Page 6 of The Five Year Lie

Ariel lifts her head suddenly, and a dozen programmers quickly look away.

Drew’s head is already down, though. He’s tapping code into his keyboard, as if oblivious. But the wordsluttyis still ringing in his ears.

Jesus. Who says that to his own kid?

He doesn’t glance at her again until she walks toward the conference room. Only then does he dare lift his gaze. The yellow dress she’s wearing is sleeveless, but simple in design. It’s not too short, either—just short enough to show off the tattoo on her calf—a profusion of sunflowers. If anything, the dress is preppy, and would look boring on someone else.

But it makes Ariel look like the only flower in a drab place.

Cleaning that conference room should only take ten minutes. But she makes it last forty. And it works for her, because her dad is gone when she emerges. And everyone else is funneling toward the doors.

Except for Drew. He waits, which is a dumb thing to do. But he does it anyway.

And Ariel only scowls at him for it. “Are you about done? I’m supposed to tell the cleaning crew they can come in. There’s nobody here to impress anymore. So you can run along now.”

“Oh, I’m done all right.” He stands up, taking her in. “I’ll bet you’ve had enough, too. That was barbaric.”

Her eyes dip. “That was nothing new. Just his fun little way of showing love.” She picks up her pocketbook. “Get gone. It’s Friday. Time for brewskis and smack talk with the other code monkeys.”

“I think I missed my window. They’re probably three drinks in already.” He reallyshouldbe chatting them up, and not Ariel. But here he is anyway, following her to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” she says. “It won’t do youany favors with the boss. Try putting on kneepads and kissing his ass directly.”

His own laugh surprises him. “That isnoton my to-do list. He needs a lesson in manners. A man shouldn’t speak to anyone that way, let alone his own child.”

“I’m not a child,” she grumbles. “And to be honest, I was a hellacious teenager. We all have our flaws.”

“Still.” He follows her down the stairs, where she pushes the front door open. He takes his first breath of salty, summer air. “It’s not right—”

“Look,” she says, stopping on the sidewalk. “You’re very charming, and not bad to look at. And I know he’s a prick. But I don’t really want to treat it with talk therapy, you know? It’s Friday night, for fuck’s sake.”

He blinks, and then smiles. “What’s your favorite medicine, then?”

“Vodka. Seafood. Live music. Smoking a bowl.” She lifts her chin, turning the suggestion into a dare.

Christ, he’s playing with fire. This might be the dumbest idea he’s ever had, or the best one. It could really go either way. “I’m good for those first three things,” he says, leaning against the brick wall like he owns the place and bringing out his best smile. “But pot makes me broody.” Not to mention that doing drugs with the boss’s daughter is the worst idea ever. “So what’s your favorite watering hole?”

It’s her turn to blink. As if she can’t believe he’d go there. “You followed me out here to console me, huh? Or did you hear the wordsluttyand decide to look for your opening?”

Well, ouch.He’d imagined he was smoother than that. “See, I don’t think that dress actually qualifies as slutty. You’d have to try harder. I don’t know if you really have what it takes.”

She barks out a shocked laugh and then turns her smile away from him, as if it’s something private she’s not willing to share.

It makes no sense, but he actually has to restrain himself from kissing her right then and there. But he controls himself, at least for now.

And then he takes her out for vodka tonics, fried clams and live music.

3

ARIEL

When I finally remember to breathe, I look more closely at the message on my phone. The time stamp is fresh. And when I scroll up, I find the last texts I ever sent to Drew, dated almost five years ago.

There’s not much here. When Drew and I were together, I was still on my parents’ phone plan. Since my father’s day job was essentially spying on people, I never knew who might have access to my texts. So Drew and I used to call each other instead.

What I wouldn’t give to hear his voice right now. Just one more time.

After my father’s sudden death, though, I texted Drew directly. The last frantic messages in our thread are all from me. I begged him to call.