“I have my secrets.” She shrugs, looking out the window. “But really, how are people supposed to get to know each other if they don’t share about themselves?”
I stare at the road, thinking over her words. I don’t ever share anything real about myself. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a single meaningful relationship in my life.
“In the interest of sharing and getting to know people,” she twists her body so she’s facing me, “where are you from?”
“New Jersey.” I keep my answers short, using information from my trained responses.
“Do you still live there?”
“Nope.”
“Then where do you live?”
“Chicago.” Not true. I have a small house in Kauai where I spend my time when I’m not on a mission.
“Any other family besides your mom in Leavenworth?”
“No.”
“What happened to your dad?”
I smile, glancing at her. “No, no, no. Nice try, but you’re the one that’s an open book. Not me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
“How about you tell me about your family?”
“Well,” she relaxes back into her seat, “My mom and dad run a little candy store on Commercial Street in Leavenworth. I’m the oldest, so naturally, they wanted me to take over the store someday, but I had bigger plans.”
“Like chemistry?”
“Something like that.” Her head tilts to me. “Yes, chemistry was more appealing than taking over the candy store. It’s cute, but it’s just not the life I wanted. Much to my parent’s dismay, I wanted to get out of town, see the world, and be challenged.”
“Aren’t your parents proud of all that you’ve accomplished?”
“They are. But my work pulls me away a lot. I haven’t been home for Christmas in three years. And to them, being with family during the holidays is more important than anything else.”
“I get that.” Actually, Idon’tget that. I’ve never had a family to share the holidays with.
“But I have two younger sisters.” She slaps her thighs with finality. “I’m sure one of them will take over the candy store.”
“Two younger sisters?” I remember the picture of the three of them at the beach in Oregon hanging on her refrigerator.
“They live around here, so you’ll get to meet them.”
“Did I just get promoted?” I smile at her. “One hour ago, I was the sketchy driver you felt stranger danger over, but now you want to introduce me to your family.”
“Well, don’t get too excited. There’s still over an hour left on this drive. I might change my mind about introducing you to my family.”
“Why does this car ride feel like a job interview?”
She laughs. “Probably because it kind of is. But instead of a job, I’m interviewing you to see if I ever want to see you again socially.”
“Oh, so now we’re seeing each other socially?”
She tries to bite back her smile, but I see traces of it. “Well, I have seen you naked—”
“Partially,” I add.
