“How much older?” I ask before I can stop myself, and then regret it when his dark, assessing gaze lands on me. “You’re what?” he asks. “Thirty?” “Yeah,” I say. “Same as me,” Arietta squeals, giving me a high five across the table. “I’m thirty-seven,” Canon offers. “Same as me.” Evan imitates Arietta’s squeal and goes for a high five, which Canon deflects with an eye roll.
