Sloan shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. It mattered enough that you said it.” Matty’s voice softened. “It’s okay to let people see you.”
Sloan stared at her. “Is it?”
Matty nodded. “It is. More than you probably realise.”
Sloan smiled, then took a slow sip of her drink, studying Matty over the rim of the glass before she said, “When Dad died, we were all upset of course. He’d taken care of all of us, and then he wasn’t there and we—” she corrected herself, jaw tightening, “Ihad to step up. He left the house to me, my brother, and my sister, to be shared equally, with the proviso that Mum could live in it until she passed away, which was fine. We all had our own lives and houses.
“But then Mum had the stroke.” Her mouth flattened. “And my siblings were...well…” She gave a small, humourless huff. “The responsibility for Mum was all left to me.”
“Yes,” Matty said quietly, “I remember you saying that.”
“What I didn’t say was how they wanted to put Mum in a care home then, but it was me who said no and stood up for her.” Sloan’s mouth tightened. “Those weeks when Mum couldn’t talk or walk and we thought we might lose her were the worst. Janet and Lionel had already decided what they would do with their share. Mum wasn’t even dead.” She looked away, blinking hard, and drained half her glass.
“That must’ve been overwhelming.” Matty’s fingers curled against the table, resisting the urge to reach for Sloan’s hand.
“In the end, I offered to buy them out. I took on the responsibility for keeping Mum in her home.”
“Because you’re admirable, and you have integrity, and you love her.”
“Of course I love her, she’s my mother, but she frustrates the hell out of me.” Sloan swallowed the last of her drink. The empty glass clicked back on the table. “Another?”
“This one’s on me.”
“You don’t have to—”
Matty slid out of the booth and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t make me feel like the hired help.”
“What? No, that’s not—” Sloan turned, grasping her wrist like the last time she’d been at the bar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.” Her grip loosened and fingers slid to link with Matty’s.
Matty held her gaze, aware they were now holding hands. “Did you drive here, or did you walk?”
Sloan nodded. “I can leave the car in the car park. I’ll walk or get a cab.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back. Another Old Fashioned?” Matty asked.
“Please. That would be nice.”
Matty pulled away, fingertips sliding against one another until there was air between them and she could breathe again.
Sloan’s words had been slurred just a little. Years working bar jobs had given Matty a good understanding of when someone was starting to get intoxicated.
It was a little endearing, and she had a feeling it was something Sloan needed to do—something that would loosen her grip on those walls she’d built around herself.
Sloan must have been thinking a similar thing, because when Matty returned and slid a fresh drink towards her, she said, “I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you anything.”
“Maybe I’m just easy to get along with?” Matty answered, sliding into the booth and trying not to make it such a big deal, Sloan would shut down again.
“You are,” Sloan agreed, then became thoughtful. She studied Matty.
“What?” Matty asked, blushing under the scrutiny.
The slow, seductive smile that crept onto Sloan’s face sent shivers down Matty’s spine.
“I was just thinking that if you didn’t work for me, this would be much simpler.”
“Oh.” Matty frowned, not the answer she was expecting.
