Page 57

makes you say that?”

“Look at this.” She flipped through the manila folders.

“This is type A, overachieving perfection. It’s like you’re incapable of doing the bare mins.”

A new kind of heat flooded Ari’s body. It was a lot less fun than the first. “It’s just a few notes,” she replied, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt.

“But like . . . you were definitely always the line leader, right? The kid that got to help the teacher pass out papers because you were always done with your work before the others.”

Ari suppressed a chuckle. “I feel very attacked right now.”

“So, it’s true.” Sloane laughed, the sound sending Ari’s heart thumping in double time. “Tell me how little Arwyn was the apple of her parents’ eyes.”

“Only because I’m an only child. I kind of win by default.”

“I knew it,” she replied, smacking the desk. “What are they like?”

“Who? My parents?”

“No,” she replied with an eye roll. “Your fifth-grade teacher. Who is responsible for making you?”

Ari cocked her head to the side. “The words sound like they could be complimentary and yet . . . the tone says otherwise.” She chuckled before shaking her head. “What do you want to know about my parents? They’re . . . just parents,” she added with a shrug.

Sloane leaned forward, resting her elbows on the shared part of the desk. “Where did they meet?”

“Well,” Ari smiled, hearing her dad’s voice in her head.

“My father likes to say they were elementary school

sweethearts—”

“Holy shit!” Sloane interrupted, her dazzling hazel eyes wide. “How long have they been together?”

“It’s the ultimate dad joke,” she explained after cresting a wave of embarrassment. “He says that because he was the head of maintenance and she was the lunch lady at the same school when they met and fell in love over sawdust and juice boxes. But they’ve made it thirty years, so that’s something.”

“Wow, a regular Nicholas Sparks, huh?” Sloane replied with a smirk.

“If you ask him, he’s a combo of Sean Connery and Dean Martin, but he’s more like a dorky sit-com dad. They were in their late thirties when they met, and honestly, I think the universe was waiting to put them together. No one but my mom thinks he’s funny.”

“Oh wow, so when did they have you?” Sloane asked, leaning in as if Ari’s family was a fast-paced thriller.

“My mom was forty. I grew up with everyone thinking they were my grandparents.” Ari shrugged. “But they always joke that I kept them young. They say that’s why they’re still working even though they could have retired, but—”

Ari stopped herself. In the unexpectedly comfortable conversation, she’d forgotten who she was spilling her guts to.

“But what?”

“Nothing.” Ari’s body burned with shame. She wasn’t going to admit to Sloane that they couldn’t a ord to stop working.

“Hey,” Sloane extended her hand and put it over Ari’s,

“you can tell me.”

Staring at her bright eyes beckoning her to be honest, Ari was powerless. “They don’t exactly have generous 401(k) plans. To earn the max on their pensions, they have to work five extra years after hitting retirement age. After that, they should be okay.”

“And yet you chose public service working for peanuts instead of getting a six-figure job. Interesting,” Sloane said in her most unreadable expression.

“I considered it,” she replied with more unexpected honesty. “Talked it over with my parents, but we all agreed I’d worked too hard to sell my s—” When Ari’s brain caught up to her mouth, she closed it so fast she bit her tongue.