Page 6

EDEN

Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself. It’s a beautiful thing…

M y fingers traced over the words on the plain piece of paper tucked under the silly statue Noah gave Zoe this summer after we all went to an art festival. Out of the rain, tucked under the awning by the front door. A constant reminder of the good things in life. The friends that were family, the life I made despite the moments of darkness that threatened to invade my mind. I almost passed it by, but then a tingle at the base of my neck hit me, and I glanced down and saw it.

Just a simple piece of paper.

Nothing like walking out your front door day and finding another handwritten note.

Something about this one felt different. Up and down the street, the same people and places I saw every morning, every night when I came home. But there was something in the air. Almost comforting and not at all like the anxiety that usually raced up my spine when I thought I was being watched.

Fine. Knew. I unfolded it, read it a few times. Was the handwriting different? Were the words more comfort than warning? My hand shook as I reread it, over and over. Calmness like a warm blanket settled over me.

Then it shattered.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Don’t be late, Eden.

A trickle of sweat traced its way down my spine. Uneasiness grew in my belly as my fingers swiped the message, the screen reflecting the morning sun. But, then I remembered the other note I found this morning. Still steadfast between my fingertips and a sense of calm belied the earlier feeling that threatened to drown me. Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

If I ignored it, it doesn’t exist. And if it doesn’t exist, then I can breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The familiar mantra I’d repeated to myself whenever the darkness threatened didn’t keep the threat away, but it gave me a sense of control over something. Enough that I could keep going, and not let the panic paralyze me.

Rain threw my usual walk to work routine, I parked and ran into the cafe to get my morning pick me up because as much as this girl loved her coffee, my pink happiness drink of choice had been on my mind even before the craziness brought on by this morning’s messages.

I waved at Trina, the barista/drink maven, then scanned the menu, full well knowing I wouldn’t stray from my usual order. But, I liked to pretend I wasn’t so predictable every now and then. The person in front of me ordered just as my phone vibrated.

MOM: Dinner week after next work for you sweetheart?

My stomach sank, not because I didn’t want to see my mom and Randall or even Izzy, but because I would have to put on a smile and pretend I hadn’t wanted to spend the weekend watching really bad movies with Noah and Zoe before the hockey season kicked in. Pre-season was bad enough, but once the puck dropped, Noah would blow up our phones more than our movie nights. Nothing made me laugh more than watching the goalie squealing like a little girl at Freddy or singing along to the Descendants while we ate pizza and gorged on Junior Mints. Even if Zoe sang so off key I swore dogs in our neighborhood were even ashamed to hear her.

Family dinner meant Mom casting worried glances my way even though I hadn’t had what she called episodes for years. At least, not in her presence. I wished she understood that they weren’t dark in the way that meant I would harm myself. That I liked the night sky and all its secrets. That sometimes being sad meant I felt more alive, or that it was ok to not want the shiny things or the fairy tale.

At least my step sister loved watching scary movies with me or going to haunted house tours even when it wasn’t Halloween .

I stepped up to the counter, about to type out a response, when Trina slid my drink across the counter.

“Already taken care of.”

“That’s the second time this week. At least let me pay for the person behind me and keep it going.”

She shook her head, the cute chin length blonde wisps flying about. “Someone felt extra generous, and this whole hour is covered. But,” she leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m pretty sure you’ll do something to pay it forward, Eden. Take the gift, and enjoy the day. Barista’s order.”

I thanked her, and left a ten in the tip jar before snatching a straw. The sweet and sour hit my tongue, and I felt all the silly worries from the morning run and hide. Maybe this stalker thing wasn’t a big deal. Ignore and forget.

Yep. Sounded perfect.

“We have a situation,” Nia sighed as I entered Book Boyfriends and Lattes, sipping coffee while seated on the counter, legs crossed, and looking way too adorable for a newly single mom of two little girls.

Dread filled me, imagining every worst case scenario. The store next door rented, or Delena Bennett canceling or the hot hockey players Noah had been tasked to convince to join our Book Boyfriend Auction all turned him down.

Or the art we ordered was too NSFW to get printed.

“One of the authors evidently has been sliding into DMs and exhibiting mean girl energy.” She slid off the counter. “And I have screenshots of not one but three chats with different authors accusing other authors of stealing her ideas or making fun of-”

I held up a hand. “Say no more. Mean Girls not admitted. ”

Nia shook her head. “At least it’s an easy choice. She wasn’t even on my wish list, but someone thought her books were cute and sent me her info.” She shuddered. “The little rodent thing made me throw up in my mouth. Unless we’re talking daddy you know who, that nickname is reserved. Bad nicknames and a mean girl in chats? Nope.”

I bit my lip. “What if we have that MM author come? The one with the really cute book boxes?” I added hopefully. “He’s a sweetheart. And I bet he’d bring the model from-”

“Yes. Do it. Ask.”

Maybe organizing these things wasn’t what I originally wanted to do, but it had quickly become something I wanted to keep on doing. And coordinating with the Triumph between the Haunted House fundraiser and the Book Boyfriend auction meant more doors being opened. More event planning. But, it wasn’t all I wanted to do.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anymore. I loved planning the signing for Book Boyfriends, but I also loved designing the room at the haunted house fundraiser. I also loved just doing nothing some days.

Fuck. Maybe this stalker thing was getting to me more than I thought.

Nia touched my shoulder and I tried not to jump. I blinked. “Sorry, got lost in my thoughts. How are the girls doing?”

She set down her cup and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nice deflection, Eden.”She wagged her french tipped fingers at me. “Mom's intuition. Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth and shut it. I wasn’t okay. I knew it, and Nia knew it, even if she didn’t know why. I settled on a half truth. “My mom texted about dinner next week, and I kind of wanted to spend the last weekend before the season started doing silly things with Noah and Zoe. Telling my mom no is not an option, because she keeps hinting about some big news.” I rolled my eyes, recalling our last phone conversation about how things were coming together for our ‘family’ at last. Thank God for sugary sweet drinks that made your day better. “And I have a feeling Zoe is hiding something from me other than the whole Brett thing, but I don’t want to pressure her. Then this author thing,” I waved my free hand and set down my drink with the other. “I hate mean girl vibes.”

“First, do dinner. Your mom misses you. Because ‘mom intuition’. Second, Noah will still be around for you and Zoe to torture on movie nights. Have you asked Zoe point blank?”

“Yep, and she changed the subject, which is so unlike her!”

She shrugged. “Ask again. She might be working through her feelings. Do you remember how long it took me to admit how freaked out I was once I realized I was going to be a single parent? And not to mention how I still hover over the girls because their dad is an asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and decided the nanny was an acceptable place instead, and didn’t notice his daughter almost fucking drowning?” The smile on her face didn’t quite reach her brown eyes. “She might be processing whatever. Try again. And there are mean girls all over the damn place but we do not have to let them in our space. Fuck that. See? All good.”

A smile teased at my lips, because if there was one thing I learned about Nia was that she loved checking things off a list almost more than finding a morally gray book boyfriend or making cookies with her girls. “Fine.”

“And that’s it? ”

“What? That’s not enough?” I let out a laugh, and hoped she’d drop the subject. Not that I didn’t appreciate her and the insight she was trying to inject, but the whole don’t-think-about-it and it-won’t-exist-it-goes-away-if-you-think-about-it. “Wait! You are still coming to the haunted house after the girls hit up the kiddo area, right?”

“You bet your sweet ass she is.”

“Indie,” Nia moaned.

“What? Eden has a great ass. I’m jelly and happy for her at the same time. And I picked up your costume.” She handed over a bag with white feathers peeking out of it to Nia, then turned to me. “Asshole will not be picking up the girls, so there is zero chance of no fun being had, and I have handcuffs if need be. You have two weeks to get used to the idea. And make a waxing appointment.”

“Handcuffs? And what the hell is this supposed to be?” she asked, pulling out a skimpy white and gold ball of fabric.

“I’m going to handcuff you to the first hot creepily dressed dude I see if you try to leave after Aunt Carla picks up the girls from the kiddo friendly section. And that’s your costume, silly. And wax.”

“There will be no waxing.” She held it up again. “Where’s the rest of it?”

Indie placed her hands on her hips. “You will want a smooth kitty, trust me. There’s wings.”

“Indra, I swear.”

The two cousins locked in a stare off. I sipped my drink, grateful to be out of the hot seat and wishing I had popcorn. Or Junior Mints.

“Swear that your kitty is lonely and in need of a little Vitamin D?’

“Indie!! ”

Indra threw her hands up, looking far too cute in her cropped top and athleisure pants. Yep, my ass was definitely bigger and couldn’t pull that look off. Or…maybe I could…I made a mental note to do a little online shopping later.

“When was the divorce final?”

Nia glared at her. “Last week.”

I nearly spit out my drink. It had only been six months since the incident. “Wow, that’s fast.”

“Good thing I listened to my mom and never put his name on anything but the house. And even then, fucking the nanny and almost letting your child drown looks pretty bad in a divorce case.”

“And when was the last time you got laid.” This time, Indie looked back and forth between the two of us.

I put my hand up. “Woah, there, tiger, don’t bring me into this battle. I’m very content with my book boyfriends and anything I order online. And handcuffing her to a hot hockey player might not be the best scenario.” The last one elicited a snort from the younger woman. “Even if it’s pre-season, they get kinda aggressive. Plus masks. How will you know if he’s hot?”

“Because I helped you figure out which buzzing boyfriend was the best model based on personal experience, and sent you,” she whipped her head toward Nia, “your very own buzzing boyfriend without all the complications.”

“And I don’t need anymore.”

“A good deep dicking and a screaming ‘O’ is not a complication, Nia. I said get laid, not find a new husband for fuck’s sake!”

“INDIE!”

“The doors aren’t open yet.”

A voice from down one of the cubbies where monster romance laid claim said, “I don’t think you locked the door after yourself, dear. And I say get laid and wear the sexy costume.” A silver haired lady and her companion came out from behind the bookshelves holding a stack of books. “And do you have the new Delena Bennett book? She’s my favorite!”