Page 88 of Goode Tidings

"Not at all." She shakes her head like the question is preposterous. "He's like a toddler who leaves a toy behind but doesn't want anybody else to play with it."

"He cares for you, though."

"Only as much as Justin can care about someone who isn't Oliver. And even Oliver hasn't escaped Justin's extreme selfishness. If I were pettier, I'd take a very couple-y picture of us and send it to him."

"His brain would explode. But first he'd kick me out of the cabin." Shit. The cabin. I forgot I don't have a place to sleep. Eden had called me Superman, and it was game over.

"Is it snowing?" I peer sideways, but there's no way to see through the kitchen window. It's dark outside and light inside.

"I'm not sure." Eden pulls my gaze back to her. "What's wrong?"

"I need to get a hotel room. I can't stay in the office, and I knew that, but then you called me Superman and my brain cells began shooting confetti cannons."

Her lips press together as she smiles. "You're way nerdier than I thought when I first met you." She leans in, placing a chaste kiss on my mouth. "And so talented with your hands."

I bounce my eyebrows.

"You can sleep here. It is your house, after all."

"I'll take the couch," I tell her. She opens her mouth like she's going to argue with me, but then she says, "Ok. Can you pour a glass of wine for me? Now that my haircutting job is complete." She fusses with my hair. "I did a good job."

"You did," I agree. I looked in the mirror after I showered. She did a great job.

"I want to check my email. That candle company was supposed to email today about the job."

"And you're just now remembering to check? It's almost nine."

She slants her eyes at me. "Are you suggesting something?"

I slant my eyes back at her. "You're not excited about this job."

"I might not have this job. Beggars can't be choosers."

I step back, retrieving the glasses we used at dinner earlier. Eden hops off the counter and goes to the living room for her laptop. I'm pouring the second glass when I hear her gasp. She hurries in, open computer in her hands.

"Did you get the job?" Her reaction doesn't match her previous excitement level (which is to say, none), but what else could it be?

Eden holds the computer like a serving platter, making it so I can't see her face, and reads.

"Dear Eden,

I recently learned of a professional deception. Charles Burkhardt is not the owner of the design chosen by Becca and Michael for their collab with Blossom. Unless you tell me otherwise, I believe it was you who designed that surface pattern. Charles' employment has been terminated. I would love to have you back on board at Blossom, serving in the role of senior surface pattern designer. Please call me anytime to discuss this matter further. My apologies, Eden.

Best, Angelique."

She slowly lowers the laptop until I can see her face again. "Blossom wants me back. And they're offering a promotion." She blinks slowly as the new development sinks in.

"Come on," I say, leading her back to the living room to get comfortable. She puts the laptop on the coffee table, open with the email still on the screen.

The wineglasses go on either side of the computer while we get settled on the couch. I should tell Eden what a good idea the coffee table was. When this was my place, I set whatever I was drinking on the ground beside the couch.

"What's your initial reaction?" I ask, watching Eden tuck her legs into herself before draping a blanket over her body.

"Shock." She glances at the bright laptop screen. "Satisfaction. I wonder how Angelique found out?"

I hope it was dramatic, and Angelique fired the creativity thief in some spectacular fashion. Is that spiteful? I don't care. The guy stole from Eden.

Eden said she's shocked, but she's also not smiling. In fact, she doesn't look remotely joyous. "Are you happy about the opportunity?"