Page 36 of One More Chance
The next morning at Sloane's, sunlight poured through the kitchen windows to cut sharp angles across the counter. I stood barefoot on the cold tile, coffee in hand, staring at the new curtains I'd hung up throughout the house as if they might offer answers. That was a project Old Me had promised Sloane he would complete over a year ago, but he'd been too busy seeing how far he could shove his head up his own ass to get it done.
Rufus padded into the kitchen, his nails clicking against the floor and gave me that look of half expectation and half judgment.
“You think she’ll notice the curtains?” I asked him.
He tilted his head, almost voicing his opinion that I was an idiot for even asking.
"Yeah, you're right. Of course she'll notice them. She notices everything," I said as I scratched behind his ears.
Over the next few days, Rufus watched me with quiet patience as I worked on small repairs and renovations. Aside from the curtains, I tackled a dozen little odds and ends around the house: tightened wobbly doorknobs, oiled squeaky hinges, fixed the loose towel rack in Liam's bathroom, installed a new garbage disposal, cleaned the gutters, adjusted the pantry shelves, patched, sanded, and painted the holes in the drywall.
All of it gave me an excuse to spend more time at the house, and I needed a series of projects to ease my anxiety after that fucked up night with Angie.
After three agonizing days without them, I'd run out of things to fix. Thankfully, Sloane texted me that morning they were on the road and what time they'd be home.
Fuck me, thank God. I was about to start building a goddamn gazebo in the backyard.
I spent that entire day riding waves of anticipation and anxiety while preparing the house. I didn't just clean. I cleansed. As if I could erase guilt from scrubbing grout lines. Every surface was spotless, polished, and shiny. I ensured there were freshly washed sheets on every bed. I lit new vanilla and cedar candles, Sloane's favorite, throughout the house. I stocked both the fridge and pantry with everybody's preferred snacks. I even rearranged the furniture in the living room the way Sloane had asked me to over six months ago. I moved the clumpy old dog bed Rufus preferred, the only dog bed we could ever get him to sleep in, near the window.
“Don’t mind me, boy… just rearranging your kingdom.”
Rufus sniffed the old bed in the new location, then flopped down with a groan. He approved.
“Good boy,” I said while ruffling his ears. He let out a huff. “I know. I can’t fix everything with elbow grease and clean floors. But hell… I gotta start somewhere, right?”
He didn’t answer.Obviously. But it felt therapeutic to say my thoughts out loud.
That evening, as I prepared dinner, I heard the car doors slam followed by Violet's high-pitched giggle. The front door opened and Liam was in the middle of a sarcastic quip about a spilled slushie in theback seat. Sloane’s melodic voice, tired but patient, rose to calm them both.
My heart filled with trepidation and joy. I was a man on the outside of his own life, unable to move forward without their permission. Rufus sat at my feet, ever patient for the three days I cared for him, almost as if he truly understood my rambling one-sided conversations with him.
Violet burst in first, already launching into a story about the roller coaster that made her scream so loud it gave Liam a headache. She clung to me like she hadn’t seen me in a month, and I soaked it in.
"Daddy! Oh man, what did you do to the house?"
I laughed and said, "Thought you might appreciate the change. Hope that’s okay."
"It looksfabulous,Daddy!" She gave me another hug before bolting upstairs to unload her luggage.
Both Sloane and Liam stepped in together and my lungs forgot how to work when I saw Sloane. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a loose pony tail, wisps framing her face. She looked especially beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes.
I watched them pause to take in the new curtains and the rearranged layout of the living room. I knew it was a big adjustment. I worried that I'd gotten it wrong, that I'd swapped where Sloane wanted the couch and the loveseat. Part of me worried she would see it as just another thing that the Old Me had neglected, one more request of hers he'd ignored. Now it stood there like an overdue apology.
Thankfully, Liam at least gave me a small smile and quick nod before heading off to his room.
Sloane didn’t speak. Her gaze moved back and forth across the living room, her brow lifting slightly. Then she walked past me, dragginga bag in behind her into the walk-in pantry. I followed her and saw she was already unpacking snacks, mechanically, as if she was trying to ground herself in a routine.
I contemplated my next words. I needed to tell her about what had happened with Angie, but not with the kids still awake.
Her voice broke through my thoughts. “Dawn says hi and she’s sorry she couldn’t help with Rufus.” She watched me out of the corner of her eye, probably gauging how I’d react to the mention of my over-the-top sister-in-law.
“She shouldn’t be sorry. I enjoyed my time with him. Gave me an excuse to avoid people.”
“He probably preferred you to Dawn anyway. She’s all bark, no patience.”
“Yeah, well, Dawn’s idea of ‘helping’ is usually showing up at the door in leopard-print pajamas and telling everyone to relax while blasting old rock albums. Not exactly the calming energy for a dog with a sensitive stomach.” I paused, imagining Dawn on one of her ‘Zen’ days, trying to coax Rufus with essential oils and unsolicited life advice. “I’m pretty sure Rufus tolerates me more than her.”
Sloane chuckled, but I could see her holding something back as she turned to face the window.
