Sloane was tired. She had worked like normal, then rushed home to clean the house and cook a three course dinner for Randy and his work pals along with their partners. 12 people were sitting around the table. Sloane kept a yawn within while her bright blue eyes kept moving from person to person to pretend she was listening whenever they were speaking.

"This was amazing. I don't know how you do it with these dinners," Seth said.
"I had help from my girlfriend," Randy smiled at Sloane. "I shopped yesterday and started cooking as soon as I came home, and she helped with the salad and such. And she set the table."
"Beautifully folded napkins," Charlotte pointed out. "Where did you learn that?"
"YouTube," Sloane said.
"She finds it all on YouTube," Randy chuckled. "But let's not talk about napkins. How about that fight at work earlier between Sasha and Bayley? What happened?"

A strand of Sloane's chai blonde hair made its escape from the hairdo she had spent 15 minutes on arranging. She stood up as quietly as she could.

"Excuse me," she mumbled.

She hurried to the bathroom to fix her hair. Randy would get upset with her if everything wasn't perfect on a night like this, and that included how she looked. She looked in the mirror and sighed. It didn't feel like herself staring back. She looked like someone who had given up. She took a deep breath to find the happy Sloane inside to go back out in the living room and once again play her part. She opened the bathroom door and found Becky standing there.

"How long are you gonna put up with it?" Becky asked.
"With what?" Sloane asked.
"That asshat sitting out there stealing all your glory," Becky answered. "We've known you both long enough to know he can't cook for shit, and there's no way in hell you're gonna convince me he lifted a finger with anything for tonight. He's a selfish prick."

Sloane sighed at hearing that. It had to be really bad if other people were catching on.

"Are you okay, love?" Becky asked.
"He always does that," Sloane said. "He puts it all on me and demands I do everything, and then he swoops right in and steals all the glory. I am tired, Becky. I have my own work to deal with as well but it's like that doesn't matter to him."
"It doesn't. That's clear as daylight," Becky said.

Becky pulled Sloane in for a much needed hug.

"Why do you stay with him?" Becky asked.
"I've been asking myself that many times lately," Sloane said.
"If you ever need help getting out, call me. You got my number. You can come live with me and Seth. And don't think Seth will tell Randy anything just because they work together. Seth can't stand Randy," Becky said.
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," Sloane said.
"I know how much you love our house. We're actually in the process of building a new house. If you wanna buy our current one once we move, it's yours. Come live us and get a good feel of the house and see if you want it," Becky said.

Sloane's mouth opened but she wasn't sure what to say. It meant a lot that Becky offered to help like that, and it was true she loved their house. Becky chuckled and placed two fingers under Sloane's jaw to push her mouth shut.

"Close your mouth, love. It's getting windy in here," Becky joked. "My offer stands. Think about it. Call me if you need anything or just want to talk. I'm here for you. We're both here for you, Sloane."


Once the guests had finally gone home later that evening, Sloane decided to try and take it up with Randy.

"Why do you always do that?" She asked.
"Do what?" He asked.
"Pretend like you did anything," she answered. "You know damn well I cooked everything that went in on that table tonight, and you're acting as if I did nothing."
"Are we really doing this right now?" He asked.
"Why can't you just be honest? Do you have any idea how much it hurts hearing you speak as if I've done nothing for your guests?" She asked.

His eyes turned hard and she knew there was no arguing with him when he got in that mood.

"Really, Sloane?" He raised his voice. "Let's talk about everything I've done for you. I make more money than you. You live in this lovely house because of my work. Where the fuck do you think you would be today if this house didn't come along with my job title? You would be on the streets. And you know what? You know where the fucking door is if you're not satisfied. Pack your shit and leave tonight for all I care. See how fucking fun it is sleeping on the streets."

He stared her down and she didn't dare to speak. One wrong word and he would kick her out on her ass. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks but she ignored them. She knew better than to move or do anything in a moment like this. He needed to feel like he had won.

"Are we done here?" He asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good," he said. "Now clean the fucking table. I'm so fucking angry I can't even look at you right now. I'm going to bed."

He stomped out of the living room and left her behind to clean up after 12 people. She worked slow. Not only because she was exhausted but also because she knew the extra time would make sure he was asleep once she was done and went to the bedroom. She really didn't want to hear his voice anymore today.