Maybe next time.
When Eden gets home, her phone rings. It’s the number from Doctor Henski’s office.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Eden,” the doctor greets. “Is this a good time?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I just wanted to give you a call and let you know I got your test results back.”
“Wow, that really was fast.”
“I know, right? I get the feeling that the technicians at the lab like me.”
“How does everything look?”
“All results came back negative,” the doctor informs. “You’re good to go.”
Eden breathes a sigh of relief. She sort of knew she would be, but the confirmation is an extra weight off her shoulders. “Thanks, doc.”
“Have yourself a good day.”
“Yeah, you too.”
When Eden hangs up, she feels instantly lighter.
* * *
She wakes up the next morning practically buzzing with excitement.
It’s Tuesday!
Eden can’t remember the last time she was this excited to go out on a date. Anofficialdate. Inviting Alexander to trivia night didn’t count because the rest of the gang was there, their trip to the knife shop was out of necessity, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to categorize all the times Alexander has literally cooked her lunch before work. Surely he’d done that out of a professional concern.
So, yes. In her books, today is an official date, and she can hardly wait to get started.
She has to keep herself from skipping on her way out the building. It becomes a next to impossible task when she sees Alexander’s car already pulled up to the curb, the man patiently leaning against the side of his vehicle.
He looks delicious. Alexander’s clothes are darkly colored from his jeans to the conforming sweater he has on. There’s an ease to him, one that she rarely gets to see when they’re both in the kitchen. He breaks out into a charming, slightly crooked smile the second he lays eyes on her.
It makes her melt a little.
“Hey,” she greets, for some reason feeling a million times shyer. She chalks it up to nerves.
“Hey yourself,” he replies, dipping down to kiss her. He says it so sweet that Eden can’t help but blush. “You look beautiful.”
Eden catches a glimpse of herself in the passenger-side window. She would have looked utterly darling in the dress she saw the other day, but settled for a pair of comfortable white skinny jeans, her favorite white blouse with the frilliest of hems, and her cleanest pair of Nike sneakers.
She’s comfortable. She feelsgood.In the end, she supposes that’s all that really matters.
And if Alexander thinks she’s beautiful, that just makes everything so much better.
She places her hands on his jacket and tugs at the fabric lightly. “Grey, huh? Truly a daring step into the world of fashion. Someone better call Anna Wintour.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Anna Wintour?” she repeats. “The editor-in-chief of Vogue? The lady who everyone’s pretty sure is the inspiration for Miranda Priestly inThe Devil Wears Prada?”
