It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
For several seconds, Sloane stared at her coffee. Then she laughed softly. There was no joy in that sound.
The phrase surprised me.
“After all?”
She looked up.
“Especially after all.”
I didn’t understand. Sloane seemed to realize that.
“You know what’s strange?” She smiled sadly. “The people who have hurt you the most are rarely the ones you worry about.”
The words remained between us.
Then he sighed.
“I spent years waiting for Ryan to figure it out.”
My throat tightened.
I thought about the tattoo and the guilt that Ryan carried every day.
“He discovered it.”
Sloane looked away.
“A little late.”
I couldn’t argue.
We remained silent for a while.
Then I asked, “If he apologizes now, would it matter?”
Sloane looked at me. Not angry. Not bitter.
Just tired.
It was the most honest answer I could give.
Three days later, Ryan knocked on Sloane’s door. I stayed in the car. This wasn’t my conversation.
It never had been.
From where I sat, I saw the door open. Then it stopped. Neither of them moved for a long moment. Twenty years of history lay between them.
