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“Oh.” She visibly relaxed. “That’s funny.”
“You’re not laughing, though.”
She raised her bright blue eyes to mine. “I think I’m still in shock that you actually tried to be funny.”
“Tried and failed,” I said, before popping the last bite of sandwich in my mouth.
Ari opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell.
“What the hell?” I muttered, standing. “No one should be here.”
Ari gasped and seemed to curl in on herself. I took in her odd behavior but said nothing.
“Stay here,” I told her.
She nodded her head, and I was surprised she actually listened to me.
I stepped out into the hallway and caught a glimpse of who was outside in the slim window beside the front door.
“Aw, hell.” I quickly skittered back into the kitchen.
“Who is it?” Ari asked, fear shimmering in her eyes.
“My parents.”
The fear left her eyes at my statement, and she exhaled a long breath. “Thank God,” I heard her whisper under her breath.
“Get in the closet.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her off the chair.
“What?” She gasped. “Are you crazy?” She tried to yank her arm out of my hold, but I only tightened my grasp.
“Possibly,” I responded, shoving her into the pantry closet. “Now get to organizing.” I pushed the door closed and ran to answer the front door—the doorbell was ringing for the fifth time by that point.
I swung the front door open at the same time an angry Ari launched herself at my back.
I was surprised, and unable to hold both of our weights. We went tumbling to the ground at my parents’ feet.
“Dammit, woman,” I groaned, rolling to my feet. I rubbed at my neck before reaching down to help her up. “What the hell was that for?”
“You shoved me in a closet,” she seethed, jabbing a finger into my chest.
My parents began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped, rubbing at my sore neck again.
My mom responded first. “Oh, just that I jumped on your dad’s back like that after one of our first conversations.”
I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m glad we could amuse you. What are you doing here?”
My dad let out a laugh. “You could at least act like you’re happy to see us.”
I forced a smile. “See?” I pointed at my face. “Happy.”
My mom shook her head, grinning at me. “You are one-hundred-percent your father’s child. Sometimes I wonder if you have any part of me.”
“I have your eyes,” I reminded her.
“That’s true. Now, are you going to invite us in or do we have to force ourselves inside?”
