Page 167 of Sloane

“Don’t let him off the hook, Ash.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

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I let four days pass before the guilt over my bad manners took over.

I can at least say thank you and acknowledge I received everything.

Fuck him, my inner gangster—the one who’d been properly enraged for the last week, pushed back. If he’s worried whether I received it or not, he could have delivered it himself or called. But, per usual, he couldn’t be bothered.

The next day I caved and sent a text.

Me: Thank you for the use of your Jeep. Of course, I’ll sign it back over to you when you’re driving again, but it has really come in handy.

And I appreciate the account for Millie. That will be nice to have when she starts college. We should look at investing that money until then.

Hope you’re doing well.

And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I sent him a picture of Millie that I’d taken earlier that day when she’d been awake and smiling at Stu as he made funny faces at her. I included the caption, Laughing at silly Uncle Stu.

I honestly didn’t expect to hear back from him, so I was surprised when no sooner had I put my phone down and walked away, it dinged with an incoming text.

Sloane: The Jeep is yours. I’m glad it’s helped you, but when you’re ready for something new, trade it in or sell it.

You’re right about investing the money right now. I suspect when she gets older, you’ll need some of the monthly money to offset her expenses, but until then, it’d be smart to put it somewhere where it will make a decent return. I have some ideas, but ultimately, whatever you think is best.

Thank you for the picture of Millie. I know you didn’t have to send it, but it means more than I can express.

I’m hanging in there. Getting stronger every day. Hope you and Millie are safe and comfortable. Give my best to Stu and Crash.

He’d borrowed my opening line from my letters. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Part of me was happy he remembered, but I was also offended. He’d sent my letters back, he didn’t get to quote them.

But he’d thanked me for sending a picture of Millie.

It means more than I can express.

His words meant more than I could express.

I didn’t contact a lawyer about severing his rights, much to Tammy’s dismay.

“I just don’t want that to come back and bite you in the ass in five or ten years when he’s finally gotten his shit together and has a wife and another kid. And his wife convinces him that since he’s essentially been paying child support anyway, Millie should be part of their lives.”

“I don’t think there’s a rush,” I’d replied.

“I’m just saying… you should do this while he’s still amenable to it.”

“You’re probably right.”

Still, I hadn’t done it; telling myself I was too busy, I’d get to it later.

When Halloween came around, I sent him a picture of Millie in her black cat costume—nothing else. There’d been no attempt on my part at a pleasant text exchange. It was just a picture of his daughter. That was how I justified sending it.

Again, I received a reply immediately.

Sloane: The cutest kitty I’ve ever seen. Thank you for sending it.

I reasoned, it was the least I could do, considering he was basically paying child support.

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