48. Evas Edibles
EVA
It’s been great to be home in Atlanta these past two weeks—where I’m staying, thank God—and I went to my first two therapy sessions. They were more helpful than I could’ve ever imagined, and I’m so glad I’m committed to making that a part of my life moving forward. In fact, it’s already helped me so much I’m at Skye’s mansion to tell her more about the nightmares I have. I promised to do so when I was ready, and I am now.
I walk into her house without knocking because she insists. In the living room, Skye is under a pop-up pyramid frame wearing blinking glasses.
“Skye.”
“Don’t interrupt me—I’m levitating!” She cries out.
“You’re firmly planted on the floor.” I inhale the scent of expensive lavender blueberry perfume and burning incense.
“I’m micro-levitating. I was about to transcend.”
“Sorry not sorry.” My face crumples. “Grumpy butt.”
She shimmies out from under the pyramid frame. “What’s got you more wound up than a Jack-in-the-box?”
I go to answer her, but as I stand, the weight in my chest grows heavier. And as though Skye can read my thoughts, she says, “Oh, hon. Sit.” She guides me over to her velvety soft couch.
Once I’m seated, I say, “Skye,” and it’s whisper soft. “So, you know everything at the wedding—the tension with my dad? It all made me come face to face with a piece of myself and my past that I buried.”
“I can imagine.”
“You know how my mom died?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
Her expression softens, and she reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Of course, Eva.”
I go to say the words out loud, but they won’t come.
“I know,” she whispers.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “So you know I was in the car with her,” I say, the memory surfacing like a ghost. “And she saved me, but I don’t exactly really remember it. Just the parts that come up in my nightmares.”
Skye nods, her usual vibrancy muted.
“I was hoping you’d help me work through it.”
“Of course. I’m thrilled to help.” She rubs my back. “And your dad—Eva, I’m so sorry. You know you’re not to blame, right?”
“Logically, yes.” I swallow hard. “But illogically, I always feel responsible. Responsible for Paige, who wouldn’t speak—wouldn’t eat—after Mom died.” My throat tightens, the words catching. “And Dad, he was so lost he became someone else. I feel responsible for that too.”
“He always kept your mother’s death trapped inside. That’s why we couldn’t work,” Skye whispers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I don’t know how to stop it, but I want to.”
“Sweetie, you had more than an adult can handle, much less an eight-year-old.” Skye’s voice is gentle, but her grip on my hand is firm, grounding.
I nod, feeling sorry for the eight-year-old me who had to handle all that too. “All I could do is become the reliable one, and that doesn’t come with an off switch. You can’t just stop caring because it’s hard—you have to keep going, keep holding things together. Because if you don’t, who will?”
“Sometimes the hardest thing is to let yourself fall apart. Maybe it’s time you give yourself permission to feel all the messy, scary stuff. To be vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable,” I echo, rolling the word around in my mouth—bittersweet. I know Skye’s right, so I say, “Yes—it’s time to face my fears instead of burying them under a mountain of responsibility.”
She brushes a wisp of hair from my face. “It’s time to stop being the rock and start being the diamond.”
My lips quirk up. “Stop being the rock and start being the diamond,” I echo. “I’d love that.”
“Excellent. Let’s get you there. And with that said, I have a possible first step. If you’re open to it.”
“Sure, of course.”
“Good. Glad you said yes because it would’ve been awkward if you’d said no.” She punches out a text, and a minute later, Riley, with her growing belly—much bigger than it was the last time I saw her—and Sophie appear from the hallway, and they have weird looks on their faces.
“Oh my God!” I run up to both of them and pull them into hugs. “I’ve missed you both so much.”
“We’ve missed you too.” Sophie is holding me so tight she’s almost choking me.
I pull away, looking back and forth between them. “Why are you two here?”
“Let’s have a seat.” Sophie’s voice is Charmin soft.
“I’ll get you wine,” Riley adds.
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t, Riley—”
“Enough with the pregnant-woman charade. I can fetch a damn glass of wine.” She waddles off.
“This isn’t some sort of intervention, is it?” I shoot Skye a glare.
“We love you,” Skye says. “This is a good thing. We just want to see you happy.”
“So it’s true. I’m being handled.” I groan as I flop down on the couch.
In a flash, Riley gives me a heaping glass of crisp wine, and Sophie sits on the couch right smack next to me.
As soon as we’re settled, Skye sits on the floor in front of me and takes my hand. “I have an idea.”
“Nope.” My left eye twitches. One of Skye’s killer ideas involved driving a Winnebago into a ditch, and another was her crashing a business meeting in a dominatrix outfit.
She ignores me, of course. “I have a space for you. For your store.”
“Nope. No money for a commercial space. Not doing that again. Are you on glue?”
“I got such a deal you wouldn’t have to pay rent for six months. It’s a great spot.” Skye puts a hand on my shoulder. “And I know you’ve been securing contracts this time. You’re putting in the legwork, and I believe in you.”
“We believe in you,” Riley adds.
My lip twitches with the words I’m trying to say. “I don’t know. I’m scared. I totally bombed before.”
“Right. This is why it’s step one,” Sophie says. “Just because you failed doesn’t mean you give up.”
“It means you brush yourself off and go for round two, then three. As many as it takes.” Riley tucks a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “You got this.”
“That’s what you both did.” I smile. “Thank you for being such amazing examples. And amazing friends.”
“Enough fluff,” Skye cuts in. “It’s time for you to stop being a spectator in your own life.”
“I’m not a spectator,” I bite back, not believing my own words. These past few weeks have been brutal, and I know Skye’s right. “Or I don’t want to be,” I add.
“Prove it,” Skye says.
She has a point there.
Okay, what do I really have to lose? If I don’t have to pay rent for six months, I won’t have to put up that much cash. I’ll have to decorate the store, buy inventory, and pay utilities, but those things I can cover out of pocket. Isn’t that minor expense worth another shot at my dream?
I think it is.
I may be out of my mind, but suddenly, I’m sure this is the right thing to do, and I don’t want to overthink it, like always. My mouth says, “Okay. I’ll open Eva’s Edibles in your space!”
A conspiratorial smile spreads across Skye’s face. “I knew it!”
But as the idea swirls in my head, I feel a surge of emotions as my heart pounds and my face flushes. This is the most alive I’ve felt in a really long time—at least, as it relates to my career.
It’s a rush of adrenaline, and I clench my fists, the urge to fight coursing through my body.
I look at Skye, Sophie, and Riley, resolute. “Let’s do this.”
As soon as I get home from Skye’s, my phone buzzes, and it’s Paige trying to FaceTime me. I’m so excited to hear from her—she must be back from her honeymoon. We had zero time to talk at her wedding, given that she had so much catching up to do with her switcheroo husband.
I answer. “Did you have fun?”
“So much. It was amazing. Foster’s so amazing. I so made the right decision.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
She stares me down through the holes in some sort of seaweed-looking mask she has on. Clearly, her face is still recovering. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re in love with West?”
“Pfft.” Is all I say, my face contorting.
“Remember I know every single one of your facial expressions,” she adds.
“P, we have the same face,” I say, but it’s just a diversion.
“So, you are in love with him, then.”
I open my mouth to say, “I’m not,” but something stops me. Maybe because it’s a lie.
Oh, shit.
It’s a lie!
Paige is right—I’m freaking in love with West Quinn. For real. Madly, deeply, unconditionally. How did it take me so long to see it?
Of course I’m in love with West—he’s my person!
I’m not up to admitting I just realized it, like this second, so I blurt, “I dunno. It seemed moot.”
“Moot.” I can’t see Paige’s lip curling because of the mask, but I know it is. “That’s such a daft Eva thing to say. How can informing me about the man you love be moot?”
“Girl, you have zero room to talk.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
I shrug, groaning. “I don’t know. It took me years to realize I was even attracted to him that way. Also, he kissed you.” I shudder.
She sits there, blinking. “Are you being serious with me right now? I was contracted to kiss everyone remaining in the top ten. I don’t even remember it.”
“Come on.” How could she forget kissing West? No way.
“I don’t. It was a nothing-burger. When he wanted to go home after, I was like, ‘Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.’ I would’ve rather kissed a wet cloth. All he talked about was that ridiculous Star Wars-Trek crap.”
“Okay, I’m going to let the Star Wars-Trek dig slide because I said the wrong name in your wedding vows. Well, the ones that didn’t count.” I fling a palm up. “But, really? That’s how you felt?”
“Duh.” She picks the polish on her nail, and a whole chunk falls off. “Eva, you’re so dense it hurts. You kissed Zach.”
“Oh.” Wow, I hadn’t even thought about it that way. I stick my tongue out. “Ugh. Gross. I had to block it out.”
“See? Seriously. You really need to get it together. Stop being such a chickenshit.”
“Rude, Paige.” I say that, but is she right? I love West and he loves me—or he did. At least, I’m almost sure. And the way he looked at me when I walked down the aisle was the way he used to look at me.
She sighs. “I’m tired of sugar-coating things.”
My face pinches. “You sugar-coat nothing.”
“Well, I’m not starting now. Go get your man.”
I nod, slowly at first, then more resolute. A smile spreads across my face as the realization dawns.
I can tell West how I feel! I just have to go for it and stop second-guessing myself. “Enough with holding back. I’m gonna go get my man. I’m gonna do it—”
“Oh, shit,” Paige cuts in, grabbing her TV remote and unmuting it.
“What?” I say, desperate.
“Turn on your TV. Channel Eleven.”
I do as she says, and on the screen is Mia interviewing West in front of the Groomsman to Groom mansion.
Shit, shit, shit!
Mia says, “How does it feel to be the next Groomsman to Groom?”
“It’s an honor, Mia.” West is glowing like radium, although I think it’s makeup. “I can’t wait to meet the thirty women who have decided to join me on the show, and I hope to be leaving it with my future wife.” His smile looks so amazing. “I know so many have made enormous sacrifices to join me on the show, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I want each woman to be given a chance to explore our chemistry and a connection. This is a dream come true for me.”
“Well, there you have it, folks,” Mia says. “The Next Groomsman to Groom! See you all at next week’s episode, After the Wedding Reunion Show, where we’ll talk to Paige, her new man, and all the contestants from the previous Bridesmaid to Bride!”
“Paige, I gotta go,” I blurt.
“You sure as hell do.”
I disconnect and grab my keys.