“Hour of honesty, Bernard. What’s the deal?”
“He said he loves me.”
The smile slid from Eden’s face. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you love him?”
Cheryl gave her another look.
“Okay, I’ll ask a different question. What’s to stop you from trying? Aside from the age thing which is only a big deal in your deluded mind. Is it because you’re not from his background?”
“You mean he’s from a big, happy nuclear family and I’m an affair bastard with no money and a dying mother?”
Eden didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“So, what are the other reasons?”
Cheryl looked out into the street. No matter how much Eden grilled her, she would not, under pain of death, talk about Pastizzis.
“Bernie?”
She sighed. “Fine. He is too young for me. But it’s not just that. He’s… green. He has great intentions, but he doesn’t think things through.”
“Like what?”
“University. Life. He’s the baby of his family and everyone runs around looking after him, including me. It doesn’t drive me crazy because we’re friends, but if we were a couple… it just wouldn’t work. At least not long term, and he only wants things to be long term.”
Eden digested this along with a sip of wine. “You don’t think he can take care of you?”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she said, a little sharper than she intended. “Sorry… it’s just… are we done?”
“Not quite. You know, Willow’s older than me.”
“You were twenty-five when you met him,” Cheryl reminded her. “I was almost thirty and Patrick was…” she had to force the word out. “… nineteen.”
“He’ll be twenty-four in a few weeks. That’s mid-twenties.”
“Great. Put seven years on that and I’ll date him.”
“Do you actually give a shit that he’s younger than you?”
“Of course, I do! I’ll be thirty-three soon. What are people going to say?”
“I’d pay sick money to watch those two bang?”
Cheryl refused to smile. “Seriously, what are Daily Mail journalists and football trolls and Instagram bitches going to say to me? To him? And since we’re being honest, be really fucking honest.”
Eden grimaced. “Okay, some people might be assholes about the age gap. But you’re the hottest girl in the world, Bernie. Dudes pull over on the street to ask you out.”
“Once! Years ago!”
“So? No one keeps it tighter than you. Whenever we take a photo, I look like shit next to you.”
“You have a baby daughter, and you stay up all night doing gigs! Anyway, this isn’t some feminist ‘you go girl’ thing. It isn’t about my looks. Patrick had an amazing season with the Sharks and he’s only going to get more famous.”
