Chapter 15
Eden
I’m just applying the last of my eyeliner when a low whistle catches my attention. Jenna stands in my bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame.
“Hey there, lady killer,” she says. “Looking good, sis. Sloane is going to faint when she gets a look at all this.”
Grinning, I check my makeup one last time before moving away from the mirror.
I know I look good because I spent fucking hours this afternoon agonising over my outfit choice.
I decided to go with what makes me comfortable.
Black. I’m in my fancy black suit pants and a very fitted black shirt.
My hair is slicked back and I’m wearing punky makeup.
It’s possible I look like a character from Lost Boys, but whatever.
I look good, and Sloane has always appreciated my alternative fashion.
“It’s our first official first date,” I say to my sister as I search for my watch and wallet.
Sloane will be here in ten minutes to pick me up.
I’m stupidly excited to be eating at a fancy restaurant with her.
Hopefully there will be candlelight and soft music, you know, to really notch up the cheese factor.
“I know. Sloane hasn’t stopped messaging me all day.”
I laugh because I can imagine Sloane panic messaging all her friends in a bid to choose her outfit, like I did. Bella helped me for all of ten minutes until she got bored with my inability to decide.
“Why are you here anyway?” I ask, strapping on my watch. “Did I know you were coming over?” My memory is atrocious at times.
“No, you didn’t, it was a spur of the moment thing,” she says.
“Fair play. I’m sorry I’m about to leave you alone, then. It’s been ages since we’ve hung out.”
“I’ve got Bella and Becca waiting in the living room with pizza and Xbox.”
Snorting, I slip my boots on. “Right, so you didn’t come over to see me at all. Charming!”
Jenna rolls her eyes. “It’s Friday, so it’s pizza and game night. It’s not my fault you’re abandoning us for the love of your life and a sappy restaurant.”
“You’d only cry if I was here, kicking your arse at Mario Kart. It’s a blessing really.” I squint at her when I realise she’s in a soccer jersey. “You’ve been AWOL for two weeks,” I state. “And since when have you been into soccer?”
She goes pink. “If you must know, I decided to volunteer at a summer camp for kids with queer parents.”
Hmm, there’s more to the story. There isn’t much in life that gets Jenna Sawyer blushing. If I make this too serious she’ll clam up, and I desperately want to know what’s going on with her.
Taking a step towards her, I place my hand on her shoulder. “This is a safe space, Jenna. You can come out if you want, I love you for you, and it’s totally okay to be straight. I won’t judge you.”
Jenna gives me one of her best eye rolls and bats my hand away.
“You’re such a dick sometimes, Eden. And if you must know, I’m pansexual.”
“Right on,” I say, holding out my hand for a fist bump, which she gives me reluctantly.
“So? Is there someone at camp? Because that’s the only reason I can see you dragging your arse out of bed voluntarily on a holiday.”
“Dick!” she reinforces, but her blush kind of takes the heat out of her word.
“There is! Isn’t there?” I push. “Come on, Jen. Spill it.”
She relents, grinning sheepishly. “Fine. But it’s classified information until I can figure it out myself.”
I flop onto the bed. “Who are they?”
Jenna picks at her cuticle. “Her name’s Kiera.”
Huh, interesting. I knew a Kiera once, and she was the fucking worst. Okay, we sort of left on better circumstances than when we met, but still.
She was the school’s soccer captain and a menace.
She had a massive crush on Sloane and got pretty shitty when we started dating.
It was because of her I hobbled across the finish line on my very first 5k run.
Kiera tripped me, almost busting my ankle.
She apologised eventually, and I told her I had no beef with her.
She went off to college, and so did I. That’s the last I heard of her.
It’s just a coincidence for Jenna to like a woman called Kiera. It’s not that small of a world.
“Is she camp staff?”
She nods, bashful. “She’s the assistant coach. The kids love her.”
“Are you guys dating?”
Jenna shrugs. “We’re just talking at the minute. She’s a few years older than me, and I think she’s worried about what people might say.”
Hmm, an older woman called Kiera.
“How much older?”
“A few years. She’s your age if you really must know.”
Well, fuck my life.
“Jenna,” I begin. “Is this Kiera the same Kiera who was a complete arsehole to me in high school?”
Jenna turns ever redder and drops her eyes to the floor. “Um…it’s possible.”
I stare at her with my mouth open in shock.
“Before you get on your high horse, I spoke to her about that. She knows she was a twat.”
I snicker, because it never fails to amuse me when my very American-sounding sister uses British slang.
Jenna catches my snicker and punches me in the shoulder. “I can’t help my accent, you turd!”
“Hey,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I didn’t say a word!”
“You didn’t have to. I’ve been in the US since I was small. Of course my accent is stronger than yours.”
Shaking my head, I push down the urge to keep annoying her.
“Back to the issue, please. Kiera!” The doorbell buzzes, saving Jenna from any further interrogation. “This conversation isn’t over!”
Jenna scoffs and flips me the bird as I push past to answer the door.
Sloane stands in the hall, gripping a bouquet of wildflowers so tight her knuckles are white.
She looks…incredible. Like herself but dialled up.
She’s in a pale blue dress with sleeves capped at the shoulders, and tiny silver hoops in her ears.
Her hair is soft and loose, in its perfect beach wave style.
We stare at each other, both speechless.
Jenna breaks the spell. “You two are disgusting,” she calls from my bedroom doorway.
Sloane’s face breaks into a smile, and every drop of awkwardness slips away. She holds out the flowers. “These are for you.”
I take them and step in close, catching her scent: lavender and something woodsy. “I’ve never been given flowers before. Thank you, they’re beautiful. Like you.”
“Oh gag,” Jenna calls, which earns her a glare.
Sloane just laughs, letting her hand graze mine. “Ready?”
I look past her, where the late summer sun is catching dust motes in the stairwell, and I get this euphoric rush in my chest.
“Yeah,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers. “Ready.”
As we leave, I glance back one more time. Jenna is still at the bedroom door, grinning wide and shameless. Even though she’s dating Kiera, I still love the little arsehole and all her sibling support.
Down on the street, Sloane links her arm through mine. We’re walking to the restaurant, which means Sloane will have to come back to mine to pick up her car. Honestly, I’m hoping Sloane will agree to stay over tonight. I just want to hold her.
“So, do you think they’ll have crème br?lée?” she asks.
“I hope so,” I reply. “But if not, I’ll pour some bourbon over a pudding cup and set it on fire when we get back.”
She laughs loudly, which makes me smile like a damn fool. This is exactly how it’s supposed to be. Me and her.
The restaurant is so posh I’m very intimidated.
I’ve been to snobby food joints before with my parents.
Mom sometimes had to impress a client, and that meant dressing the family up and forcing us to sit at a fancy table, eating food that came in miniature portions.
None of those restaurants has a patch on this place, though.
We’re seated at a cosy table by the window. There is low lighting and a dude playing the piano in a tuxedo.
Sloane smiles politely at the server whereas I give him an awkward thumbs-up for some reason.
Sloane does a terrible job covering her snort of amusement. We order wine. Actually, Sloane orders it ’coz I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s good.
When the server has left, Sloane lets her laugh bloom. “What was that?” she asks.
“No idea,” I state. “My thumb just sort of popped up.”
We laugh until the server returns with our wine. We clink glasses before taking a sip. I’m pleasantly surprised by the taste. I’m definitely a beer kinda girl, but this is pretty damn good.
“You know,” Sloane begins, “I’ve noticed something about you that’s changed.”
“Oh, what’s that then?”
“You’ve stopped answering things with a question attached.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I did that a lot, huh?”
“It was cute. But you’re more confident now. That’s why you’ve stopped doing it.”
“I’m comfortable in myself, and my awkwardness.” I laugh. “Plus, I only really did that with you. You stripped me of all my game, right from the start.”
“But not anymore?” she teases.
“Oh, I still have no game with you, Sloane. You’re just used to my oddities, is all.”
She slings a devastating grin my way. “I guess that’s true. The whole thumbs-up thing shouldn’t have been a surprise.”
Sloane’s gentle mocking is interrupted by the server taking our food orders. We haven’t even looked at the menu, so we both scan the menu quickly. It’s in French so I haven’t the foggiest what the bloody hell I’m picking. I just point at something on the menu and hope for the best.
We slip back into easy conversation and some super-hot flirting. Our food arrives and I’m very happy to have chosen a plate of vegetables. It didn’t even occur to me I might end up with a slab of beef or something.
“I would have said something if you’d ordered meat,” Sloane says, picking up her cutlery, ready to dig into her dinner. I think it’s Coq au Vin.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I obviously ignore it. That is until it continues to vibrate nonstop. Frowning, I apologise to Sloane. Pia’s name lights up the screen.
“It’s Pia,” I say.
Sloane puts down her knife and fork, her eyebrows furrowing. “You’d better answer it in case it’s an emergency.”
Pia put us all on alert two days ago when she reached her due date.
“Pia?”
My ears are met with a scream so loud half the restaurant turns my way. I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at Sloane with wide eyes as the scream goes on and on.
Finally, it ends and then all I hear is panting. There is a rustling sound before I hear Pia’s voice shouting at Todd to drive faster.
“Get to the fucking hospital,” is all she shouts down the phone before the phone line cuts.
I stare at my phone like it might scream again, half-expecting it to vibrate into a puddle.
Sloane arches an eyebrow. “Was that a war cry?”
I nod, a little stunned. “Yep. That’s the sound of impending motherhood.”
Jesus, it sounds fucking horrific!
The server is suddenly at our table with a hovering, nervous smile. He asks if everything is satisfactory so far. I tell him, without thinking, “Perfect, thanks, just a small screaming emergency with our friend’s foetus.” He bows and shuffles away, more confused than anything else.
Sloane leans in, her eyes bright with concern. “Should we call her back?”
“Or the police?” I half-joke, but there’s an anxious flutter in my gut. “Let’s try Todd.”
I tap out a quick call. Todd answers on the first ring, voice tight and high.
“She’s in labour. She exploded in my car, Eden. There was liquid everywhere! We’re maybe four minutes from Mercy General. What do I do, Eden? She bit me.”
There’s a background cacophony of Pia’s cursing and heavy breathing. Sloane grabs the phone from me, ever the problem-solver.
“Todd, you’re doing great. Is she timing contractions?”
“She’s just screaming, Sloane. Every thirty seconds, it’s like a horror movie in here.”
Sloane gives me a look—equal parts amusement and secondhand panic.
“That means it’s go time. Park right by the emergency entrance. Leave the hazard lights on. Do not let her walk in alone, or she will roundhouse kick the security guard.”
“Okay. Copy that.” Todd hangs up and Sloane hands me my phone back.
I put it down and stare at Sloane. “We gotta go.”
“Let’s get the bill and a doggy bag. We’ll eat in the car if we have to.”
We’re out the door and halfway down the block before I even realise I’m holding a half-eaten wedge of bread. It’s been smushed into a doughy mess.
Funny, all my nerves about the First Official Date have dissipated, replaced with a warm, focused energy. The night air is cool. Sloane’s hand finds mine and squeezes once. “We’ll have to celebrate with crème br?lée after we become honorary queer aunties,” she whispers.
“Deal,” I whisper back. “Although I might need something stronger than baked egg and sugar.”
We end up power walking to my apartment, where I sprint up the stairs and burst through the door shouting for my roomies to get their shit together because we’ve got a kid to help birth.
I don’t know why I said it, because I have no intention of helping birth anything.
My brain’s just overexcited. We all pile into Sloane’s car and make it to the hospital in record time.
Along the way I light up with adrenaline, thinking of Pia’s red-faced fuming, Todd’s helpless terror, and Bella’s inevitable commentary about birth fluids.
Sloane and I are both panting a little by the time we burst through the sliding doors of Mercy General.
The waiting room smells like lemon cleanser and wet coats.
We find Todd, pale and wild-eyed, in the corridor. “They took her to a room,” he stammers.
Sloane steps forward and gently takes his hand.
“Hey,” she begins. “Just take a breath, Todd. Nice and deep, like this.” She takes purposefully deep breaths, allowing her chest to rise and fall dramatically.
Todd still looks ten seconds away from passing out, but he follows along.
Hell, I follow along because this shit is stressful.
A nurse steps through some sliding doors and calls Todd over.
“She’s set up and asking for you.”
He swallows thickly and nods.
“Dude,” I say. “It’s going to be fine. Pia will have that baby out in no time.”
We all laugh, including Todd. “She wants you in there, Eden. When she’s giving birth.”
It’s my turn to go pale and almost pass out.