Chapter 2 – Brinley #2
“What do you have in here, cement blocks?” I grumble as I lug one suitcase up the narrow staircase.
“Yes, I figured I better bring my own in case you didn’t have any.”
We’re both sweating and panting when we trudge up the last stair.
“Are you regretting coming here now?” I wheeze as I unlock the door.
“So much,” Eden grunts. “Toronto doesn’t have enough cowboys who want to prove their fragile masculinity by carrying heavy suitcases. Hopefully, it at least has jobs.”
When Eden told me she got into school to be an event planner, it felt like a no-brainer.
She’s the life of any party, and it’s like she was born knowing how to make people feel welcome.
Back when we were in camp, that meant dragging me out of my teenage angst shell by asking me relentless questions about the books I read under the covers.
She’s the first to pull a shy outsider from the corner, the first to suggest a round of shots, the one who always remembers to bring a plastic crown and balloons for the birthday girl.
Plus, I think she likes that event planners get to call the shots and make decisions.
She’s had enough of being bossed around by her brothers.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough of a market in her rancher town in Alberta. She could’ve tried Calgary, but Toronto at least has more opportunities, even if the only jobs Eden found so far are unpaid apprenticeships or part-time assistant gigs that wouldn’t cover half the rent in this city.
Enter: me, the lonely bestie with a tiny guest room to offer. After a month of hounding Eden to accept my generosity, she finally caved and agreed to give Toronto a try.
I lead her inside to my apartment. On the whole, it’s small and cluttered.
The living room sofa is squishy and floral, sent to the thrift store by someone’s grandmother.
The tables are littered with books and magazines, and the room is narrow enough that Eden’s suitcases barely fit through the gap between the coffee table and the wall.
The tour of the bathroom and the kitchen (the only uncluttered room in the house, thanks to Beau) only takes about thirty seconds. Then, it’s time for the underwhelming reveal.
“So…this is your room.” I gesture apologetically to the tiny space, where I managed to fit a twin bed, a two-drawer dresser, and not much else. “Sorry, it’s really more of a walk-in closet than a room. I couldn’t afford a two-bedroom otherwise.”
“Don’t apologize!” Eden assures me. “It’s free, which makes it absolutely perfect.”
“You say that now, but I think even our tent back at Camp Rush was bigger than this.”
“I had to share that tent with three other girls. This walk-in closet is all mine.” Eden flops back on the twin bed and grins. “And it’s comfy, too.”
“Compared to what ? That mattress feels like a brick. I felt like a bad friend offering it to you.”
“I like a firm mattress. Good for your back.”
“Are you lying to make me feel better?”
“No, my back is really that bad after all the time I spent hunched over seating charts,” she groans. “I’d rather sleep on a wood floor than a pile of fluffy marshmallows.”
“Okay, weirdo, whatever you say. The concrete mattress is all yours.”
By the time I’m finished making us a bowl of microwave popcorn, Eden has started unpacking her bags. Somehow, she managed to fit what looks like every piece of clothing she owns into two suitcases. Dresses, jeans, and shirts spread out over the bed like a colorful tornado.
“Uh, where is all this going to go, exactly?” I ask.
“I’ll make it fit,” Eden says brightly. “I have amazing spatial awareness skills.”
“Did you put those on your resume?”
“My resume and my dating profile. Speaking of…how’s your booooooyfriend ?” she teases in a singsong voice.
Heat rises in my cheeks. Eden is the one person in my life who knows about Beau. Since she lives in Alberta, far away from Toronto and everyone who knows my brother, she’s the only person who was safe to confide in.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say quickly. “He’s my…male outlet.”
“Semantics. How’s your male outlet ?”
I shrug. “The same.”
The same answer I always give. The only answer I have.
“Same meaning, he still hasn’t told Luke about you?” Eden presses. “Still hasn’t taken you on a real date? Still hasn’t?—”
“ Eden ,” I interrupt, trying not to let the twist in my chest come through as anger at her in my tone. It’s not her I’m angry at. “I know. I know .”
“Okay.” She’s silent for a minute. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“No, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just?—”
I stop myself from saying that the wedding sucked.
It was so beautiful, watching Cat and Nate celebrate their love in front of all their friends.
Watching Pippa and Ryan dance wildly on the dance floor, seeing James rub Maura’s shoulders when she got tired.
It’s exhausting, seeing these big public love stories play out while mine stays locked in a coat closet.
Eden shoots me an encouraging smile. “We’re good, Brinley. We’ll always be good, and I’ll always want the best for you.”
We fall into a comfortable silence as I eat popcorn and Eden keeps unpacking.
I find myself wondering if she didn’t move in at the best possible time.
In just a few weeks, I head for Italy. It’s a trip I take every year with Beau, in secret, of course.
It’s the one time a year we get to exist out in the open, half a world away from everyone we know.
If Eden can’t find work, then I might finally have someone to cover the Copper Cup while I’m gone.
Someone I trust, who knows about me and Beau, who won’t ask questions I don’t have answers to.
Because planning this trip is always a nightmare.
We have to stagger flights and plant cover stories weeks in advance.
It’s exhausting, but it’s what keeps me going through the other fifty-one weeks of the year.
The one time Beau can actually be my boyfriend.
I can’t lose it this year. Not when everything else in my life feels like it’s fraying at the edges.
It’ll be harder without visiting Eden on the Locke Ranch as my cover story.
“You know what?” Eden says after a moment. “I have a feeling I’m going to love Toronto.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“No reason. Just a feeling. Things are going to turn around for both of us, Brinley. I can feel it.”
This is exactly why having Eden here is dangerous. Secrets are easier to keep when there’s no one around to tell you that you deserve better.