Page 50 of Loving Her Enemy

Sloane also found it interesting how there hadn’t been a name card for Clint. His mother was thorough if nothing else, and she wasn’t a fan of last-minute changes. Was it possible she hadn’t known Clint would be joining them?

“And I didn’t know you had gotten married. Congrats, man. How were you able to keep that a secret?” Clint asked on a chuckle. “I’m sure the media is always up in your business.”

“That’s his wife sitting next to him,” Marcella said, pointing her fork at Halayna. “She’s like ten or something.”

“Be careful, Marcella,” Sloane said, a lethalness in his tone that had everyone at the table taking notice.

“Oh, dear, she’s a little older than that,” Sloane’s mother said from the end of the table, her words slurred. “Halayna and Bristol were roommates in college. Can you believe that? My Sloane married a child almost half his age.”

“Dalia,” Sloane’s father said in a warning tone. He hadn’t said much all evening, which wasn’t unusual.

“Well, it’s true,” Dalia continued. “I’m disappointed he didn’t invite us to the wedding. What child does that to their own parents?”

“You guys had a wedding?” Clint asked.

“Oh, you missed that conversation during the cocktail hour,” Marcella said, sipping her wine while staring at them. “He and Halayna got married in Hawaii. We were all caught off guard when they walked in here tonight. It’s a shame they didn’t invite the family.”

“Dammit, Marcella! Why the hell do you care? You’re not a member of my family,” Sloane ground out, his anger simmering just below the surface.

“Sloane! Don’t be rude,” his mother chastised as if he was a child. “You know we all thought you and Marcella would get married.”

She went on to tell everyone about his and Marcella’s relationship. Or at least her version of it, including how they’d dated in high school. How they’d been close since they were toddlers, and how her and Marcella’s mother had assumed their kids would one day marry each other. When she went as far as saying they were each other’s first in everything, Sloane shot out of his seat so fast, the chair almost toppled over.

“That’s it! We’re out of here. Come on, sweetheart.” He helped Halayna out of her seat. They needed to hurry out of there before he said something he couldn’t take back.

His mother stood. “Wait! Don’t leave. You two haven’t even had dessert yet,” his mother said, seemingly genuinely disappointed. “Halayna, dear. Surely, you can talk Sloane into staying a while longer.”

“Oh please. Like she’d ever stand up to Sloane,” Marcella said.

“Shut up, Marcella!” Halayna snapped, and all heads turned to her. “He chose me instead of you. Gawd! Just get over it already!”

Bristol snickered next to Sloane, and he didn’t think he could ever be prouder of his wife than he was in that moment. Without another word, he escorted her out of the room, and Bristol was right there with them.

“Bri!” their mother called out. “Why are you leaving?”

“He’s my ride. Bye,” she said, trying to hide a grin as she leaned close to Sloane. “I told you coming tonight wasn’t a good idea.”

He should’ve listened. She had suggested he and Halayna visit on a different day to break the news to them about his marriage. Too late now.

Sloane had just opened the front door when he heard, “I hope you know this farce of a marriage is never going to last.”

Marcella.

“Sloane, baby, just ignore her,” Halayna said, but he needed to set Marcella straight once and for all.

As he approached her, he wasn’t sure what she saw on his face, but she took a step back.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he said only loud enough for her to hear. “But stay the hell away from my wife. If you keep coming at her the way you’ve been doing, I’m going to come for you. And you don’t want me for an enemy.”

He turned and left, but deep down Sloane knew they hadn’t heard the last of Marcella.

Chapter Twenty-Two

What a night.

Halayna flipped on the light when she made it to the master suite and walked straight into her walk-in closet. She had thought the suite she’d use when first arriving in Atlanta was incredible, but the room she and Sloane shared was like the size of a two-bedroom apartment. At first, she couldn’t understand why it needed to be so big, but she was quickly growing used to it and appreciated all the space.

As she removed her sandals and slipped out of her dress, she couldn’t help replaying some of the events of the night. She could honestly say the Davidsons took dysfunctional family to a different level. The food, from what she’d eaten of it, had been amazing, but the table conversation was stressful as hell. The majority of the conversation centered around her and Sloane and their marriage.