I’m doing it.
“Let’s go home and get started. You’re making dinner.” I beam, and Liz hugs me before tugging me toward the door.
By the time we lock up, I’m vibrating, hands trembling around the key the realtor pressed into my palm.
That nightI’m curled up on the couch in leggings, laptop balanced on my knees, scrolling flooring options when my phone buzzes.
Leo.
I answer, excitement cracking my voice. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hey, baby sis.” He sounds tired but warm, gym noise fading. “How’s Manhattan treating you today?”
“Pretty good,” I say, and the satisfaction spreads across my face before I can stop it. “I, uh…I signed the lease. On that space I told you about.”
There’s a beat of silence, then a slow exhale, letting the news settle. “You did?”
“Yeah. It’s real now.”
“Eden.” The warmth comes through the line. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
Unexpected emotion stings my throat. “Thanks. It’s scary, but…I’m ready.”
“You are. You’ve been ready.”
“The timing helps,” I say, nerves and pride tangled. “The Defenders deal is kicking up buzz. Athletes want someone who speaks their language. Word travels fast in sports med.”
“I bet. Once you’re open, my guys will line up. After the tune-ups you gave them, they swear by you. You still calling it the Carver Method?”
My throat goes tight. “Yeah. The Carver Method.” I can’t stop smiling. “And yes, keep sending them my way. That means a lot, Leo.”
“Always.” His tone shifts practical, big-brother-meets-manager. “Just…protect the brand. People talk. Optics matter when you’re building something from scratch.”
My throat tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “I know. I’m careful.”
“I’m not saying don’t take the big opportunities. I want you to. But keep your name clean while you do it.”
“I will.”
He lets that sit, then brightens. “Listen, Janice Russo called yesterday. She’s inviting everyone out to Fire Island for Christmas. Ryan’s family will be at Dmitri Sokolov’s place a few houses down, so there’s room for everyone. Be good to hang out.”
My stomach does a small, traitorous flip. “Oh.”
“She said she got me both a big boxing bag and a speed bag, and there’s space to hang them in the gym. She knows I’ll need to train. And she promised clean food for me and Nate.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Mama Russo,” I say, twisting the hoodie drawstring around my finger.
“So you’re coming, right?”
“I don’t know.” The hesitation coils tight. “Melissa’s clinic is closed, and I want to keep momentum—set up accounting, get marketing going, find an attorney. If I wait till January, I’ll lose steam.”
He whistles low. “That sounds like a lot.” A beat, then, “I can ask Jessica O’Reilly; she’s sharp, knows everyone in PR. She’ll have a rec for you.”
Relief loosens my shoulders. “That would be amazing.”
“And for the money side…talk to Antonio Russo,” he adds, easy and casual, though we both know he’s dangling bait. “He’s done books for half the families out there. I’m sure he’d sit down with you.”
My pulse flickers. “I’ll think about it,” I say lightly.
