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Sloane shrugged as if she couldn’t care less, but her continued questioning made it obvious the opposite was true.
“Not too many that count,” she replied, playing with the stem left after they’d eaten all the grapes.
“Are you not into serious relationships? Because I can see you very at home driving a minivan full of ru ans to various after-school commitments.”
Laughing, Ari threw the stem at her. “Did you just call me a soccer mom?” She feigned o ense, prompting Sloane to grab her by the empty belt loop on her jeans and yank her toward her.
“Maybe more like a MILF,” she joked before kissing her with lips still sweet from the strawberry she’d eaten last.
“And where does that leave you in this scenario?” Ari pressed, knowing the joke was probably a little much for a first date, but breathing it into life anyway.
Sloane’s mouth was warm as it kissed a trail from Ari’s mouth to her ear. “Maybe I want to be a DILF,” she whispered before sinking her teeth into her sensitive neck.
The prospect of married bliss with Sloane was as overwhelming as the pressure she was creating with her mouth. Ari threw her head back and let the sensation raise the temperature in her body and set o the addictive ache of desire.
Through half-lidded eyes she saw a shark wiggle into view, reminding her where they were. “Do you think our boy in security has cameras in here?”
Sloane moved her hand from Ari’s hip and retreated from her neck. “Are you afraid of getting in trouble, Buttercup?”
Ari quirked an eyebrow. “You know I detest that nickname, right?”
Sloane smiled, her kiss-swollen lips pale after having lost her gloss somewhere all over Ari’s skin. “Obviously. Is that the only reason you hated me in law school? Because I’m so good at coming up with clever monikers?” She joked, but Ari sensed the legitimacy in the question. It’s what they’d been tiptoeing around for months.
“I didn’t hate you—”
“Lies,” Sloane said, sitting up and making it clear there was no running away from this conversation.
“It wasn’t hate,” Ari insisted, sitting up and straitening the shirt Sloane’s wandering hands had crumpled.
“Then what was it, because I’m pretty sure we can’t live this minivan fantasy until we air this out,” Sloane said before taking a sip of the nearly empty bottle of Prosecco and passing it to Ari.
“In a lot of ways . . . I was jealous.” Ari’s chest tightened as she spoke a truth she hated to admit. “You didn’t give a shit about anything. You never tried and you still managed to get everything I wanted. A six-figure job. A top five ranking
—”
“First,” Sloane interrupted defensively, “you don’t give a shit about money or you would have gotten a six-figure job too if you wanted it. I bet you don’t make it at that o ce five years before you get poached by the feds or end up the youngest judge on the bench. Civil litigation was never your dream, so don’t blame me for having di erent goals.”
Ari’s jaw tightened. Sloane always had a way with facts.
“Second, you seriously think it’s possible to excel in law school without trying?” Sloane’s question was pointed and dripping with contempt. Ari would’ve apologized if only she’d stopped there. “Just because I don’t wear every damn emotion on my face like you doesn’t mean I don’t care, Arwyn.”
The accusation instantly made Ari defensive. “I don’t wear my emotions—”
“Please, I’ve tried to tell you a million times you have no poker face. It’s cute . . . sometimes, but other times, it’s exhausting.”
Ari was at a loss. She hadn’t expected the sudden change, the biting chill in Sloane’s tone.
“You were all embarrassed when your parents showed up to our swearing in wearing jeans. Don’t you think they noticed you nearly pushing them out of there? I didn’t miss it because you were practically screaming it. Did you see me all weepy because no one showed up for me? No. You know why?”
Sloane didn’t even take a breath as she continued her tirade, her neck flushing an alarming deep shade of red.
“Because I’ve had to hide my feelings my entire life.
When my father left when I was eleven to start a new family with a woman seven years older than me, I couldn’t even cry because it would enrage my mother.”
Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, but they didn’t dare drop down her cheek.
“The last time I heard from him was when I turned twenty-one and got the keys to my trust fund. He sent me a
