This morning was full of surprises.

My first surprise was waking up to an empty bed with a cup of hot coffee sitting on the nightstand for me. Shocker? Yes. Sloane's never made me coffee in the mornings on the nights she's stayed over.

The second surprise was her making breakfast for me. Another first—she's never cooked me anything. And she blamed that on her deceased husband. Apparently, he told her she needed to go to school to learn how to cook.

What an asshole. What did Sloane ever see in this guy, anyway?

Nevermind. I already know the answer. She hoped that staying with him would get me off her mind.

The third surprise was her entering the shower with me. I know some women are shy about showering with their partner because of body image issues, even when they've already seen the other person naked. And I never asked Sloane to shower with me because of that reason.

The fourth surprise was her giving me one hell of a fantastic blowjob for her first time. That one shocked the living fuck out of me. I knew she was nervous about it. I felt her hand trembling when she held my cock. But she still did an excellent job of wanting to please me. And I give her tons of credit for trying.

When I observed Sloane head toward the bed, she had a look in her eye that showed she was nervous about something or that she had a lot on her mind.

I've perceived her long enough to know when she's thinking long and hard about something. And even though she made my morning with all her surprises, I still saw something else was on her mind.

On top of seeing it, I felt it.

I badly wanted to push her for more of the truth about what else was on her mind, but after my sister had told me not to, that it wouldn't be wise to do, I dropped it.

Eventually, she'll tell me. She always seems to open up to me what she's hiding on her own. Which I gather this is one of the reasons Shayla told me to refrain from pushing her into doing something she isn't ready for.

And I hope she tells me soon what was on her mind this morning because when I came home and saw her sitting at the table, in deep thought as she held a pen in her hand, a notebook in front of her, it told me there was definitely something on her mind.

I didn't want to startle her since she seemed to be in another world, so instead of greeting her with a kiss as I would've liked to have done, I went straight to my bedroom and changed into something comfortable: sweats and a T-shirt.

Then I went into the kitchen and looked in the fridge to see what I could make us for dinner since my girl's afraid to cook. I also ruined the one thing she did cook for me just this morning. So we'd be going out to dinner tonight, which Sloane is still nervous about doing.

Thankfully, I learned to cook in my teenage years. My parents worked second and third shifts. My father was a sheriff, and my mother was a 911 operator. So I was the one who had to cook dinner for my sisters and me.

After my parents passed away and my grandmother took over caring for us, I continued cooking, amongst other things, to help her out. It was my way of showing appreciation for her taking us on when she was in no condition to do so.

While removing a package of chicken breasts from the freezer, Sloane grabbed my attention when she finally said, "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner," I said, setting the chicken on the countertop. Then I returned to the fridge to grab the other needed items, saying, "I figured I'd make us chicken cacciatore tonight. Does that sound okay?"

"It sounds good, but I thought we'd go out tonight?"

I stood fast, and with my hand on the door, I turned around, shocked to hear her say she wanted to go out for dinner. That meant going out of her comfort zone. "Go out? For dinner?"

She nodded.

I liked hearing this. And it thrilled me to hear Sloane suggesting we go out again without me trying to push her to be around other people. But it also made me curious why.

My eyes lowered to the notebook she was writing in, growing more curious about what she was writing. With her being deep in thought when I came home, and how she was writing down those thoughts, if that's what she was doing, and now suggesting we go out for dinner, it makes me wonder what this was all about.

"We can go out if that's what you want to do. Otherwise, I'm content with staying here and cooking you dinner."

"I want to go out. I need to go out. I have to go out."

Want. Need. Have.

Okay?

I'm not going to question it. I won't. Sloane's doing this on her own.

Is this what we call progress? Or is it something else?

"Let's go out, then," I said, closing the fridge door and returning the chicken to the freezer. "Where would you like to go?"

She looked at her notebook, twisted her lips, and then at me. I noticed a hint of fear in them, but regardless of what I saw, she surprised me when she said, "Anywhere that would be busy."

"Busy," I repeated as if it were a question.

She swallowed. "Yes. Someplace where it'll be packed full of people."

She's not making any sense to me. Did she start taking new antidepressants or something? She's being incredibly courageous right now.

This is not like her.

I dragged my fingers through my hair. Something strange is going on, and it's causing me to feel concerned and nervous that Sloane's on her way to falling back to where she was.

I wanted to ask her the reasoning for her request. But I didn't. I couldn't. Not after remembering what Shayla told me to do. Instead of asking for her reasoning, believing I'll find out later, I asked, "Are you sure?"

Sounding confident, she answered, "One hundred percent."

"Going out it is."

***

My best friend. My girl. My girlfriend is blowing me out of the fucking water today.

Coffee. I didn't get to eat breakfast since it was burnt because of me. Shower. Blowjob. Mind-blowing sex afterward. Going out to dinner—in a fucking busy restaurant.

Exposed to the world—literally.

Her long, brunette hair was coiled in an updo, showing her long, beautiful neck, wearing the most revealing outfit I'd ever seen her wear—ever...

The curvature of cleavage, her plump, beautiful breasts remarkably showing in the deep V, spaghetti strap black dress she's wearing. Her heavily scarred face and arms were in clear view for everyone surrounding us to see.

Sloane was smiling. She was happy. She seemed to be glowing. And my fucking God. Was my girl ever stunning.

I'm stunned.

Literally. Fucking. Floored.

This girl ordered her meal without thinking about hiding her face. And everything I'm witnessing has me asking myself, who is this imposter, and what have you done to my Sloane?

"I see the wheels spinning in your eyes. I hear it in the quiet sounds leaving your lips. And I feel it in your presence. You're wondering what's going on with me," Sloane noticed as I lowered the glass of whiskey from my lips.

"You can say that."

"Shocked, are you?"

"Do you mean completely surprised? Taken aback? Astonished? Flabbergasted? Astounded? Blown away? Because I'm everything right now." I really am. And without thought, the next set of words just slipped from my lips. "Who are you, and what have you done with my girl, Sloane?"

Her lips stretched into a proud smile. "Good. It was my goal."

Goal? Now she has goals?

Where did this come from?

"Surprised again?"

"This entire day has been filled with surprises. Ever since I opened my eyes," I answered, studying her, still holding the glass of whiskey in my hand, afraid to take another sip of it, fearing I'd miss something with the observance my eyes have on her.

She giggled.

I shouldn't ask this. But I am. "Do you care to share with me what's going on?"

She lowered the glass of water from her lips, confusing me when she said, "I was told I needed to set goals for myself and that I should start working on the ones I've come up with so far."

"Goals for yourself," I repeated, then wondered aloud, "Who told you to do that?"

"The person I saw today," she answered carefully, swallowing.

Curious of who that would be and hoping it wasn't Trent again, I asked, "Who did you see?"

"A psychologist, finally."

Relief coursed through me, thrilled it wasn't Trent. Had it been, I would have excused myself to call him to let him know he needed to back off and let me handle my girl.

Happy to hear she had finally seen someone, I smiled. "That's great to hear. I'm glad you finally went to talk with someone. Can I ask who you saw? Or is that none of my business?"

She momentarily looked at me, biting her bottom lip. Then she surprised me. "I saw Shayla."

Not only did she surprise me. But I'm shocked my sister never mentioned Sloane had called her, or vice versa.

"Surprise," she nervously said, but it sounded more like a question.

My eyes grew a little as I lifted my drink to my lips.

"I know we said we'd tell each other everything. But before I told you that I was going to see her. I wanted to feel her out first. To make sure she wasn't holding a grudge against me—"

"I remember mentioning to you that she wasn't. That she really wanted you to call her," I said, cutting her off. "She's a good person who does her job well."

"I know. But I had to be sure your sister was genuine about it."

I sipped my drink, and before Sloane assumed I was upset, she never mentioned where she was going or who she'd be visiting today; I said, "I'm glad you called her. I'm even happier you went and talked with her. And I'm thrilled to hear and see everything went well."

"Don't be mad that I didn't tell you."

Now I know even more why she was acting the way she was this morning and why she was up making coffee and breakfast. She was suckering me up since she knew who she would see today.

"I'm not mad. Like I said, I'm happy you finally talked to Shayla."

"I also accepted her offer to help me."

My heart swelled.

She's trying...

"I know whatever is said in her room stays, but can I ask how she thinks she can help you?"

A hint of a grin played on her pretty little lips. "You and she are a lot alike."

"Mostly."

She snickered. "She said that, too. But she asked that I write down when the depression started, why it continued getting worse through the years, and everything that depresses me. She also asked that I jot down everything that triggers me to go into depression mode. Then, she told me she wanted me to set goals for myself. Once she sees everything I've noted, she will also give me goals to help me complete my goals."

"That answers my question about why you were deep in thought when I came home."

"Yeah, I was thinking of goals for me and goals to make you happy," she said as our food arrived.

Once our food was in front of us and they refreshed our drinks, I couldn't help but ask what her goals were.

"You can see them when I'm finished writing them down." She slid her fork into her food, and as she held it by her lips, she said, "As you can see, this was one of them."

That's fair.

Now, I'm anxious to see what her goals are.

Lifting a brow, I said, "One of them or many of them?"

She chewed her food, wiped her mouth with the napkin, and said, "Maybe a few of them."

Lifting a brow, I said, "Maybe a few? It's not a maybe. It is a few of them."

I'm curious about what's on her mind and what she wants us to do after dinner. Because something tells me how she's dressed, looking hot as fuck, has me wondering if we're going to the club tonight.

A sparkle of hope and determination appeared in her eye. "Why do you think that?"

"You suggested we go out—again. Only this time, you wanted to go wherever it was busy. You kept your hair away from your face by tying it up. You're wearing a dress I've never in my life ever seen you wear. One that shows all your beautiful curves. You ordered your food without trying to hide your face. You're not hiding your arms. You're smiling and happy, and you're not fidgeting. And you ordered a steak and mashed potatoes."

I sipped my whiskey.

My head cocked to the side as I gazed at the beautiful woman before me, looking warmed by what I've observed of her so far. A smile tugged at my lips as I praised, "You're fucking stunning tonight, Sloane. Gorgeous. Just fucking gorgeous."

She returned the smile. "Thanks, Aaron. I'm glad you approve."

"Keep it up, woman. I fucking love it."

Thanks, Shayla.

"So, what do you have planned for us after dinner?"

"Since it's a Friday night, and as you said, it's the busiest night of the week, I want us to go to the club."

Is this another goal she's trying to tell me without saying what that is?

"And do what?"

She shrugged, smiling as she shoved the fork in her mouth, not telling me anything more than showing me the smile I used to adore.

Which says she's possibly got something naughty on her mind again. Or she's curious to learn more about the things that interest me, hoping she could do whatever those are with me.

Now, because of how her brain has been functioning today. I'm more than interested to see what she has on that new curious mind of hers.

***

I held Sloane's hand tightly as she guided me through the club. She still had yet to tell me what she wanted to accomplish tonight. She claimed she only wanted to walk around, out of curiosity, to see if anyone would look at or stare at her because of where we were, which Sloane got, but what I observed was different than what she felt she saw.

They weren't staring at her because of the scars on her face. They were looking at her in other ways. But they weren't just focused on her. They were eyeballing me.

They were eyeing me, praising me for not showing any sign of embarrassment for who I'd held close to me. They were applauding me for showing a genuine display of pride on my face for the girl who was freely walking around hundreds of people, not caring if cruel words could be said to her because of her looks.

They were admiring her. Her beauty. Her bravery. Her courage for knowing that anyone at the club could be savagely brutal toward her, even when they shouldn't be, because of the type of establishment we were inside.

As much as we'd like to believe there are no stone-hearted bullies at the club or even in our society in general. There's always one in every crowd who'll be monstrous and say hurtful things to the one who's already traumatized by whatever it may be, bringing someone down further than they already are.

Even though Sloane wasn't showing it, I felt her nervousness in the hand that I held.

She's trying.

She's doing this for herself. But she's also doing this for me.

I've been watching her like a hawk since the night I told her I'd like us to be more than friends. And what I've noticed is that she enjoys being praised.

She hasn't said it. But I've seen it in her eyes. On her face. On her lips. In the sounds leaving her jaw. In her voice. And her actions after I praise her for doing or saying something that makes me proud.

I wasn't sure who I should thank for how Sloane was acting tonight. Me? My sister? Trent? Or was it all of us? My other friends included.

Sloane walked me all over the club, never stopping. We just walked, and I observed her and everyone around us closely. Waiting for something terrible to happen, waiting for those awful words to be said to her. Waiting for her to fall.

But none of that ever happened.

She was like an eagle soaring free with no care in the world.

Sloane's eyes were heavily dilated on Trent's shop as we walked past. I wanted to ask if she wanted to go inside; I was curious if there was more she wanted to add to her collection. But she never stopped. She just continued to soar through the club until we got to the voyeur area.

Still unsure what was on her mind, I proceeded to say nothing. She wanted to do this as if she was trying to prove to herself that she could walk around freely without fearing evil words would be said to her.

And she wanted me to be her witness. And she wanted to be praised for her courageousness.

Something she will definitely be getting from me.

This was a start. A new start for something that she wants. Not what I want. But what she wants. And I can only hope this side of her will continue carrying on.

However, while observing my girl's braveness, I sensed her wanting to be at the club tonight wasn't just for her. It was for me, too.

She now has goals to accomplish.

And I get the feeling before she continues jotting down her goals, she wanted to be sure I knew what I wanted, that it was her and only her I wanted in my life. She needed assurance with her own eyes that I was willing to give up my promiscuous ways for her. My threesomes. Foursomes, fivesomes, everything I'd been doing since leaving high school.

For her.

Sloane needed that guarantee I wasn't doing this because I felt sorry for her. She wanted to be sure I was in this for her.

And I am.

I so fucking am.

This is the girl I tried to forget, but I couldn't. As much as I fucking tried, she was still on my mind twenty-four-seven—even while fucking all the women I did, envisioning every one of them was her, I was pleasing.

The exact reason I tossed them away like garbage—none of them were worth holding onto.

Sloane watched every room intensely; the curiosity of everything going on inside every room controlled her mind and body. It was as if she wanted to know if this was what she wanted and needed. Curious if this was the life she'd always wanted but hid those thoughts from herself and the world—her husband included.

She watched, learned, and listened to her body's needs and desires.

Sloane was setting more goals for herself, and right now, I wish I knew what those goals were so I could help her accomplish them. But all I could do was watch and observe and continue allowing her mind to soar free without any interruptions from me. I wanted her to figure out her life, what she wanted for herself, and what she wanted for her future.

Now, I have goals. More than I ever did before. Goals I never thought would ever be. And I will prove everything Sloane questioned about herself, me, and my intentions tonight.

I want Sloane to know I'm here one hundred percent for her and that this isn't some game I'm trying to play with her because of what she did.

Every. Fucking. Day. I will be apologizing for my first reaction to seeing her again after these past twenty fucking years of secretly wishing she'd return to me. Hoping to hear her apologize for everything she'd done and said. And to forgive her so I could have her as mine, finally, because that's exactly what surprisingly happened.

And I can't be any more thrilled about it—something Sloane needs to hear from me to push her further into wanting to get better.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!