Page 61 of The Pursuit of Happiness

“Five years ago. When Satan’s Angels got big. He didn’t want me to play guitar and he didn’t want me to get famous. I think he was jealous I was gaining recognition and making something of myself aside from what he’d planned for me. I think the fact that I was making more money than him hurt his pride too,” I try to ease my tears but the memories of that horrible point inmy life come flooding back.

Sly eases his grip on my arm and gently strokes my skin with his thumb, “And he’s the one texting you?”

I nod, “He won’t stop,” the words pour out of me, exhausted and defeated.

His body goes stiff beneath mine. “What does he want?”

“To make me miserable,” I sob.

“Why is he bothering you after all this time?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. I think it’s because of the tape, but I’m not sure. It’s been so long.” My voice wanders off towards the end.

Sly releases my arm completely and uses both hands to cup my face. “Hey,” he whispers so that I meet his eyes. When I do, I can see the anger rising below the surface. The rage, “Let me see the texts.”

I stiffen, “Sly, no-”

He leaves no room for argument, “Show. Me. The. Texts.”

I hesitate before I nod, rolling off of him to retrieve my phone. I hand it to him and give him the password. I watch as he unlocks my phone and starts reading the texts. I sit about two feet away from him, hugging myself. I suddenly feel so cold. My teeth start to chatter and my vision is so blurry from crying. My eyes feel so puffy. If the ex-boyfriend drama doesn’t turn him off from me, the sight of me will. “He’s texting you from different numbers,” he says quietly, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself.

“Because I keep blocking them as they come,” I say quietly.

I watch as he takes a few minutes to scroll through all of the messages from all of the different numbers. His face goes stark-white and his eyes look so dark, so full of rage. His grip around my phone is so tight that his knuckles go white. I’ve seen him angry before, but I’ve only seen himthisangry one other time and that was the night he attacked the pap.

When he’s done reading, he turns off my phone and keeps ahold of it, looking up and meeting my eyes. A silent moment passes between us before he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I throw my head back in exhaustion as new, betraying tears fall, “Because I was afraid.”

“Of me?” He asks, betrayal in his voice.

I hold my face in my hands, “No.” I choke on the word. “I was afraid that you would agree with him or that you would think it was too much drama for a new relationship and not want me anymore.” I’m laying all of my cards out on the table. There’s nothing I hate more than being vulnerable but, if I’m gonna be vulnerable with one person, that person will be Sly.

I hear sheets rustling and arms wrapping around me and holding me to a firm chest. I instantly feel relieved when I feel the familiar hardness of his body against mine, his warmth seeping into me and comforting me against the chill. I breathe in his scent, which has become so familiar to me in only weeks.

He holds me against him until my tears start to slow, until my breathing slowly starts to regulate. He speaks after minutes have passed. “I wouldneversee you as anything but fucking perfect, Aria Kane. That tape does not define you and it does not defineus.There is not one thing in this world that could ever make me stop loving you.” I freeze when I hear it. I stop breathing at his admission.

Slater just told me he loves me. He just told me he loves me and that nothing could make him stop loving me. I slowly look up at him and find him worried, almost as if he’s not sure how I’ll react. “You- You love me?” My voice comes out a broken whisper.

He nods, never once removing his eyes from mine. “I’ve loved you since I met you, Kane.”

“You’ve loved me since the club,” I whisper to myself now.

Sly brushes hair from my face and shakes his head, “No baby.We met before the club.”

I sit up straighter, “What?” I would remember Sly. I would remember meeting him.

He strokes my face with his thumb, lovingly and so tenderly as he gives me a weak, pained smile. “We met three years ago at The New York City Annual Ball.” His voice is low, weak.

I try my best to remember that night but there’s only black surrounding that night in my mind, much like the night at the club. Brody, Ivory, and I had been doing so many fucking drugs at the time. We were snorting everything in sight and drinking on top of it. We blacked out at almost every function we attended and carried on like that for years, destroying our memories and our bodies. We were like walking zombies back then.

“I saw you that night, you were at the bar ordering some kind of drink and at first I just saw you from behind and I froze. Nate was there and he had asked me what I was looking at. I pointed to you and said, ‘my future wife.’ He laughed me off and thought I was joking but I was dead serious. It was like every single other person in that room had vanished and the only thing I could focus on was you and I hadn’t even seen your face yet. All I saw was that gold dress you were wearing and the butterfly tattoo on the back of your arm. Then when I saw the angel wing tattoo I started to piece together who you were and you had turned around, confirming my theory.

“When you turned around, it felt like my heart had leapt right out of my chest and crawled on its hands and knees to you. One look at you and I was gone. It was immediate love at first sight for me. I needed to have you. Rogan and Miles showed up and asked what I was staring at. Nate answered, ‘His wife apparently.’ I ignored their laughs and took off to you.”

He gives me a sad smile, “I approached you and you could barely make eye contact with me, let alone stand up on yourown. You were drunk and high on whatever it was you’d been drinking and taking. I introduced myself, I asked you out, I told you how absolutely fucking beatiful you were, but you didn’t look interested in the least. I tried to roll with the punches and then you formally rejected me and told me you didn’t date and that you weren’t interested. You walked away from me and I watched you completely forget who I was along with my face as you found your friends.”

I feel rage at my past actions, regret too. I feel so much regret for how I used to treat my body. For how I used to act. The drugs were always a temporary solution to satiate my lust for happiness. They left me feeling just as empty after as I did before I took them. They never fixed anything and they always damaged parts of my life. To think I could’ve been with Slater all those years ago and I didn’t even remember his face because I was that fucked up…I’m disgusted with myself. I could’ve had it all years ago and I was too high to even notice.

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