Page 25 of It’s Me, but Different

“Sloane…”

“No, it's true. And now you're the one who doesn't want to complicate your life. And you have every right in the world, really. I understand.”

She stays quiet for too long. Spinning the glass between her hands, watching how the wine reflects the firelight.

“I have to make a decision,” she says suddenly. “About the job offer in Denver.”

“When?”

“This week. At the latest.”

“It's a great opportunity. If you can get the kids to adapt to having a little less time with you, I think it's very good for your future.”

“It is,” she sighs. “Being a partner at a prestigious firm, establishing myself professionally, giving the kids financial stability…”

“Sounds perfect.”

Again, that look I can't identify, but that increasingly resembles disappointment.

“Why do you have to make this so easy?” she blurts out suddenly, after letting out a long sigh.

“Make what easy?”

“Letting me go. Again,” she adds with a snort while biting her lower lip with a pained gesture.

“And what do you want me to do, Esme?” I ask, confused. “Yesterday you made it very clear you didn't want complications. Do you want me to fight for something you yourself said you don't want?”

“I don't know,” she admits, and her eyes fill with tears. “I don't know what I want.”

“I don't understand anything.”

“Yeah, that's the problem, Sloane, you don't understand anything,” she snaps, getting up from the table and leaving me next to her half-drunk glass of wine.

Chapter 12

Esme

“Go to hell, Sloane Merriweather,” I mutter through my teeth, throwing my phone onto the bed so hard it bounces against the wall.

The impact doesn't calm my rage. I run my hands through my hair, pacing back and forth across the suite like a caged lioness. Sloane's message keeps echoing in my head like a slap: “Lessons canceled due to bad weather. This way, you'll have more time to think about the offer they made you at that law firm.”

This way you'll have more time… What an asshole.

Last night, when we met at the bar, I hoped she'd fight for me. That she'd tell me not to go to Denver. I thought she'd say we'd find some way to make us work… even though I don't even know what “us” is.

For some strange reason, I imagined she'd promise me we'd build something together at Silver Peaks if I gaveher a second chance. I thought she'd assure me my children would be happy here.

Like in fucking fairy tales.

But life isn't a fairy tale.

At least not for people like me.

Maybe it is for the Merriweather sisters. They can do whatever they want with their lives. They don't have to worry about money, or finding work, or raising two kids without anyone's help. Sloane and her sisters were born with a fortune that gives them the luxury of doing whatever they damn well please. I have to go back to Colorado and choose between giving my kids a better financial opportunity by sacrificing the time I'll spend with them, or spending more time together with less money.

It's all a big mess.

And even though it doesn't make much sense, I blame Sloane for it again.