Page 124 of Revenge Is a Dish Best Served… Wearing Heels?
But at the same time, I did appreciate them apologizing to me. And I did note that the tables had turned in an odd way that I would have never expected. Because now, I was the one standing tall, confident in who I had become and the life I'd built, and they could barely even make eye contact with me.
The dynamic had suddenly flipped, and I held all the power.
"I have to say," I stated, proud of how sure and steady my voice was, "that I'll have to think about all of this. I'm not sure I can actually forgive you. I'll have to work on that. But for now, I do hear you, and I sincerely thank you for speaking to me about it and for trying. It means more than you know."
Sloane's eyes gleamed suspiciously, like she might be holding back tears. "Thank you," she croaked out.
"Yes, thank you," Preston said, reaching inside his suit jacket and handing me an envelope. If I thought he'd had trouble with eye contact before, that was nothing compared to now as he cleared his throat. "Um, I intercepted this at Tristan's house before he left for boarding school, but it was meant for you."
I glanced down to see a name and address scrawled across the envelope and squinted in an attempt to decipher the messy handwriting. Tristan dropped my hand to brush his fingertips against the crumpled envelope.
"Wait, what is that?" he said, brows drawing together as he stared at Preston. "You took that from my house?"
"I did." His voice was thick with guilt. "I was sure you'd told her the whole story, and I—I didn't want her to know everything. I'm so sorry."
"Jesus," Tristan muttered.
Maybe I wasn't the only one who'd been wronged.
"I... I'm not sure if you've told Astrid yet," Preston said, hesitant as his eyes went back and forth between us, "but Tristan had nothing—and I mean, nothing—to do with the posters. We just panicked and shoved the extras in his locker last minute. And he... well, he took the fall for us."
"Tristan was completely clueless about it all. I think his dad was arrested for a DUI the day before." Sloane shook her head. "And we had no shame doing that to youandto him."
"God, I hate myself right now," Preston said, barely audible.
"Me too."
The silence was deafening as the string quartet finished one song then paused before starting another. I'd almost forgotten where we were, so caught up in my own little drama.
"Listen," Tristan said, "I can't speak for Astrid, but as for me, it's all water under the bridge, and I just want to move on and leave all this shit in the past where it belongs."
Preston gave a short, pained nod before taking a step backwards. "Thanks for that. And thanks for listening. That's really all we wanted to say, so we won't keep you."
Touching her collarbone, Sloane looked so awkwardly nervous, the exact opposite way I remembered her. "If you ever want to talk more about it, just let me, let us, know."
"I will. I appreciate that."
"Enjoy the rest of your night."
And with that, they were off. I let out a deep breath, a bit unsteady on my feet. "Did that really just happen?" I asked the man beside me.
"Yes. Yes, it did." He reached for my hand. "Come on. I think we could both use some air."
Thirty-Three
Astrid
There were several balconies lining the room, and Tristan headed toward one, but someone stopped him, an older man and woman who looked familiar to me.
"Tristan, great to see you," the man said. "It's been a bit, hasn't it?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Jarrett, great to see you too." He sounded genuinely happy about it, even though his eyes conveyed his impatience as he turned to me. "This is Astrid Stratton."
We shared a bit of small talk and discovered that they knew my parents, which explained why I recognized them. After telling us about their recent trip to see their grandkids, the conversation turned to work, first mine, with them oohing and ahhing over my recent successes, and then to Tristan's company.
"How is Hawthorne Properties doing?" Mr. Jarrett asked.
Tristan hesitated, and I studied him, wondering what the strange expression on his face meant.
