Page 81 of One More Chance
My jaw tightened as they walked down the hall together. I couldn’t look away, watching her move beside the man I knew she had come to trust and love in my previous life.
Feeling light-headed, I sank back down into the chair in the waiting room and stared at the floor as if it might anchor me. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
How could I have either forgotten or not known Charlie was already part of her life? How had I not even considered the possibility that she'd already met him?
Because you're a fucking idiot.
While I didn't disagree with my self-deprecation, I knew it had to be more than just that. When it came to most things, I was about as sharp as a bowling ball. But this had to go beyond mere stupidity.
I was so hyper focused on winning Sloane back, preparing for this pandemic, dealing with Angie's crazy ass, keeping tabs on Violet's online activity, being a better father and more present partner that… yes, I had forgotten all about Charlie.
Because you're a busy idiot.
I told myself that Charlie being in the picture didn't change anything. I was still here. My priorities hadn't changed. But in that moment, I was acutely aware that if I fucked up the second chance I'd been given and shattered my marriage again? Charlie would be there to pick up the pieces.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, Sloane returned alone. She looked exhausted, her arms folded tight across her chest.
“Rufus has two fractured ribs,” she said as she sat next to me. “Nothing punctured, thank God. They’re giving him pain meds, monitoring his breathing. He’ll stay overnight.”
I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat.
I tried and failed to keep my tone light and teasing as I said, "You never told me you worked alongside one of your book boyfriends. Does Dr. Monroe also do Pilates?"
Sloane didn't laugh, her face grim. "Levi, you've never wanted to talk about my work at the clinic. You said it was too depressing, hearing about all the animals we have to put to sleep."
Fuck, the Old Me was such an asshole. Come on, big guy… dig yourself out of this one.
"I did say that… didn't I?"
Sloane just scoffed.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. "That was unkind of me. I see that now. I am sure this place, the clinic, the stress of it? I know it weighs on you. I should have been there for you to talk to about it."
"Yeah," she said with a voice of stone, "you should have."
We sat together in silence for a moment. I tried to keep my tone neutral and steady, hoping not to betray the worry that raged within me. "I'm glad I finally got to meet him."
Sloane glanced over. “Dr. Monroe?”
I took a chance with what I said next. “You mentioned him once before. You said you admired him.”
Her tone shifted, softened. “Yeah. He’s one of the good ones.”
I nodded. "Yeah… I know."
"I'm amazed you even remembered." She looked at me, as if she were analyzing an abstract painting.
"I know, right? Your idiot husband actually remembered something," I said as I stood and brushed off my jeans. “We should check on the kids. Since when has the clinic had a game room?”
Sloane led the way down the hall. “Since Charlie's nonprofit paid for it. I thought it was really considerate of him. Some families can’t leave their kids behind, have to bring them up here, and so they have different consoles to choose from. With the parents’ consent, of course.”
“Yeah,” I said, as an uneasy edge crept into my voice. “He really thought of everything, didn’t he?”
She made a noncommittal sound.
As we walked down the hall, I tried to shift the conversation before I lost my nerve, before the sight of our kids distracted me. I kept my voice low and delicate, as if speaking those next words too loudly would shatter what we'd been rebuilding together.
“Sloan, I want to work on our marriage. I want you back.”
