by Ava Ashley
I smile and kiss him right back. “But, tacos first?”
He laughs. “Okay. Tacos first.”
Chapter 16
Lennox
It’s dangerous to be right.
The partial quote isn’t mine. It’s Voltaire’s. At least, that’s what it says in gilt letters over black on the elevator wall. I can’t help but agree. I was right, standing up to Pop, all those years ago, even though it cost me a crap-ton of pain. I subconsciously pulled the tux sleeves lower on my wrists.
I was right stepping in and trying to protect Logan from the same shit I went through. But, sometimes, the hardest thing to protect people from was themselves. And Logan was, and is, his own worst enemy.
Logan may be lost, but maybe I could do a better job protecting Sloane...and the baby. If I can get her to stay out of her own way and let me. She was being so adamant about standing on her own two feet. I’ve been racking my brain to figure out a way to make her realize that trusting me to take some of the load off didn’t mean she was surrendering.
Although, god, was I ready to surrender to her.
The Citizen Hotel is beautiful – a creamy beige marble topped with richly colored murals with gold and floral accents. The Art Deco design is filled with imposing furniture in expensive upholstery, fitting for a hotel that once housed the money-shakers and lawmakers of the state’s capitol. But, none of it is as beautiful as the woman standing next to me. Tonight’s the night, I decide. I’m going all in.
It means admitting to a past I’d rather forget. But, if I’m going to ask Sloane to trust me to share her burdens, I have to be willing to allow her to help shoulder mine.
Teamwork makes the dream work.
That’s what Coach always says.
“I feel like a bowling ball with legs,” Sloane grumbles. She tugs at the seams of the sequined black maternity dress.
“You look gorgeous,” I assure her, kissing her on the back of the neck as we ride up the elevator to the roof.
“When was the last time you had your vision checked?” she quips. It’s not the snarky playful banter I’m used to, though. There’s a slight edge in her voice I can’t quite place. It starts to nibble at my resolve.
I tilt her chin up so I can see her blue eyes. They’re stormy. Not the clear, ocean blue I’ve gotten used to swimming in for hours. “You okay?
Her face softens almost immediately. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I guess, I guess I’m just uncomfortable. I’ve just got a lot...” her voice trails as she looks down at her belly. “A lot on my mind, I suppose.”
She looks at me almost imploringly. “Do we really have to go to this thing? I was really hoping we could, well, have some alone time tonight. Just you and me.”
A smile beams across my face. I dip down and place a long, lingering kiss on her full lower lip. “I know. There’s no place I’d rather be than alone with you.”
She doesn’t quite engage in the kiss. She gives me a gentle push. “Not the alone time I was thinking about, although, the ‘tacos’ were phenomenal.”
“Oh? You liked that, huh?”
“Yes. You can go south of my border whenever you want, but that’s not what I meant.”
Now, it’s my turn to push back a little. “Is something wrong?”
“No!” she asserts quickly. “It’s just a party isn’t exactly conducive to holding a private conversation, ya know? And, well, you’re really the only person I want to talk to right now.”
Relief calms the worry bubbling in my gut. I take her tiny hands in mine and kiss them gently. “I promise. We’ll pop in, show our faces then I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Anywhere. And we’ll talk till the sun comes up if that’s what you want.”
The elevator dings for the top floor. Sloane turns her head toward the opening doors. Lyrics from The Rolling Stones filters in from the party.
Mick reminds the crowd no matter how much you might want something, you weren’t always going to get what you wanted. Sloane sighs and we make our way out into the crowd.
“Lennox! Glad you could make it, son!” Congressman Daley swoops down on us, gin and tonic in hand. He pumps my hand like a V-8 piston. “And, Sloane. Always...a pleasure.”
There’s a slight catch in the representative’s voice. I worry that Sloane caught it. She’s already uncomfortable enough being here.
“You know me, Congressman. Team player. All the way.”
“And, believe you me, it’s appreciated. Glad to see one of Tristan Hardy’s boys took after him.”
My turn to feel uncomfortable. I turn an unappealing shade of green.
“Well, off to kiss some more babies and hug some ass. Wait. I think that should be the other way around, now, shouldn’t it?” the congressman suggests and moves off through the crushing crowd, aide in tow.
Sloane nudges me and whispers. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, but I take a swipe at the back of an empty chair anyway.
“Damn it!” I growl under my breath. “You know, Logan may have been the one she gave up, but that lucky sonovabitch. He sure as hell got the better end of the deal. No matter what he thinks.”
That fierce, burning fire starts to churn in my core. “And I don’t give a shit what Daley says. I am nothing like that bastard!”
I feel a cool, steadying hand and at my back.
“Wanna talk about it?” Sloane murmurs.
“What the hell’s the point? You said so yourself. There’s no place private to talk in one of these places.”
“I was wrong,” she states, matter-of-factly.
Her statement puts a speed bump in front of my rage train. “What do mean?”
“Dance?” she asks and holds out a hand.
“Although, in my current state, it may be closer to a waddle.” Her soft smile disarms me. I let her lead me out to the wooden dance floor as the band breaks the pulse down with a slow ballad.
I wrap one arm around her waist, and interlace the fingers of my right hand in hers. It’s an effortless maneuver. We just...fit.
She lets me appreciate a few moments and rhythmic swaying. No words. Just an easy synchronization that lulls me into a relaxed calm. Then she speaks.
“Why was Logan lucky?” she asks. “Why does he hate you so much?”
All of Me plays in the background. A wry smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Appropriate.
I take a deep breath.
“Your mom read you any bedtime stories?” I ask as we glide across the dance floor. “You know. About golden princes and fair maidens?”
Sloane nods her head. “All the time. I think it’s, like, a requirement.”
“Well, did you ever wonder what happened after they rode off into the sunset? What happened the next morning? After ‘The End’?”
“They lived happily ever after,” Sloane suggested, smiling.
I stopped. “You see, Sloane. That’s just it. That’s the lie. ‘Happy ever after’? It’s just a myth. It doesn’t exist. Nothing’s real.”
“Lennox,” her voice cracks hoarse. Clouds begin to settle across Sloane’s face. Her smile starts to fade. “I’m sorry. Please, I....”
Shit. This isn’t coming out the way I want it to.
“No. Wait, Sloane. Don’t you get it? That’s the way I used to think. That’s how I saw, well, everything...before I met you.”
A muddled confusion is still streaked across her face. She almost looked pained.
I grab her gently by both arms. “I want the fairytale, Sloane. I want...you.”
I lean in to kiss her, when she’s suddenly snatched out of my arms.
“And you’re not the only one. Come on, now, Lennox. You can’t expect to hog the prettiest lady in the whole room all night. May I cut in?”
Logan has Sloane in his arms and across the dance floor before I can call a flag on the play.
Chapter 17
Sloane
“Logan!” I cry with the little breath I have left in me after
being whisked away from Lennox in an instant. The band has picked up the pace, playing a hard-rock selection with a driving beat. I twist my head, trying to locate Lennox, but he’s swallowed up by the surging crowd. I pull and wrench away from Logan.
“Let me go, Logan. What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I spit angrily, stomping off the dance floor into a secluded corner. Logan coolly follows me. “And why in the hell are you even here? Are you trying to ruin things for Daley, or something?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, that’s what debates are for. No. I’m here because you and I have a little unfinished business.”
He takes an exaggerated look at my sparkling belly. I follow his gaze and my hackles raise.
“No way!” I almost shout, but put myself in check at the last minute. This was not the venue to start a scene. Doesn’t mean there’s any less bite on what I bark next.
“You had your chance. You made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with this baby. That I was to take care of this child on my own. And, you know what? I am perfectly okay with that.”
“Question is, will the courts be okay with it?” Logan says under his breath.
That familiar icy claw begins to close around my heart again. I remember Emma’s frantic phone call.
“What are you talking about, Logan?”
Logan gives a careless look at his nails.
“Oh, I don’t know. Single mom. Unwed. Unemployed.” He levels a dead stare into my eyes. “Unstable.”
“I’m sure I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Logan,” I snap back. Problem is, I’m afraid I know exactly where he’s going with this. I just haven’t figured out his angle yet.
“Oh, I don’t know, Sloane. Firing a loaded weapon into an occupied building is a 707 offense in the state of California.”
My eyes narrow. The angry raw wounds of an exposed past sting. “Yeah, well it’s kind of hard to end your own life with an unloaded one.”
I don’t see the point in mentioning to him that it was an accidental misfire when I was loading the damned thing.
Yes. I had attempted suicide. Tried to suck on the barrel of mom’s Glock I’d snuck out of the house and into my room when I was too far buried in my own grief to see the light. Part of me was just so angry at her for leaving me. For dying. Wasn’t proud of it, but I had figured it was my own life to do with what I wanted, right? But, because I had done it in my dorm, an occupied building, it was classified as a major juvenile offense. Mandatory time in a psychiatric facility, ordered by the court.
“Guess that’s why you took time off your freshman year of college then, huh? To sort things out?”
“That record was sealed,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
Logan shook his head and tapped his lower lip with a long index finger. “You see, that’s a common misconception. Everybody always assumes that juvenile records are automatically sealed. Truth of the matter is, you have to file a petition. Otherwise, they remain a matter of public record.”
That claw became a vise. I took a hard swallow.
“Fact is that I’m a few points behind in the polls. My P.R. guy thinks that if I represent a more family-centered image to the voters, I can gain an edge on Daley,” Logan continued. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, I’ve announced my engagement to Chelsea Groton, daughter of the Napa Valley wine baron, Jack Groton? All we need now is a sweet, little bundle of joy to tie it all up in a pretty little bow. And while Chelsea and her mother are all for being able to doll up an offspring with the same clothes Princess Kate uses on Little George and Caroline, neither wants to see Chelsea ruin that perfect figure.”
The slap comes sharp and stinging. I’m not sure which smarts worse...my hand or Logan’s face. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
Logan rubs his cheek. “You have no idea. Look, I don’t want to drag your sad, troubled past out in the open. Just agree to relinquish custody once the baby is born, and I’ll forget everything I know. Including how your mother was stripped of her Purple Heart for ‘conduct unbecoming’.”
“That was a bullshit charge, and you know it,” I growl.
“Since when did people start believing the truth?” He almost laughs.
I want to vomit. I might have been able to stand Logan dragging my name through the mud. I’d have even been willing to go head-to-head with him if he had taken me to court to fight for custody, but my mother had been through enough. Three tours in hell was enough for anybody. I wasn’t going to let him smear her memory any more than it had already.
“You know, Logan, I always thought you and Lennox were identical twins. Truth is, you couldn’t be more different. It doesn’t matter how good-looking you are on the outside. Inside, you’re ugly as hell.”
“Leave her alone, Logan.” Lennox’s deep baritone cut through the pounding rock. He’d managed to make his way across the room. “Your beef’s with me. Not Sloane.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Logan bristles. “Like you left things alone between me and Pop? I was there, Lennox. How does it feel to have someone fuck with your life?”
“Logan, if you’ll just listen for once...”
“I was listening, Lennox. I heard you in the hospital that night. When they were wheeling me back to the room. I was still pretty out of it, but I heard what you were saying crystal clear. You were telling – no – screaming at Pop that you didn’t want him to have anything to do with me. That you wanted him to leave me alone.”
“Logan, I was trying...” Lennox began. Logan didn’t let him finish.
“Yeah. I know. You were trying to keep Pop all to yourself. Guess that’s how it is when you’re ‘The Chosen One’. You’re not real big on sharing.” Logan sneers. “Well, we’ve definitely shared one thing.”
Lennox takes an impassioned step forward. I step between the two men before anything else can happen. “Time to go, Lennox.”
A mean chuckle sounded from Logan. “Letting your women do the fighting for you now, huh, brother? Not like Omnia.”
I tilt a questioning head to Lennox. “Omnia?”
“A mistake,” Lennox growls, still pushing toward his brother against my hands. I push back. “Just like you’re making, Logan.”
“It’s no mistake, Lennox. I know exactly what I’m doing,” Logan replies.
“Come on. We made our appearance. Now, let’s go home,” I urge.
“Home?” Logan laughs. “You know, you should really be more careful who you choose to play house with, Sloane. Lennox has a real track record of hurting people...in more ways than one.”
With that, Logan strolled away from our private little meeting and then from the party itself. My blood is pounding in my veins, my heart racing like jackrabbit.
“He’s an idiot, Sloane. You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Get me out of here.” It’s not so much a request as it’s an order. Lennox looks hurt, but doesn’t stop to question. We head for the elevator with its wise quotes and my eyes search for some piece of sage advice to help me get through this mess I’ve gotten myself into, but there’s nothing there.
I think back on Logan’s words and a shudder runs through me. I know Lennox would never do anything to hurt me.
I just wish I could say the same about myself.
*****
“What did he say to you?” Lennox asks, pacing the floor back at the loft.
“He’s forcing me to give up custody,” I admit, knowing full well it’s going to make Lennox explode.
3...2...1...
“WHAT!!!” The bomb goes off. “Is he fucking insane? You know what? Don’t bother to answer that. ‘Cause I already know the goddamned answer! He’s out of his mind. And besides, I already told him it wasn’t even on the table.”
“Wait,” Sloane whispers. “You...did? When?”
“He stopped by the stadium one day. Gave me some bullshit about ‘taking the baby off your hands’. Like it was a used car or something. Now he’s threatening you? Wha
t makes him think he can get away with it?”
I tuck my bare feet up under my body, which, these days, it’s getting harder to do. Another reminder of what’s at stake here. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one who’s made mistakes. Some people’s might just be a little bigger than others.”
How do you compare a guppy to a friggin’ blue whale, Sloane?
I opt for deflection. Anything to avoid talking about what I really need to talk to him about. “Omnia. What was Logan talking about?”
Lennox stops pacing and looks out the window at the street below. “It was a stupid mistake. I got drunk.”
“Been there, done that,” I laugh half-heartedly, pointing to my engorged uterus.
Lennox rushes to my side. “Are you kidding? This? This is not a mistake. This is something beautiful, Sloane. You have a chance to be a...to be a mom! Don’t let anybody take that from you. Or your baby.”
A sad quiet falls over Lennox as he just lets his hand rise and fall with my belly.
“Lennox? What, exactly, happened to your mom?” I dare.
He lets his hand drop of my stomach, turns, and rests his back up against the sofa. He pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs heavily. He starts to trace the odd pattern of circular scars on his arm.
“Remember what I said about ‘happy-ever-afters’?” he starts, voice cracking.
I nod wordlessly.
“Mom’s fairy godmother got it ass-backwards. Her Prince Charming? Turned into a goddamned toad.” He laughs, but it’s completely mirthless.
“Everything started out alright, I guess. Pop was at the top of his game. But, when the bottom fell out of the oil market, he started making some really risky investments, short-selling the stock, and everything went to hell. He started drinking more. Started cheating on mom. And pretty soon after that...the abuse started. You know, she really thought it was her fault. She shouldered the blame for what the asshole did to her. She started to really believe some of the nasty crap he kept piling on her. Guilt and shame kept her from letting on to anyone what was going on. She just figured out new and creative ways to hide the bruises, the welts.”