Jade frowns as though I’m being an inconvenience. “Sloane—”
“No. You don’t get to dump all this on me as if it's my fault she left me when I was five. You've just succeeded in making me feel worse than I’ve felt in my entire life.”
“Good,” he says. “Maybe you’ll come to your senses.”
I glare. “You’re good at making assumptions, right? Then here’s a thought. Maybe my mom married you—a young man—to prove to herself she could do it right this time. Think about that, motherfucker.”
Then I turn and walk, not before seeing his face turn to stone.
He started a war. He has no idea.
I pass a trash can near the lot and lift the bouquet.
I’m about to toss it when I spot the envelope tucked beneath the ribbon.
I open it. Two papers.
One is a small note: ‘Do you have any idea how restless I am
