Before I can answer, she spots a hot chocolate stand and runs to it. I follow her and watch her buy two cups. The nagging thought of removing her mask returns.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s cold and wet. I should have worn more night-appropriate clothes. But—”
“Will you be wearing your mask the whole night?” I try to say it more light-hearted, but I still feel like I come on too strong. Worry takes over when she puts her cup down and stays silent. “It’s a jest. I respect you if you’re more comfortable with a mask. I am, after all, a stranger.”
Instead of answering me, she takes off her mask. A rush of emotions courses through me. The onslaught is so much that I don’t know which ones to react to. Do I let the shock, anger, betrayal, or the terrifying sadness seep through?
“Sloane,” I manage to croak.
This woman has sheltered my child, hid her identity from me since the beginning, and still managed to let herself go out with me tonight. After everything that we have been through, why does she choose now to reveal herself? Has she been planning this all along? Is this all about that stupid business deal? I slowly back away as each question passes my mind. Why me? Why now that she has also already captured my heart?
“Was this a game all along?”
Sloane starts crying. She reaches out for me, but I retreat even more. I don’t want her to ever touch me again.
“Owen. No. It’s not a game,” she whimpers. “It wasn’t planned. I—”
I don’t want to hear her anymore.
Turning back, I return to the club as quickly as I can. Russel and Mike are beaming when they see my figure, but as I near them, their faces sour. I’m glad that I’ve never lied about my feelings to these people because I don’t know how I could have masked the hatred and sadness that I’m feeling now.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. And then I add in my head that I will never see her again.
Chapter Twenty - Three - Sloane
Earlier, I was cautious driving to the club. But now, I couldn’t care less about crashing. I’m even surprised that I don’t because my eyes keep leaking tears, so I’m struggling to see clearly.
I can’t stop thinking about how Owen looked at me when I removed my mask. Disdain, disbelief, and disappointment were there. And those hurt more than when my father paraded me around like an object. I know that it’s because I love Owen more than I have ever loved any man in my life. Yet, I can’t have him now or ever. He will never let me back in his life or in Myah’s life. And those realities make it difficult to breathe or focus on the road.
Why do I have to lose the best thing that came into my life? Do I really deserve this much sadness? Haven’t I suffered enough with my parents?
Somebody honks their horn so loud that I hit my brakes. I look to my side at the car passing by. The driver rolls his window down and shouts at me, but I don’t hear him anymore. I can’t focus on anything. I suddenly feel this emptiness inside me.
After parking my car on the side of the road, I hear a car parking behind me. Someone presses their face on my windows, but I ignore it. If it’s a murderer, I start to think, I don’t care if they want to kill me.
The stranger starts knocking on my window. I want to ignore her, but I also want somebody to think about me for once — even if it is someone who may want to do me harm.
I’m not even through opening my window when she speaks up. “Are you okay?”
I want to nod and pretend that I am. Still, the hint of concern in her voice draws another set of tears from my eyes. She runs away. Maybe she doesn’t want to stress herself with a stranger, but she returns with a box of tissue.
“I can’t stay. Sorry,” she says as she pats my back, “but can you promise me not to drive until you feel a little bit better?”
I don’t nod because I know that it will take some time before I will ever feel okay.
“I understand that you are going through something. And I don’t know what that is. But you have been swerving. It’s late at night, and there are a lot of asshole drivers out here.” I know that she means me too, but she can’t just admit it because I’m crying. “And I’m afraid that someone might accidentally hit you. Whatever you’re going through right now is not worth your life, okay?”
On a typical day, I would have waved her off. I don’t need any more preaching from anyone. I already get enough of that from my father. But I don’t trust my mouth to be sassy when I can’t even tell her to go away.