Dani exhaled, shaking her head like she already knew Sloane wouldn’t let this go. "Well, if anyone’s stubborn enough to make a Doctor Frosty cave, it’s you."
Sloane grinned, tipping her coffee cup toward Dani in a silent toast. "Now that’s the kind of faith I like to hear."
Sloane stood in the middle of the hospital hallway, surrounded by a small group of nurses as she entertained them with a story of when she was embarrassed at a gallery opening. She waved her hands animatedly, miming when she dropped her own not-yet- dried painting, and the nurses leaned in, enthralled.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Catherine materialize from what looked like the break room, clutching what looked like a disposable coffee cup. Catherine was already looking at her, what looked like a frown fixed on her face as she approached, her heels clicking on the tile.
Sloane shifted and smiled. “Dr. Harrington.”
Catherine folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”
Sloane placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Wow, not even a hello? I thought doctors were supposed to have good bedside manner.”
Catherine arched her brow. “Try answering the question.”
Sloane smirked and pointed to a large canvas leaning against the hallway wall. “Well, if you must know, I’m delivering commissioned artwork to the pediatric ward. You know, for the kids, to brighten up the place.”
Catherine’s eyes flicked to the canvas briefly, then back to Sloane, then back to the canvas, as if trying to decide if Sloane was being legitimate or if it were just a little too convenient of an excuse to be here at the hospital at the same time as her.
Catherine exhaled, leveling her with a sharp look. “Don’t play games with me.”
Sloane tilted her her head slightly. “No games,” she said, smoothly. “Just delivering the painting and getting some coffee.” Her voice dropped slightly, just enough to make Catherine have to lean in to hear here. “And maybe an answer as to why you vanished like a thief in the night.”
Sloane saw the small muscles tightening in Catherine’s jaw. The nurses she had been entertaining just moments before exchanged glances then made themselves scarce, dispersing and shuffling off with whispered excuses about paperwork, leaving Sloane and Catherine alone in the middle of the hallway.
Catherine took a long sip of her coffee, but Sloane could see it was just a way for her to stall. “There was nothing to talk about,” she said, her voice crisp and detached.
Sloane let out a soft chuckle, the sound laced with an edge. “Oh, sweetheart, you can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. I know what last night meant.”
Catherine straightened. “You’re reading into something that isn’t there.”
Sloane sucked her teeth, unconvinced. “That’s funny because I could’ve sworn I felt something.” She leaned in, just a fraction of an inch. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Catherine’s intense stare wavered as she looked to the floor and shifted her stance. “I don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” Catherine gestured vaguely between them, frustration seeping into her voice. “Whatever this is.”
Sloane leaned back and studied her for a few beats, then nodded. “Okay.”
Catherine simply blinked. “Okay?”
Sloane’s lips curved upward at the corners. “Okay as in we don’t have to define this, but that doesn’t mean you get to pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Catherine looked at her, as if searching her face, but she otherwise stayed silent.
Sloane tilted her head. “Dinner.”
Catherine frowned. “What?”
“Have dinner with me.”
“I—”
Sloane held up a hand. “On your terms. No tricks, no grand gestures. Just dinner. And if at the end of it, you tell me you feel nothing, I’ll walk away.”
Catherine’s silence stretched between them, and Sloane gave her the time she needed to really consider the offer, though with each passing moment, Sloane’s skin prickled in anticipation.
