She giggles and I nod.
“After you took Michelle’s class, she had me out to her office. Said she thought you were really smart and that with some guidance, you could do great things.” I shake my head. “Now that I’m saying it out loud, I wonder if part of me wanted to forget the offer. Wanted to put as much distance between Michelle and you as I possibly could.” I meet her eyes, and there’s no hiding how I’m feeling when I say this. I feel the emotion like a physical pain in my chest. “Her receptionist is pregnant. She’s actually married to my chief’s son.” I grin, but then the seriousness of what I have to say comes back to haunt my words. “Michelle wanted to know if you wanted the job. You can work either part time or full time covering for the receptionist while she’s out on maternity leave. It’s a paid job, of course, and you can try doing what she does for a few months before you spend the money committing to college and a degree in some financial shit.”
The look on Eden’s face transforms from playful to stone serious.
Before I can say anything, my phone rings. The caller ID shows it’s Michelle. “You mind if I talk to her?” I ask.
She nods, and I click to connect the call.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” Her voice is loud and bright. I notch down the volume a bit so she doesn’t wake Juniper. “I’m good. Is Eden with you?”
I nod at her, and Eden greets her. “Um, yes. Hi, Michelle.”
“Hey.” She laughs. “You know I gave you my number in class that day, and then I spoke to Vito about the job. When I didn’t hear from either of you for a month, I figured that was your way of telling the ex to go fuck herself and mind her own business.”
I immediately set the record straight. “Michelle, this was all me. You know my memory and how I get when I’m working.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I do know, and I wouldn’t blame either one of you if you weren’t interested in anything that had to do with me.”
Eden is leaning forward, looking really conflicted.
“So, no pressure, but I just saw your text. My receptionist is officially going on leave in two weeks. Unless she goes into labor sooner. She’s a little flexible on her date, but she wants some time to fix up the nursery a bit more before the baby comes. If Eden is interested, we can try to get her in as soon as possible to do some training with Gennie. I’ll handle the rest once Gennie’s off.”
“Here,” I say, picking up my phone and taking it off speaker. “Michelle, I’m going to give my phone to Eden. Let you two talk. I literally just mentioned this two minutes ago, so she may have questions.”
I offer the phone to Eden, and she takes it. Then she stands and paces through the living room while she talks.
I get up and wander back to the bathroom, wasting time while they talk.
After a couple of minutes, I head back to the living room. Eden is sitting on the couch, looking down at my phone in her hands.
“You good? All done?” I ask.
She nods, so I come join her on the couch. “You didn’t have to leave,” she says.
I hold up my hand. “This is between you two now. I was just the messenger.”
Eden sets the phone on the coffee table and gives me a confused look. “I don’t know what to think,” she admits. “It’s weird, right? Your ex-wife offering me a job?”
“I’m sure Michelle is excited to meet someone who has an interest in what she does. It would only be weird if you…” I have to stop myself from saying the words.
“If I what?” she presses.
Ah, fuck. I can’t get away with not saying it now. I’ve gone this far. I drag a hand through my hair and tug it at the roots. “I don’t want to lose you, Eden. I don’t want you to go to work for Michelle and then realize that I’m not good enough for you.” I look her in the eye. “I’ve been through that once, and babe, I don’t want to be your rebound guy. I don’t want to be the guy you lean on until you find something better.”
Eden’s face sets into a mask of pure anger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.
“Something better? You think I would ever find someone better than you?” She stands up and paces the living room, pointing an angry finger at me. “All this time, I’ve been feeling like a second-class citizen, worried that you’re going to get sick of me. I don’t have a family and a thousand siblings. I don’t cook like your father does or want to stay home and raise kids like your mom did. When are you going to realize how damaged I am and just leave me?”
She’s breathing hard, her face is flushed bright red, but I can tell there’s sadness right under the surface of the pain.
I stand and cross the living room, taking her in my arms. “I feel like we need to talk. Really talk,” I say. I lead her back to the couch, and we sit together, our hands locked. “I don’t care if you can’t cook. My brother owns a restaurant, and my parents always have way too much food around.” I lift her hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “What I love about you is that you’re real. You’re flawed. I am too. You know that. I’d rather wear pajamas than pants. You don’t expect me to be anything but what I am. You accept my work schedule, my sleep schedule. What I’m afraid of is that changing.”
She squeezes my hands tight. “We’re both going to change over time, at least somewhat,” she says. “I’m a single mom. I come from a really messed-up family. I don’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did. I want to be a different person in five years and maybe even an even more different person five years from that. I want more in life.”
Something in my chest breaks open when her voice trembles.
