Chapter 9 What We Carry
Sloane
I looked down at the box in my hands. It was small, but whatever was inside was much bigger. I took a breath, pulled away the protective sealing and pried the lid open.
It wasn’t jewelry inside. Not some letter. Just a single, heavy brass key resting on a bed of velvet.
I picked it up. The metal was cold and felt surprisingly heavy in my palm. It wasn't a modern key card or a sleek fob; it was an old-fashioned skeleton key, the kind that belonged to a door that had been locked for a very long time.
"What is it?" Cade asked. He had moved from the window and was now standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were narrowed, focused on the piece of metal in my hand.
"It’s the key to her home office," I whispered.
Cade’s brow furrowed. "Why would she give that to you now? When you haven't officially taken over the business. Usually, that’s handed over after the transition of power is complete. After the wedding."
He was right. Giving me that key was like giving me the crown before the coronation. I looked up at him, hardening my expression. I didn't want him digging into my grandmother’s motives yet. I didn't want him thinking he had a right to see what was behind that door.
"That’s for me to figure out, Cade. For now, we have a contract to honor."
I stood up, tucking the box into my bag. I felt a strange surge of energy, a mix of fear and determination. "Just text me the address of the townhouse. I’ll have my things moved in when I’m ready."
Cade nodded once. "I'll have the guest wing prepared before then."
"Fine," I said. I didn't say goodbye. I just turned and walked out of the office.
…
By Saturday morning, my apartment looked like a war zone. Cardboard boxes were stacked three high in the hallway, and the smell of packing tape and dust hung in the air.
"I still can't believe it," Nina said, tossing a bundle of my sweaters into a bin. She was beaming, her eyes bright with a kind of excitement that made my stomach churn with guilt. "A romantic reunion. The high-society wedding of the year. Sloane, this is like something out of a movie."
I pulled a strip of tape across a box, the screeching sound echoing off the walls. "It's not a movie, Nina. It’s just a solution to a problem."
"Oh, stop being so cynical," she laughed, ignoring my flat tone. "You guys were the 'It' couple. Everyone knew you were meant to be. I knew you’d find your way back to each other eventually. What changed your mind? Last month you wouldn't even say his name without looking like you wanted to spit."
I stopped taping and looked at the floor. This was the hardest part, lying to the person who knew me best. "Nothing else changed,” I said. “The will did. The jobs did. That’s all. It’s the right thing for the company."
Nina paused, a pair of my heels in her hand. She looked at me for a long moment, her smile fading into something more suspicious. "Right..If you say so," she muttered, but she didn't look convinced. She went back to the closet, digging through the back shelf where I kept the things I didn't use often.
I tried to focus on my kitchen supplies, wrapping plates in bubble wrap. I needed to keep my head down. If I looked at her too long, she’d see the lie. She’d see that I wasn't just moving in to save jobs.
"Hey, what’s this?" Nina asked.
I turned around. She was holding a dusty shoebox that had been tucked behind my winter coats. I felt a sudden jolt of panic. I knew exactly what was in that box. I had told myself a dozen times to throw it away, but every time I got close to the trash, my hands wouldn't let go.
"Just some old college stuff," I said, trying to sound casual. "You can just put it in the 'keep' pile."
But Nina had already opened it. She pulled out a stack of glossy photos and started flipping through them. Her expression softened. "Oh, Sloane. Look at these."
I walked over, my heart thumping against my ribs.
The first photo was from our Stanford graduation. We were both wearing our caps and gowns. Cade had his arm around my waist, pulling me close. He was laughing; a real, genuine laugh that reached his eyes. He was younger, lighter. I was looking up at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. The sun was so bright that day, and I remember just how hot the black fabric of the gown felt against my skin.
Nina flipped to the next one. A weekend trip to Napa. We were sitting at a small wooden table in a vineyard, glasses of red wine in front of us. My head was resting on his shoulder, and he was kissing the top of my hair.
"You guys were so happy," Nina whispered.
I looked away. I didn't want to remember the Napa trip or the way his hand felt steady and warm on my back. That version of Cade was gone. He had been replaced by a man who looked at me like a puzzle piece he needed to fit into a map.
"It was a long time ago," I said, my voice sounding thin. "People change."
Nina didn't put the photos back. She reached deeper into the box and pulled out something soft and grey. It was an old t-shirt—a generic Stanford Athletics shirt. It was worn thin from too many washes, the collar slightly stretched out.
"This is his, isn't it?" she asked softly.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
I remembered the night I took that shirt. It was right before the breakup. I had stayed over at his place, and I’d kept it because it smelled like him, cedarwood and expensive soap. After he left, after everything fell apart, I used to sleep in it. It was a pathetic way of holding on to a ghost. Eventually, the scent faded, but the fabric stayed soft, and I couldn't bring myself to toss it.
Nina held the shirt out to me. Her eyes were no longer suspicious; they were pitying. "You still have feelings for him, Sloane. You can tell yourself it’s about the will or the jobs all you want, but you kept his shirt. You kept the..."
"It doesn't matter," I snapped, snatching the shirt from her and stuffing it back into the box. "I'm doing what I have to do."
I walked back to my packing, my movements jerky and sharp. I felt exposed. The walls were literally coming down around me, and Nina was peeling back the layers of the armor I had spent years building.
Nina sighed, leaning against the doorframe. She held up the graduation photo, the one where Cade was laughing.
"Does he know you kept these?" she asked.
The question caught in the air. I didn't answer. I just focused on the next box, my hands shaking as I tried to get the tape straight.
"Sloane," Nina said, her voice dropping into a serious, quiet tone. "Be careful. You're walking into his house with your heart unguarded, pretending it's just a contract. You think you're in control because you signed a piece of paper."
She looked at the photo one last time before setting it on top of the box.
"But you’re moving into a house full of memories with a man who knows exactly how to break you. That's how you might get yourself hurt again. And this time, there won't be a Stanford shirt to hide behind."
I looked at the boxes, their next destination being my past . Nina was right. I was stepping into a trap and I had already closed the door behind me.”