Eden sat beside him at the kitchen counter. “Don’t take it personally. Bernie’s a mystery to everyone but herself. Maybe even herself.”
“Right.” He sipped some lukewarm coffee, unsure he wanted to have this conversation. From the way Eden was talking, he was just another in the long line of guys who tried and failed to keep Cheryl interested. And seeing as it had already been the worst day of his life, he’d rather not hear it.
“So, you and Bernie slept together,” Eden said. “Finally.”
He glanced up. “Finally?”
“You guys have been into each other for ages, haven’t you?”
Hope bubbled inside him again. “I mean, I see it that way. Do you… Do you think me and Cheryl have a shot?”
She took a long drink of wine. “Do you want reassurance or advice?”
Patrick had a sudden feeling of déjà vu. “Did you and Willow…?”
“We did couples therapy after Jupiter was born. We were having some communication issues, and it was amazing. Totally recommend.” She gave him a small smile. “Not that you’d ever get Cheryl into a psychologist’s office.”
“You know I’m studying psychology, right?”
“That’s why you’re so into her. The challenge.” Eden took another long swallow of wine. “I’m not gonna lie, I want you guys to work things out. But Cheryl doesn’t want to be happy, and I don’t know if she wants to be loved. At least not the way you love her.”
His stomach dropped. “How… What do you mean?”
“She keeps everything sectioned off; friends, guys she fucks, the people she works with. Her mum. Big walls between everyone. That’s why you guys stayed close all these years. Because she didn’t have to admit you were someone she wanted to bang.”
“Hang on!” Patrick said hotly. “She can admit it. She came to the Sharks’ gym yesterday and pretty much begged me to…” He caught Eden’s smirk and stopped talking.
“I have no doubt Cheryl’s, ah, enjoying that new aspect of your relationship. But she always wanted to fuck you. She just squashed it down.”
It was a relief to hear Eden confirm this hadn’t all been in his head. But everything still made no sense.
“Why is this so fucking difficult?” he asked. “Cheryl and I already like each other, we’re already close, now you’re saying she wants me like I want her. Doesn’t that add up to us being together?”
“Not if you’re Cheryl.”
“But why?”
She shifted in her chair back and forth, and back and forth, and seemed to make up her mind. “I don’t want to hurt Bernie, but I think you deserve to know. Just promise this stays between us. Cone of silence and all that.”
He mimed a dome coming down over both of their heads. She smiled, then her eyes slid sideways. “You know how Cheryl and I call each other by our dads’ names?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s because we hated them.” She said it simply, as though hating your dad was the most natural thing in the world. Patrick thought of his dad, the kind, quiet man who’d taken him swimming on the weekends.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Anyway, me and Cheryl met in youth orchestra. We were too young to change our last names, so we decided if we had to have one, we could have both. I became George and she was Bernie. I think it was our way of trying to take back control. Make them belong to us instead of the other way around.” Eden stared at him with her clear green eyes. “My dad’s shit, but he’s shit in a normal way. He doesn’t listen, and he doesn’t give a fuck about me because I’m a girl. But Bernie’s dad… He’s up there with the worst.”
Patrick’s heart stopped cold in his chest. “Did he—?”
“He’s never hurt her. He couldn’t. They’ve never met.”
Somewhere in another part of the house, Patrick could hear Willow singing to Jupiter in the bath. He stared at Eden. “Cheryl’s never met her dad?”
“Never. He’s this big deal Greek gazillionaire. He came to Melbourne to oversee some building projects and had an affair with Cheryl’s mum. She was his temporary assistant and she was nineteen.”
“Shit.”
