or so Leah heard through the neighborhood grapevine.
She finished the project and approached Enid with a proposal. “Let me make the delivery,” she said. “It’s my neighborhood, so I might know the people it’s for. Human connection, you know?”
Enid crossed her arms, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of Leah’s uncharacteristic attitude toward putting that human touch in everything they did. “I don’t have anything else for you to do, so go knock yourself out. Be back in time to help me close up.”
Leah gathered her jacket with that fake smile still plastered on her face. Gina peeked into the staff room with two thumbs up – as if this has anything to do with… whatever!
“I’ll be back.” Leah picked up the delicate cake and headed toward the door. “Don’t hold your breath for me, though.”
She took the same route to Vengeance that she did going home every day. Only now she had a cake tucked beneath her arm, and she needed to make sure it didn’t get messed up on the long walk. In case it was a real order, after all. With Leah’s luck, this was all in her head and some poor customer at the old, dilapidated store wanted to play a trick on someone.
Leah wasn’t dumb enough to think she’d find Sloan waiting for her. She didn’t know what – or who – to expect. Certainly not a woman dressed in business wear and glued to her phone. Not a woman who grinned like she had won the lottery when Leah turned the corner to her neighborhood and approached the boutique.
“You must be Leah Vaughn!” The petite woman clapped her hands as soon as she put her phone away. “Is that the cake I was told about? Come inside!”
That was all she said before unlocking the darkened door to Vengeance. Leah entered with trepidation, the sheet cake box balanced delicately between her hands.
There was no party inside. Nobody celebrated the opening or the closing of the store, and nobody jumped out to yell surprise! All Leah saw was the softly illuminated interior of a store in great need of remodeling. The businesswoman pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to Leah, who had put the cake down on a small table.
“Rachel Ernst, Real Estate Agent.” Leah looked up at the woman.
“You’re going to want to cut yourself a slice of that cake, Leah!” Rachel looked as if she were about to start singing Happy Birthday two months too late. “I can’t believe I’m the one who gets to tell you the good news!”
“What are you talking about?”
Rachel must not have received many opportunities to gush to random people she pulled off the street, because Leah had never seen a woman so incapable of keeping a secret inside her puffing chipmunk cheeks. “This place is for you!”
“Come again?”
The more Rachel talked, the more unbelievable she sounded. It didn’t help that Leah was in such shock that the thought of anything being for her right now was beyond her ability to fathom. “Someone must really love you, Ms. Vaughn, because one of my clients has not only purchased this space, but is paying to have it converted into a boutique bakery. For you.”
“For me?”
“That’s right. As soon as you sign a few papers, this will belong to you.” Rachel opened her arms to encompass the size of the small boutique. “I’m told you’re quite the accomplished baker waiting for her next big break. I understand. It’s a tough real estate economy right now. Rentals, renovations… but you don’t have to worry about any of that, because the deed to this place will soon be in your name. We only need you to take ownership, so we can have
you officially sign off on the renovations you want. Much easier that way.”
Leah continued to gaze at the real estate agent as if she had lost her damned mind. “You must be kidding. Is this a prank?” She opened the top of the cake box. Whatever pride she felt for not marring a single speck of frosting was soon doused when she looked outside the window.
The MAX passed nearby. This street, which was around the corner from one of the stops, supported a few park benches that were popular with passengers awaiting the next train. Instead of the usual faces Leah saw around, however, she saw a different face that boasted its own familiarity.
Leah turned around before Sloan looked back in her direction. “I simply can’t accept something like this,” she said to the agent. “It would be wrong.”
“In the end, you can take it up with the person who wants to gift this property to you. I believe she said something about wanting to go over a business plan with you, anyway.”
Leah shook her head. “Preposterous…” Her? Running her own bakery, so soon? She was barely thirty! What did she know about running her own business? She was better off taking orders from someone like Enid – only maybe, one day, she’d have a much nicer boss.
“I’ve got to get going, but I’ll be in contact with you as soon as the papers are ready.” Rachel shook Leah’s hand on her way by. “This really is a fantastic opportunity, isn’t it? I bet the local business paper will be spotlighting you shortly!”
The agent didn’t lock the door on her way out, nor did she suggest that it was time for Leah to leave. The only reason she could get away with that was if the true owner of the building was nearby.
She was, wasn’t she?
“What do you think?” Sloan leaned against the open doorway, hands traveling up the sturdy sides and feet digging into the old and worn welcome mat that once brought customers into a clothing boutique. “My lead property and business opportunities scout told me this was the best location in the Goose Hollow neighborhood for a bakery. Will cost a pretty penny to convert the back into a decent kitchen, but I’m told we can make it work.”