Page 33 of Made Better Together

“Nice. Is a permanent job there on the horizon?”

“Yeah, if it goes well.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Her wink shows she’s deliberately mirroring my comment from earlier.

After a beat of silence, awareness dawns on her face. “You’ll be living here in Orlando?”

“Yeah, Milo has a huge office in Los Angeles too, so I might be there sometimes, but mainly I should be here.” He moved to Orlando to live with his boyfriend, a coach for the local MLS team.

“Oh—”

Then the weight between us that had been easing as we chatted returns.

Because yup, Eden just realized we’re going to be living in the same city.

I’m not going to make her ask.

“I’d like to hang out sometime again. You know, other than in a wine cellar or on the Fourth of July.”

Her eyes light up with amusement. “That would be nice.”

“Are you on or off campus this year?”

“On. There’s not exactly a lot of reasons to live off campus in the boonies where Tolliver is. Unlike in Princeton, where there’s so much to do in the little town area.”

“Wait. You’ve been there? Princeton?” When?

“It was one of the schools I visited when I was applying to colleges. One of like ten. The whole process was a blur.”

Huh, what would’ve happened with us if she’d ended up there? “The women’s team won the Ivies the last two years.”

“Yeah, they’re incredible. Ultimately, Tolliver gave me a better chance at an NCAA title. Plus the whole close-to-Dad aspect.”

“Makes sense. But how did this not come up before?” It was a Princeton Soccer T-shirt I’d given her two years ago, after all.

A smile creeps back up on her face. “We’ve only had one and a half real conversations, right? I don’t think it’s been top of mind during those particular moments.”

I huff out a laugh. “Fair.”

Half my brain is now occupied by memories of the most recent moment last July, but the revelation about Princeton tugs at the other half. Don’t let her get away yet again.

What if she’s dating someone, though? We’ve been such shitty correspondents. You can’t tell crap from Instagram posts, even though she was apparently single during spring break three months ago.

To hell with it, I’m asking. “Are you with anyone right now? Like serious?” Blunt, but whatever.

Her smile broadens. “No boyfriends are being juggled.”

Thank fuck. “What are you⁠—”

My phone pings and I look at the text.

RAWLEY: Grace is looking for you. They’re cutting the cake in a few minutes.

I stand back up and look at her with undisguised disappointment. “Shit, I better get back out there.”

She takes a small swig of the wine and sets the bottle down on a shelf. “No worries. But maybe⁠—”

My phone buzzes again, and a quick look at the notification screen shows it’s Landon bugging me to come back too.