Page 88 of One More Chance
Over the course of the following week, life felt as if it were on the edge of shattering again, but this time the tension came from a different place. I’d kept my head down, to focus on repairing what was brokenaround the house and pushing away the fear that Angie might come back to hurt us in some other way.
While Rufus had been given the greenlight to come home, he still needed daily visits from a veterinarian, which would have been difficult given the pandemic and shutdowns. However, Considerate Charlie, ever the professional, had offered home visits for his closest patients. And since we were only ten minutes away from the clinic?
Charlie had been in and out of the house every day that week.
On the surface it was to check in on Rufus’s recovery. But each visit lasted a little longer than the previous one, and led to more frequent and deeper conversations between him and Sloane.
That would have made me uncomfortable on its own, but it was the added fact that Rufus's cancer treatment was being fully paid for by Charlie's nonprofit. He didn't have to do that; he knew he didn't have to. Anybody who took a single glance at our home would recognize we weren't hurting for money.
Then there was the nonprofit itself, funded by Charlie's lucky investments. It ate at me that I had either forgotten entirely, or possibly was never even aware, that the man had his own nonprofit in my previous life. It was a painful reminder of just how little the Old Me noticed anyone or anything that did not directly benefit or hinder his daily life.
Yet despite all of those unsettling pieces, the part that caused me the most unease was that first visit when Charlie came to check on Rufus.
I'd opened the door to let him in, and his composed mask of confident competence cracked a fraction; he was shocked, perhaps crestfallen, to see me standing in the house I had built. I knew Sloane had told him about our separation, but it was apparent she hadn't mentioned I'd moved back in.
That first visit, he sat down with me and Sloane to talk through Rufus's treatment plan, and ensure we didn't have any questions. During our conversation, Sloane asked if I could grab pen and paper from my room. When I returned, I saw the realization sparkle in his eyes and the ever so subtle upturn of a smile; he knew I wasn't sleeping in the master bedroom. The man's face was almost unreadable, but there was a hungry hope there that never left my mind.
Despite the obviously tense situation, he and I remained cordial.
After that first week, with Rufus nearly recovered from his initial injury, Charlie’s visits grew sparse. He came less frequently, only popping in a few more times for check-ups. Until one day when he showed up at the front door with a different look on his face. It was subtle, but it was there… a shift in his demeanor. There was something in his eyes, something more certain, more intentional.
When I opened the door to him that afternoon, he didn’t offer his usual easy smile. Instead, his gaze was firm, calculating, as if he’d made up his mind about something. It was disarming, and elevated the tension between us.
“Levi… how is Rufus holding up?”
“Better,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral. I held the door open for him, trying to appear welcoming. “A little more energy, but still on the mend.”
He nodded as he stepped inside, but he lingered in the doorway… almost as if assessing the space between us. He studied me for a moment before he spoke again, his voice lower this time.
When he spoke next, his tone was casual, but there was an edge beneath it. “You know, I have been thinking about a few things. About you and Sloane.”
I froze, my fingers clutching the front door knob as every muscle in my body turned rigid. “What about us?”
His eyes narrowed. “Sloane told me what you did."
Bullshit. Sloane isn't the type to gossip about our problems.
But I knew he was telling the truth. This was the man she married in my previous life, the man she grew to love and trust. That relationship did not start in a vacuum; it started with her sharing the parts of herself with him that she felt she couldn't share with anyone else.
I took a deep breath before I said, "And?"
"And I know you are trying to do the right thing this time. But the truth is, I have seen the way things are between you two. We both know how this plays out-"
You don't know shit, buddy.
"So do you agree that you should do what is best for Sloane?"
My face was a furnace as I clenched the doorknob. I wanted to rip the front door from its hinges and beat the smug prick with it.
Instead I asked, "I suppose you know what's best for Sloane?"
He shook his head. "No, Levi. Only Sloane knows what is best for Sloane. I am asking you… are you capable of allowing her to decide what that is?"
Sloane came up behind me, her voice full of surprise and warmth. “Charlie!” She greeted him like an old friend, her tone inviting and genuine.
I excused myself with a slight nod and stepped into the kitchen to busy my hands with the dirty dishes. It gave me the distance I needed, allowing me to stay out of their line of sight… but within earshot.
Because eavesdropping on your wife is a great way to rebuild trust, you idiot.
