“Eden! Get your butt out here! I’ve cooked you breakfast! Don’t you dare let it go cold!” God, she sounds just like Mom when she yells like that.
I sit up and pull my disastrous morning hair back into a ponytail. “No, thanks! I’m good. Not really hungry.”
Within three seconds my bedroom door slams open, and my sister gives me a look of concern. “What’s going on? Are you sick? You’re never not hungry. One of the reasons I resent you is that you eat like a horse but look like you should be strutting the catwalks of Milan. It’s unfair and annoying.”
“I’ve told you before, the only reason I’m not three-hundred pounds is because I work my ass off at the gym. My body processes calories the same way yours does.”
“Bullshit. My hips and thighs have a vendetta against me and are determined I’ll never find jeans that truly fit.”
Since we were teenagers, I’ve coveted her curves, and she’s longed for my lack of them. We all want what we don’t have, I guess.
“Eden,” she says, and I know she’s serious, because she puts her dainty hands on her Shakira hips, “unless you’re dying, get out here right now and eat. I cooked the bacon in maple syrup, just how you like it. I even made freshly squeezed orange juice. I can’t have a glorious Martha Stewart moment unless you come and praise me for my efforts.”
I throw up my hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. I guess I should be grateful you’re doing the work for once. If this is what I can expect every time you get laid, I hope it happens more often.”
She looks at the floor. “Just come eat, please. We need to talk.”
After she walks away, I flop back onto the bed and rub my eyes.
Okay, don’t be a douche. Get out there and listen to your sister gush about sex with the only guy you’ve ever thought may be worthy of snuggling after sex. You can do this. She deserves it.
I swing out of bed and pad out into the kitchen. As usual when Asha cooks, she seems to have used every plate and frying pan we own, and they’re now piled high in the sink. Still, what she’s set out for me looks delicious.
I sit at the breakfast bar and munch on a piece of crispy maple-bacon.
God, yes. Get in me, smoky deliciousness.
“So,” I say, before taking a sip of juice. “You seem to be in a good mood. Care to tell me all about the sexy times with your Irish dreamboat?”
She scoops some scrambled egg into her mouth and gives me a closed-mouth smile, then shakes her head.
“What?” I say. “You’re not going to tell me? That hurts, Ash. We tell each other everything.” Secretly, I’m relieved, but it would be weird if I didn’t pretend otherwise.
She swallows and shakes her head again. “No, sorry. I meant, he’s not my Irish dreamboat. Nothing happened.”
A piece of bacon drops off my fork as I process that. She didn’t screw him? I hate how happy that makes me. “Really? You two looked pretty cozy when I left. What was the problem?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. I just wasn’t feeling it.”
“Asha.” I fix her with my serious face. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen you turn your flirt up to eleven like you did with Kieran.” I put down my fork and lean forward. “Wait, did he do something to you? Hurt you? Drunkenly grope you? Because if so, I don’t care how damn attractive he is, I’ll kick his ass all over Brooklyn, and then I’ll –”
“Edie, stop.” She laughs and grabs some toast. “Kieran was a perfect gentleman. As was Pat. They were nice guys. At the end of the night I just realized Kieran and I didn’t have any chemistry. It’s not the end of the world. It happens all the time.”
“Really? That’s it? Did you at least kiss him to come to this conclusion?” I bet he’s an amazing kisser. Those lips were made for it.
“Nope, no kissing. The more we spoke, the more I realized he wasn’t the guy for me. End of story.”
“I see.” I look around at the carnage in our kitchen. “Then why the cooking and humming? You’re way too happy for a girl who had zero orgasms last night.”
“Just because I didn’t bring a guy back here, doesn’t mean I didn’t have fun times by myself.”
I laugh then get up and start making a fresh pot of coffee. “Well, good for you, I guess. But I’m sorry things didn’t work out. You and Kieran would have made a cute couple.” Though it would have been tough watching them together, I wasn’t lying.
“So, anyway,” Asha says as she adds her empty plate to the Jenga tower of filth in the sink, “we should go out tonight. Just you and me.”
“Okay. Where? And also, why?”
“Because I feel like we haven’t had any quality time alone recently. You’ve had a lot on your plate with the whole Mister Romance thing, and I have crappy editorial assignments I’d like to vent about. Let’s do Verdi’s at eight. We’ll eat, get a bottle of wine ... it’ll be nice.”
“Verdi’s is kind of fancy. We can’t have quality sister time at a burger bar?”
“No, so don’t even think of showing up in jeans and a leather jacket. I’ve left that cute little blue dress you like on my bed. Wear it, please.” I make a noise in protest. “And if that groan is because you think you’ll also have to do your hair and makeup, then you’re right. A little effort is all I ask. Promise me.”
I roll my eyes. “God, you’re so demanding. I’m sure we could bond just as easily in our pajamas on the couch with a quart of ice cream, but whatever. We’ll do it your way tonight, but next time I get to choose.”
“Deal.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll be coming straight from work, so I’ll meet you there. Have a good day.”
I gesture to the mess around me. “You’re just going to stiff me with all of this?”
“Sure am. Oh, and Nannabeth called earlier. She said if you don’t stop blocking her calls, she’ll be leaving embarrassing messages for you at work. Byeeeee!”
With that, she grabs her purse and heads out the door, leaving me alone with a stovetop completely caked in maple syrup and bacon grease.
Great. A disaster-zone of a kitchen to clean and a Nannabeth call? Thank God it’s Friday.
I throw down the rest of my breakfast and get to work cleaning up. Nannabeth will have to wait.
Scrubbing the stove takes longer than expected, and by the time I’m done I’m running late for my meeting with Derek
Lucky for me, he’s the patient, forgiving type who won’t tear me a new one for being tardy.
Yeah, right.
*
I’m juggling three coffees and have barely made it through the door, when Derek spots me from where he’s giving the advertising department a ‘pep’ talk.
“Tate! Where the fuck have you been?!”
I hold up the Starbuck’s tray and smile. “Stopped on the way here to get your fave, boss, but the line was insane.”
He eyes the cups suspiciously then gestures to his office. “Get your ass in there. I’ll be done in a minute.”