Matty smiled. “Don’t worry, I’d have done the same.”
Sloan left her there and went into the lounge.
Gloria was in her chair, blanket over her knees, cane within reach, expression pinched but composed. She looked up as Sloan entered, suspicious as ever.
“Well?” Gloria said. “Have you come to inspect the damage?”
Sloan ignored that. “Everything alright?”
Gloria gave a small, dismissive sniff. “I’m still alive.”
That comment was not exactly reassuring.
Before Sloan could ask anything else, Matty came in balancing two plates and a mug of tea.
“Correction,” she said, “you’re alive and about to have lunch.”
She set the mug down on Gloria’s side table and passed her a plate.
Gloria looked at it. “Triangles?”
Matty shrugged. “You strike me as someone with standards.”
Gloria made a noise in her throat. In a different person, it might have sounded like amusement.
Matty turned to Sloan and held out the other plate. “Ham and cheese?”
Sloan blinked. “What?”
“For your sandwich.”
“I’m not staying.”
“Then you can eat it standing up and pretend you’re in a rush.”
Sloan stared at her. “You made me lunch?”
“You looked like someone who’d forgotten more than a charger.”
Against her will, Sloan felt the corner of her mouth twitch.
Matty handed over the plate, their fingers brushing again, just for a nanosecond, but it was noticed. Sloan looked down at the neat triangles, the small pile of crisps on the side, and felt a strange little jolt of domesticity she had absolutely no use for.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“I know. I can make me another one.” Then, as if it were the most normal question in the world, Matty asked, “How’s your day going?”
Sloan let out a short laugh. “You don’t want the real answer.”
“Try me.”
“Meetings. Problems. More problems. A man in Boston who thinks forwarding an email counts as solving something.”
“Sounds grim,” Matty said.
“It is grim.”
“Then eat the sandwich. Might improve your outlook.”
