Page 29 of It’s Me, but Different

I sit in the chair and signal the bartender.

“A whiskey, please. With ice.”

“Wow,” Sloane murmurs, raising an eyebrow. “I didn't remember you drank whiskey.”

“There are many things about me you don't know anymore,” I respond, maybe with more dryness than I intended.

I think it hurt her, because we fall into somewhat uncomfortable silence, as if someone had built an invisible wall between us. Sloane doesn't even look at me, she seems very focused on drinking her beer in small sips while I focus on the burn the whiskey produces going down my throat.

They say alcohol gives courage, but it also makes everything hurt more.

“River told me about the trap,” I finally blurt out.

Sloane tenses, and her hand stops halfway to the bottle.

“The trap?”

“Come on, Sloane. Don't tell me you didn't know. The special offer, the ridiculously low price, the fact that Julie signed everything so I wouldn't know it was a hotel from your family… all that shit.”

“I didn't know anything,” she interrupts me, turning to look at me directly. “At least when they did it. I swear on whatever you want. I found out the morning you arrived at the hotel, when we miraculously ran out of ski instructors for your kids and I had to take charge of giving the lesson. It bothered me as much as it bothered you,” she adds.

There's something in her voice that pushes me to believe her. Or maybe I want to.

“Really, you didn't know anything?”

“I swear,” she confirms, staring at me with an intensity that takes my breath away. “If I had known, I never would have allowed them to do that to you. I never would have let them use your… your circumstances to bring you here.”

The word “circumstances” hurts me. Being widowed with two small children, my financial difficulties, the need for a cheap vacation for my kids. Everything River and Anika took advantage of to set their ambush.

“But I'm glad you're here,” she adds so quietly I can barely hear her. “No matter how bad the way they got you to come makes me feel, I'm very happy to see you.”

“You're glad? Yesterday you seemed delighted to make my decision to go to Denver easier.”

“Make your decision easier?” she repeats, frowning. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about how you encouraged me to accept it. As if you wanted me to leave as soon as possible. Almost as if you were happy I was doing it.”

Sloane runs a hand through her hair and lets out a long sigh.

“Fuck, Esme. Do you really think that? Do you think I want you to leave?”

“And what am I supposed to think?”

“I thought that was what you wanted to hear,” she explodes, raising her voice enough for some heads to turn toward us. “Because the day before, when we were at The Peak, you made it very clear you didn't want complications in your life. That your kids were the priority and you couldn't risk their stability for 'this,'” she adds, making air quotes when pronouncing that last word. “What was I supposed to do? Beg you on my knees to give me a second chance when you yourself had told me you didn't want to try?"

“I… I didn't say I didn't want to try,” I sigh.

“Esme, look at me,” she interrupts me, placing two of her fingers under my chin to force me to look up. “I made the biggest mistake of my life eleven years ago, and not a single day has passed without me regretting it,” she confesses.

“River told me about your depression,” I admit, looking down.

Sloane tenses suddenly and withdraws her hand as if my skin burned.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“That after you got injured, you sank so low they were afraid you'd do something stupid. That during therapy you discovered it wasn't about your sports career, but because you understood you had lost the person you loved and…”

“River shouldn't have told you those things. It's very personal.”