Page 20 of One More Chance
What now?I could kiss you.The thought hovered as I stared at her lips, unable to look anywhere else, as the urge burned harder with every second. I wanted to throw myself before her, press my lips to the hollow of her neck where her pulse beat beneath the sensitive skin there, and whisper the words I knew she needed to hear. Sweet devotions that should have been said long ago with promises I had failed to keep. The urge was overwhelming, a tide of longing that threatened to drown me but I knew better than to act on it. Not now. Not when the space between us was so fragile.
“I'm going to add you to everything,” I said. “The accounts, the business, all of it. No more hiding things. No more leaving you in the dark. And I am going to face myself Sloane.”
She didn’t respond, but I saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
“I will find a rental to stay at that's not too far away,” I continued. “I show up when I say I will. I go to Violet’s and Liam’s games. I help with school projects, with packing lunches, with homework, with bedtime routines. I show up as their dad. The dad I should’ve been from the start.” My throat tightened, but I didn’t stop. This next part was going to be the hardest. “I give you space. Real space. No guilt, no pressure. And if somewhere down the line you still want me gone…” I swallowed hard. “I’ll go. Without pushing back or fighting you. If you tell me to fuck off? I'll fuck off. Forever.”
My voice cracked on that last part, but I kept my eyes on hers. I was no longer aiming for control, for comfort, or for a shortcut back to her heart. I was simply desperate to be worthy of standing in front of her again. I hoped that Sloane would see this for what it truly was; not a plea for forgiveness but a vow that I was ready to finally grow the hell up.
She didn’t respond at first. We sat in silence for awhile before she said, “Fine. You can stop asking for one more chance and just… change. Don’t talk about changing. Change.”
The small opening I needed. I nodded. “I will.”
I stood, my legs stiff and nerves frayed. “Tell the kids I’ll see them later. I just wanted to talk about the business with you.”
“Levi, why tell me now? You never liked talking to me about the business.” She sounded resigned.
The question hit me hard. In that moment, I saw it all: how I’d kept her at arm’s length, and how I’d built walls around everything thatmattered. My pride and arrogance had made me blind to how much she had contributed. How much she had built with me and I felt the sting of the realization, sharp and bitter.
The Old Me had been a narcissistic asshole. Too consumed with his own image to see how much she’d poured into our lives. I swallowed hard as I recalled her attorney’s voice arguing during the divorce: "She deserves half. She helped you get to where you are."
Damn right she had. This woman had poured everything of herself into those around her and I wasn’t going to let her slip away, unnoticed in the chaos I’d created.
“You helped me build it: both the business and this life we have. Hell, Sloane… nothing is mine and everything is ours. I couldn't have done any of this without you,” I said.
Sloane nodded, a brief acknowledgment of something she had known all along. “Thank you for that.”
I smiled and said goodbye.
Chapter 9
After that conversation with Sloane, I knew I had to do more than just show up now and then. I had to earn back what I’d broken.
I started with flower deliveries to the house. When I called a local florist, the warm voice of an elderly lady greeted me and introduced herself as Margot.
"Now, are these for a special occasion?" she asked. "A birthday, perhaps? Maybe an anniversary?"
"No," I said. "They're for… forgiveness."
There was a pause on the line before she said, "Blue hyacinths, then, are a good start. You see, they mean sorrow and regret. What else would suit?" I heard her clucking her teeth as she thought. "White roses, I feel, are a must if seeking forgiveness."
"Do they mean something, too?"
Margot laughed at that, a hearty and warm sound that reminded me of my grandmother. "Oh, dear. All flowers mean something. Yes, white roses are for sincerity and, sometimes, also new beginnings."
"Then that's perfect. Blue hyacinths and white roses. Every week."
The day after that first delivery, I asked Sloane if I could swing by the house to walk Rufus during my lunch breaks. Thankfully, she consented. In reality, it was just an excuse to ensure the house was clean before she got home with the kids: counters wiped down, floors vacuumed and mopped, dishes put up, laundry folded and put away, snacks for her and the kids prepped and waiting in the fridge. Dozens of things the Old Me had never thought about to do on my breaks despite the business being only ten minutes away.
A week passed by and we fell into a new familiar pattern that I was appreciative of. I went to board game night with Violet and on quiet drives with Liam. I cooked celiac safe dinners for both Violet and Sloane. I helped both of the kids with their school projects, relishing every second as if they were precious treasures.
Because they were. They always had been. Old Me was just too self-absorbed to see it before. It sickened me to remember all of the time Old Me had thrown into the gym, or a bar, or some inane meeting.
Despite those moments of respite, there was something else looming. Something only I knew was coming: the virus, the shut downs, the panic, and the chaos that approached. So between late nights at the business and early mornings checking numbers, I was making moves: fast and calculated ones.
I went to an estate attorney I’d worked with before, the one who had helped me and Sloane write up our wills. I told him exactly what I wanted: two revocable trusts, one for Liam and one for Violet. That part was easy for him. When we began discussing asset allocation, however, the conversation got tense.
He raised a brow as he scanned the portfolios I had already built for the kids: a struggling e-commerce company, the smallest of the pharmaceutical giants, a biotech penny stock, and a tech start-up thatnobody had ever even heard of. “This is a risky mix, Mr. Shaw. Especially for your children's futures. Are you sure these are the companies you want to invest all of this money in?”
