Page 59 of For the Record
Sloane drew back in her seat, mouth agape and looking absolutely affronted. Sawyer could have laughed. “I-I … That’s not it at all. I—”
“Isn’t it, though?” Sawyer’s tone grew icier. From her peripheral vision, McCoy’s leg bounced, much like it’d done at her house over lunch the day Bree invited the twins in. Sawyer placed a comforting hand on her thigh and continued, “It’s why you’re seeking all this unwarranted attention. You’re afraid McCoy might fall in love and leave you behind. Instead of being happy for her, you’ve set out to humiliate her in front of me. Why? You’re being anesti de cave, Sloane, a fucking idiot, to risk your relationship with your sister.”
“Excuse me?” Sloane flushed, the rouge shade doing little for the bags set under her eyes. She spluttered, “Coy, are you gonna let her talk to me like that?”
“It doesn’t feel too good, does it?” Sawyer arched an eyebrow, her hand still on McCoy. She rubbed slow circles over her thigh. “My husband was a master manipulator. So, your antics? Nothing but child’s play.”
“You sure know how to pick them, Coy,” Sloane snapped, shoving the back door open the moment McCoy found parking. She grabbed her purse off the seat and shook it at her sister. “Maybe next time you can find a woman who isn’t a complete psycho?”
The door slammed, and then Sloane was hurrying up the sidewalk, quickly disappearing in the mass of pedestrians milling outside the collective restaurants.
How could twins be so identical and yet polar opposites? Sawyer looked at McCoy and saw new, frightening possibilities. A potential lover who could also be a friend. She was kind, funny, smart and handsome.
Sloane was … none of those things.
An uncomfortable, suffocatingly queasy feeling filled her chest and throat. “Are you okay?” she quietly asked. Any louder and she was sure her voice would break. “I will not apologize for what I said to your sister because it would be a lie.”
McCoy stared out the windshield, both hands gripping the steering wheel like Tegan was her lifeline. A tear slipped down her cheek. “All I wanted was to take you on a date. T-to prove to you …”
Sawyer brushed the tear away, tracing McCoy’s damp cheek with her thumb. “Is that no longer the case?”
“No, I still want to.” McCoy sniffled, turning to look at Sawyer. “But the pub is Frankie’s. I didn’t have a plan B.”
“Is she going to kick us out?”
“Well, no.”
“Okay, then let’s go in.” Sawyer sighed before admitting, “Part of dealing with your past is not to avoid it but to learn from it.”
McCoy huffed a laugh, stating dryly, “Honestly, I’d rather get a second date with you.”
Sawyer’s thumb drifted over McCoy’s bottom lip, tugging on it seductively with the tip of her nail. “Don’t wander off with someone else, and we should be fine, darling.”
“So what do you think?” McCoy gestured to the nachos on the table between them. “Pretty good, right?”
Sawyer raised another bite to her lips, crunching down on the chip coated in toppings and a generous helping ofpico de gallo. She chewed slowly, thoroughly enjoying McCoy’s wide, eager eyes. It was as if she was a judge on her very own cooking show. She was so glad she’d insisted they share a tray of nachos rather than order the grilled chicken and salad McCoy had first suggested.
“Typical pub fare,” she deduced after swallowing. At McCoy’s crestfallen expression, Sawyer held back a smile, adding, “But absolutely delicious, as you claimed.”
“Right?” McCoy grinned, scooping up nachos as well. She seemed lighter than she’d been after the Sloane incident, like she was ready to push past whateverthatwas and enjoy Sawyer’s company. It would have been more convincing if she stopped looking toward the bar for her sister. “You sure you can eat this, though? I was talking to Bree and—”
“It’s fine,” Sawyer interrupted. “I’ve given up more than enough since the heart attack. I just won’t overindulge, alright?”
“Okay.” McCoy didn’t look convinced.
“I appreciate your concern, darling. Truly.” Sawyer reached across the table to pat her hand.
McCoy gave her a tentative smile before eyeing the tray of nachos again. Something else was on her mind, something that had been lingering since they’d walked into the pub. Sawyer wished she’d just spit it out already. Was it about Sloane? Sawyer admitted she could have used more tact with the younger woman, but hearing Sloane drudge up McCoy’s past in such a negative light had goaded her to no end. Of course, nothing about how McCoy had treated either of those girls in high school was attractive in Sawyer’s eyes, but how could she judge her for teenage foolishness? McCoy wasn’t that person now.
“What you said about Olivier.” McCoy’s index finger swiped over the condensation on her glass of ale. She licked her lips. “I had no idea.”
“Yes, well, Olivier was a lot of things,” Sawyer admitted, instinctively tensing up. “A class A narcissist being one of them.”
McCoy glanced at her then, those lovely green eyes brimming with empathy. “I’m sorry. That must have been awful for you and Bree.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sawyer cleared her throat. “But let’s not ruin the evening by talking about that. Tell me about you. What else did you research for this date you’ve somehow convinced me to go on?”
McCoy nodded, clearly accepting Sawyer’s desire to change the subject—just as Sawyer knew she would. “Um … first date questions? But some of them were awful. I’d never ask you what your retirement plans are. Hell, I’d count myself lucky if I can get that second date I’ve been dreaming about.”