I cut my sandwich into fours, and pass a square to Marshall. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s a grilled cheese tradition around here.”
“Lucky guy.” She takes a small bite of her sandwich, chews, and swallows. “Yum,” she says.
I notice that for the second time, she glances at my phone charging on the counter as though she’s bracing for it to come to life.
“What time do you have to be up for work?” she asks. “And, what’s work for you?”
“This guy usually gets me up around seven,” I say, nodding to Marshall, who’s still worshiping at the throne of Sloane. “But hopefully he’ll let me sleep in a little. I work over at the Marine Research Center.”
“Cool,” she says, her expression brightening. “What do you do there?”
“Depends on the day,” I say. “I’m in charge of the local wildlife. Any injuries that wash up on shore, get tangled in nets, that kind of thing. Preventative stuff, like keeping any invasive species at bay.”
“That sounds really fun,” she says.
There’s something thick and unspoken in the air between us, a silent acknowledgment that I’d been performing my duties yesterday, too.
“How about you?” I ask. “What do you do for work?”
“I’m an actuary,” she says. “So, almost as much fun as rescuing dolphins.”
I have to laugh. “Not many dolphins around here,” I say.
“After my mother passed, I wanted to find a job I was certain would be stable, and financially lucrative. I’ve always been good at math.” She shrugs.
“And if stability and money hadn’t been a priority?”
Sloane chuckles lightly. “Isn’t that the dream?” She pauses for a moment. “I always loved drawing and painting. Art was my favorite subject in high school. I had a borderline obsession with the Impressionists.”
For the first time all night, she looks animated.
“And then math got the best of you.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“What about your…” I pause. Is he still a fiancé? Already an ex?
“Jack’s a medical doctor,” she said. She takes another small bite of her sandwich. “Dr. Fordham. The pride and joy of the Fordham family.” She smiles wryly and shakes her head. “Comes from a long line of doctors. Guess what our hypothetical child was going to do as a career?”
I raise an eyebrow, and I’m about to speak, but Sloane isn’t done.
“The wedding was just as prescribed. At least I got to pick my own dress. But everything else—the guest list. The location. The music. Even the cake flavor. Jack’s mother, Vivienne, liked to pretend to ask for my input, but I’m pretty sure the deposits were all put down the moment Jack asked her for this.” She flashes her diamond ring at me, then slides it off her finger and sets it beside her plate. The diamond catches the light from the stove and looks more like evidence than jewelry. “Not to sound ungrateful, but it’s not what I would have chosen for myself either.”
Yikes. I’m no therapist, but it seems like Sloane narrowly escaped a seriously controlling family. “That sounds pretty terrible,” I say.
Her expression softens. “It wasn’t all bad. Jack is actually a good man. But he’s no match for Vivienne. I tried pointing it out a few times, but I don’t even think he saw it.”
“Hard to, I guess, when it’s all you know.”
“I guess,” she says, then yawns. “Sorry.”
I’m aware that our plates have been empty for longer than usual for a midnight snack. “Seems like it’s dying down a bit outside,” I say. The downpour has lightened to a steady shower. “I hope you can get some sleep.”
“You too,” she says. “Thanks for the sandwich. The outside was the perfect amount of toasted.” She pauses. “It might be the best grilled cheese I’ve had in years.”
“That’s a sad commentary on your life.”
Sloane smiles. A real smile this time.
