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“What kind of businesses?”

“I don’t remember all the details. Something with property, consulting, and online commerce.”

That meant he sold a course.

“He was very successful,” my father said. “Flying in first class.”

“You were in premium economy,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but he came back to use our restroom.”

I covered my face. “Please tell me you didn’t give a stranger my phone number while he was waiting for the bathroom.”

“We had a lovely conversation,” my mother protested. “He asked whether we had children, and we mentioned you.”

“You showed him a picture, didn’t you?”

“It was a flattering one.”

I stood and paced away from the desk. “How old is he?”

My parents went silent.

I stopped beside the kitchen counter. “How old?”

“He’s mature,” my mother said.

“How mature?”

“In his late forties.”

I stared at the worn laminate beneath my palm. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Yes, honey, but you’re an old soul,” Mom said.

“No, I’m just tired.”

“He’s only forty-six, Sloane,” she continued. “And honestly, he’s a real silver fox.”

My father made a sound of agreement.

“Dad, please don’t participate.”

“I’m only saying he has all his hair.”

I closed my eyes again, but there was nowhere inside my mind far enough away from this conversation.

“Did you give him my number or ask if you could give him my number?”

“We told him you were shy,” Mom said.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Dad cleared his throat. “He seemed very respectful.”

“Was he wearing a wedding ring?”

Another silence.