I narrow my eyes at her and do something I promised I’d never do if I ever saw Eden again. “Do I have the right to judge the ‘lack of relationship’ you had with me?”
For a moment, Eden’s face softens and her eyes glisten. But then she blinks those eyes framed with thick, dark lashes causing the green in her eyes to radiate brightly, and her features harden. “I think the only thing you’re capable of doing is judging, Coop. At least that’s the way I remember it. So by all means…let’s hear what you have to say about our ‘lack of a relationship.’?”
And yeah, she uses air quotes around those last words.
Taking a deep breath, I try to seek some perspective here. I don’t know why she’s got me riled up so quickly, or how she’s even got me riled up at all. Over the years, I’ve turned into a man who’s bothered by little.
So I need to show her that is who she’s dealing with.
With a nonchalant shrug, I tell her, “Nah…it’s really not worth the time. It was so long ago, and in the grand scheme of things, we didn’t really have anything special going on.”
Eden gasps, and I get a sense of validation for just the briefest of moments. Then I take in the disappointed look on her face and I feel like shit.
Brushing it off—because who wants to dwell on crappy feelings?—I turn toward the door and mutter, “Well…hope you get settled in all right.”
I walk over the threshold, grab the knob, and start to pull the door closed behind me, but her soft voice halts me in my tracks.
“Do you think we’d still be together today if Carlos hadn’t approached me in that mall fourteen years ago?”
My head spins, because that is some question indeed. Carlos Sanchez was a modeling scout and agent, and had a talent for picking superstars. He spotted Eden in a local mall as we were walking along and doing some window shopping one weekend in Atlanta. And he started her down a path that led her away from me for good.
Since then, I’ve changed a fuck of a lot, and I don’t know that I can credit all of it to Eden leaving, but I can sure pinpoint my lack of interest in relationships being due to that.
Not really knowing for sure, and figuring lying to her would be pointless, I tell her the only thing I know. “I have no clue, Eden. None at all.”
I shut the door and leave her behind. As I trot down the staircase to the first floor, I pull my phone out of my pocket. When I reach the foyer, I pull up Ashley’s number, intent on seeing if she’s busy tonight. We’ve got our date Saturday night, but damn Eden and her riling ways, I need to work off some frustration.
I stare at it a long, hard moment, and although the word Ashley is prominent on my screen, all I can see is Eden’s face staring back at me. It’s a face I would have been happy to stare at for the rest of my life once upon a time.
“Fuck,” I mutter, and then exit Ashley’s contact. I pull up Clay’s number instead.
He answers on the second ring. “What’s up, dude?”
“I’ll be at Tilley’s in about fifteen minutes,” I tell him as I turn to the foyer table and nab my keys. “Drinks are on me.”
“No can do, muchacho,” Clay says. “Jeannie’s pissed at me because I forgot to put the garbage out by the curb this morning.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” I taunt him as I walk out the door and pull it shut behind me. I automatically lock it, not only to keep people from stealing, but because Eden’s in there now. “Fifteen minutes.”
“But—”
I disconnect the call and hop into my truck to head to Tilley’s. It’s one of three local bars in Newberry, but it’s my favorite by far. It’s where most of my friends hang out, the food is excellent, and they have pretty good bands. Add that they have the best drink specials in town, and well…it’s why I go there.
And after that exchange with Eden, I really need to get drunk.
I’m still completely off balance having seen her. She’s not the same woman I knew all those years ago, but there’s still a lot of her that’s familiar. Just hearing her voice, or looking into her expressive eyes, makes me remember back when we were young and in love, believing nothing would ever get in our way. It was one of the happiest times of my life, especially when we went off to college together.
Clay actually beats me there, but then again he lives in the town limits and could have walked there in five minutes. I take a seat at the bar next to him and he turns on his stool. “When the judge asks me why Jeannie’s divorcing me, I’m going to have to list you as our irreconcilable difference.”
“Jeannie forgives you for everything,” I point out to him after a massive eye roll. They’ve been together since high school. Clay graduated with Eden and me, but Jeannie was two years younger than us.
They’ve survived some major ups and downs, but twelve years of marriage and two kids later, they’re still going strong, no matter how much Clay bitches otherwise.
“So why the need to drink on a Thursday night?” Clay asks as he holds up two fingers to the bartender and calls out, “Jack.”
The bartender nods and within moments we have shots of whiskey in front of us.
“Eden’s in town,” I mutter as I pick up the shot glass and down it. “Staying at Goodnight House.”
“Christ,” Clay mutters, and drinks his shot too. “I’m going to have to be DD tonight, ain’t I?”
I push my glass toward the edge of the bar and it’s quickly filled again. Clay asks for a Pepsi.
“Is it weird staying in the same house with her?” he asks.
“Yup,” I answer, and then grin wickedly at myself in the mirror behind the bar. I down the second shot and chuckle as I slide it back to the edge of the bar. “Let’s just say she was not happy I’m living in the master bedroom. And she had no clue about the life estate Valeria left me, so she was shocked as shit to find me there.”
“How could she not know?” Clay asked in disbelief.
I shrug. “I’m guessing she didn’t even bother to look at the estate documents.”
“Guess not,” Clay mutters. “But otherwise, how is she doing?”
“No clue,” I tell him. “Didn’t stick around to talk to her.”
Clay’s silent for a moment, but I know he’s thinking about what to say to me. He’s been my best friend since middle school and watched my love affair with Eden develop then fail. While I wasn’t overly sharing with him about what it did to me all those years ago, he knows enough to know it’s complicated with her.
But I asked him out for drinks tonight because I also know he’ll give me perspective on how to handle her. I have no clue if she’ll be here two days or two weeks—hopefully the former—but I know Clay will have good advice on how to handle it. He’s always had my back like that.
“You need to fuck her,” he finally says.
“What?” I bark out as I snap my head toward him in astonishment.