41. Eden
EDEN
TWO WEEKS LATER
“I know, me too!” As much as it will be a bummer to be away from Connor for that long, I’m down for some time to veg and be spoiled by her and the rest of my San Diego family. “I’m sorry I’ll miss Thanksgiving.”
Given we’d talked about that when she was here, she’s nonplussed. “Totally fine. Aunt Celia is hosting, so I’ll be plenty occupied helping her.” Our family events often have thirty people in attendance, so she isn’t kidding.
“What else is new with everyone?”
“Nothing too major, except Sawyer won some big swim meet. Apparently, it’s the most competitive one in Southern California for ages ten and under.”
“Sheesh.” I had no idea everything got that intense so young in swimming, but given my own experience at travel soccer at her age, I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.
“How are you? How’s school?”
“I’m feeling great about everything, to be honest.”
It’s the truth. I’m now coasting in Art History, the class proving to be a fun, easy elective after all. Jake’s notes don’t hurt either. Genetics and Advanced Sociology are theoretically more demanding, but I’m so interested in what we’re studying that they don’t feel difficult.
The fact that Connor doesn’t mind if I tackle homework when I’m with him is helpful as well.
We’ve only been spending one night a week together since Halloween, given all the challenges with his living situation.
But he’s officially moving into his own apartment in three days, so I’m hoping that frequency will increase.
There’ll be times that I’ll need to do schoolwork at his place.
“How’s your capstone project coming along?”
“I’ve finished pulling most of the case studies I want to focus on. My professor loves the topic too.”
“You’re still sticking to the new subject? How EMDR compares to cognitive behavioral therapy in treating childhood trauma?”
“Yes!”
Yep, I’d pivoted to a new focus, driven by an emotional stake in the subject that was a million times deeper than studies of the gut-brain connection.
Connor knows, of course. He was moved when I told him, even offering to read my drafts. He’s had two more sessions with Deb, and reports that the new rounds of EMDR are working well.
“Proud of you. It’s a fascinating topic. Important too.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Particularly important to me, because of one special person in my life.
“You ready to take one for the team?” Bree asks later in the afternoon, as we meet in the common area of our suite.
It’s finally time for the Tolliver fundraising dinner. It feels like forever ago that they first asked me to speak.
“Is the Tolliver athletic scholarship fund considered the ‘team’ in this question?”
“Ha.” She looks me over. “Your dress is cute.”
My outfit is not one she’s seen before, because I’m not exactly drowning in occasions to wear a high-necked A-line dress.
“It felt right. Mom got it for me to wear at a women’s health leadership luncheon I attended with her this summer.”
“You nervous for tonight?”
“No, I’ve got my notes right here.” I raise my purse. “It’s an easy topic too.” The organizers had wanted me to speak about the importance of supporting women’s college sports programs. I can talk for hours without notes on that subject.
I’m more worried about being in proximity to Rori Reilly.
Not because of her fame, as the top American tennis player over the last few years.
I’ve watched a few of her bigger matches, and she has an intimidating aura on TV, but it’s nothing I’m not used to after being surrounded by star soccer players for years.
No, I’m nervous I’ll somehow mess things up if Connor comes up in a conversation. Accidentally reveal our secret. Why would that happen, though? Connor’s not the first subject that I’d expect Rori to raise at a Tolliver fundraiser.
Except, when we arrive at the dinner and Bree is shepherded off to a random table, I’m guided to the front to sit with not just Rori, but also Landon Battle.
Danger.
“All the speakers are here at Table One tonight,” the event staffer explains to me before disappearing.
I’m left standing there, clutching my purse, staring at Rori and Connor’s brother.
“Hi, there,” Rori says after a beat, looking sympathetic. She probably thinks I’m anxious for reasons—my speech, or being with famous athletes—other than the real one. “I’m Rori.”
She stands and offers her hand, and I shake it in turn. “Nice to meet you. I’m Eden.”
“Del’s daughter. What a coincidence,” Landon says from his seat. “Good to see you again.”
“You too.”
Rori points to a chair by him. “There are place cards, and you’re next to Landon.”
Great.
“But Landon, why don’t you sit in her spot so she and I can talk.”
“Yeah, good call.” He scoots over to where I was supposed to be.
Now I’m going to be in a Rori and Landon sandwich. Awesome.
We get settled, and a few others at the table introduce themselves—a player for the baseball team, who’s the other student speaker, and a couple of administrative officials with their spouses. Once that’s done, though, Rori and Landon turn their attention back to me.
“So you’re a senior, right?” Rori asks. “How’s the season going for the team?”
It’s cool she’s already aware of me enough to know I play soccer. Since she wasn’t at Grace’s wedding, it’s the first time we’ve met. With our bananas schedules, we haven’t ever been at the same Waves event either, as far as I know.
“We have our first round match for the NCAA championships on Thursday.” Two days from now.
“That’s exciting.” Rori looks genuinely interested, and my nerves begin to ease. Her energy is warmer than I expected from the gritty side she shows on court. “We should try to watch one of the games,” she says to Landon.
“Would love that, if I can.” He shifts to me. “I could make tonight’s dinner since it’s our bye week, but you know as much as anyone how unforgiving NFL life is.”
“For sure. Even more so, now that you’re almost guaranteed to make the playoffs.” At 8–2 for the season, the Waves would need a massive fall-off to not make it.
“All the way to mid-February I hope.”
“Well, if we can make the schedule work for one of Tolliver’s games, we could bring Connor,” Rori directs at Landon. “I bet he would enjoy it. Relive his college soccer days.”
Prickles shoot up my neck.
“Absolutely,” Landon replies enthusiastically.
Danger, danger, danger.
“The games won’t be local after the third round, so it might be hard to juggle your schedules.” Time to change the subject to a safer one. “Grace is one of my managers now,” I say to Landon in an awkward segue.
He doesn’t bat an eye, though. “Oh, sweet. Gracie’s the best.”
“She’s been so wonderful to work with. SLP has helped organize my schedule and manage the non-stop emails coming in, it’s been awesome to stay sane.”
“Love to hear it.”
“Did you work with Connor while he was there?” Rori asks me.
Sheesh, can we stop with the Connor talk? “A little, yes.”
“It’ll be interesting to see what he does after the season,” she replies.
“Hopefully, he gets a contract to keep kicking,” Landon interjects, his eyes lit up. “Since that’s what he wants to do.”
“I hope so, too,” Rori responds, smiling at him.
“Your dad’s been a game changer for Connor,” Landon continues, his voice laced with emotion. “We’re really grateful.”
“I’m so glad,” I reply. “I’m sure Connor’s earned the opportunity too.” I know he has, but I can’t say that out loud.
“He certainly has. I’m really happy for him.” The pride and affection radiating off Landon is palpable. This man, his big brother, truly cares deeply for him.
His transparent love for Connor reinforces my instincts from weeks ago. Not only do I think his siblings would want to know everything he went through with their mom, but I’d bet a whole NIL deal they’d support him in every way possible.
That could only be good for Connor.
Rori and then I get called up a short time later to give our speeches in succession, as people eat their sautéed chicken dinners.
While the topic of Connor doesn’t come up again, I’m left with food for thought afterward.
Maybe it’s time he stops holding onto this secret with the people who love him most?
I feel good about my classes, but as I look ahead to the coming weeks, I’m still overwhelmed. SLP may be organizing my schedule; I’m the only one who can execute it. The playoffs, homework, my NIL content obligations—they make for days where I’m constantly on the go.
So much so that Bree and I decide to get up early the next morning to shoot all the content that’s required before the holidays under our NIL contracts.
My alarm goes off at six, which is ouch. We want to start by the time the sun rises in forty-five minutes, and unlike my Feetlix pics a few weeks back, I need my hair and makeup reasonable for what’s on the agenda today.
After I shower, I notice Bree’s not up yet. Dang it. Time to be annoying.
I knock on her bedroom door. “Hey friend, wakey wakey…”
“Grslkjflksdjj” or something like that comes through the door.
I retreat into my bedroom as soon as I hear her marching around. She goes into our shower five minutes later, while I blow-dry my hair in my room.
Twenty minutes afterwards, I’m in hers while she does the same.
“Whose genius idea was this anyway?” she grouchily asks.
“Um, yours?” Last night she’d been all about it when we came back from the dinner. I’d jumped at her proposal because I needed to knock these tasks out anyway.
“Oh, yeah.”
“Just think, by the time we go to our ten o’clock classes, we won’t have to worry about taking photos or videos again for months.”
She grumbles her way through finishing her beauty routine, and we both head outside with coffee, the products we’re supposed to promote, and my tripod.
I won’t lie. While we’re cute, smiley, and happy for the camera during the next two hours, I don’t feel that way inside until we’re done.
Another thing checked off the list for a while. Phew.