Chapter 8 - Sloane Returned in Blue
The first time I saw Sloane after the scandal, she was wearing blue. I noticed because ivory had become so associated with the bridal salon that part of me expected her forever trapped in white. We met at a financial ethics conference where I was speaking about marital asset coercion and she was scheduled on a separate panel about nominee entities and influencer liability. Neither of us knew the other would be there.
She stopped near the coffee table.
“Harper.”
“Sloane.”
Awkward.
Then she looked at her navy dress.
“I retired ivory.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Probably wise.”
That broke something open.
We had coffee.
Not friendship.
Conversation.
Sloane had started working with a nonprofit that helped young creators understand contracts. Her experience with September Holdings became a case study.
“I tell them the most expensive sentence in my life was ‘Grant said it was fine.’”
“Useful.”
“I also tell them not to sleep with married developers.”
“Even more useful.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“I’m sorry about smiling at you.”
“The salon.”
“Yes.”
“I remember.”
“I wanted to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I thought if you looked destroyed, it meant I mattered more.”
That was painfully honest.
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She nodded.
“I’m glad you didn’t slap me.”
I laughed.
“Were you hoping?”
“Preston was.”
We both stopped.
The manipulation remained ugly.
Then Sloane said, “I still loved Grant after everything.”
I understood.
“Maybe part of you still does.”
“Yes.”
“Does that embarrass you?”
“Less now.”
Good.
She asked about Adrian.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Society gossip survives ethics work.”
“Apparently.”
“He’s good.”
“That sounds terrifyingly healthy.”
“It is.”
We parted with a brief hug that felt weird enough to be genuine.
May you like
Not all reconciliation must become closeness.
Some wounds simply stop requiring distance measured in anger.
