Chapter 27 – Luke
LUKE
February
The past month of my life can be measured in selfies, the pictures Eden and I take to send to her brothers. I find myself scrolling through them whenever I have a spare moment, smiling at the way her nose wrinkles or a strand of hair falls in front of her eyes.
That’s exactly what I do when I finish my final set of chest presses at the gym.
Sitting at the end of the bench, I flip back through the photos.
There’s me and Eden in the Twisted Devil tasting room, clinking glasses for the camera.
Really, we didn’t drink anything. She just stopped by for a minute on her way home from work for the photo and left before I could do more than ask how her day was.
Then, there’s us at a Valentine’s Day party she helped plan for UPS, Nate’s company.
I was attending as a guest, and she was mostly too busy to talk to me.
She did stop long enough to put on some red heart-shaped glasses and press a light kiss to my lips.
That photo went straight to Wade, Reed, and Jasper, who gave it a thumbs down.
The newest selfie shows me and Eden outside the House of Cards, bundled up in our warmest coats and holding snowballs.
A surprise snowstorm inspired us all to gather in the building’s courtyard to build snowmen and, inevitably, start a snowball fight.
Beau and I tend to be especially vicious, but Brinley outdid us all, pummeling a cowering Ryan with a barrage of pre-rolled snowballs.
Eden and I didn’t get to talk much that day, either. We were too busy dodging snow projectiles. We’ve been talking plenty, though, mostly over late night texts.
Luke
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Eden
That’s an awful lot of u’s. What’s wrong?
Luke
A strike at the plant we contract for manufacturing bottles. Not a plant I own for the record. Twisted Devil employees are very happy, thanks.
Eden
:( What does that mean for the cherrywood launch?
Luke
Nothing yet. I’m still praying they can settle it in the next few days.
Eden
Do you want me to do a good luck ritual for you? I have a witch friend I could ask for help.
Luke
Why am I not surprised you have a witch friend?
Eden
She’s not the potions and spells kind of witch. She’s more like the kind who reads your tarot cards and blames everything on Mercury being in retrograde.
Luke
Sure. But if she thinks her tarot cards can stop this strike I’d appreciate it.
Eden
I’ll ask.
Update—bad news. She consulted the cards and said the strike is inevitable. Also, apparently, you’re struggling with impotence. Sorry.
Luke
That’s okay. They settled the strike twenty minutes ago.
For the record, I am also not impotent.
Eden
Don’t worry. I remember.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to send a filthy text in response to that.
Eden and I have been dancing around our mutual attraction ever since we made each other come on her couch.
Every time we touch each other these days, on purpose or by accident, we linger for far too long.
Every goodbye feels charged, like we’re both waiting for an invitation.
I swore to myself that by tying Eden up, I’d keep us both from crossing a line. I failed. Spectacularly. We’re so far past that invisible line, I can’t even see it anymore. Of course, I don’t dare mention it. I’m not saying anything that might make Eden cut things any shorter.
Sighing, I put down the phone and look at my reflection in the gym mirror.
I don’t look amazing. I’m sweaty from the workout, and unusually pale from being inside during the winter.
My complexion isn’t helped by the heavy bags under my eyes.
I haven’t been sleeping well recently. I toss and turn, wondering if Eden’s awake, too.
Deciding whether to text her and find out.
Wishing she could magically find her way into my bed.
It’s beyond pathetic.
My phone rings, and anxiety makes my heart pound when I see Eden’s name.
The last time she called me, it was with the opposite of good news.
She basically put dumping me on a timeline.
What if she's calling now to move the date up?
What if I'm going to be fired from being her boyfriend, effective immediately?
Of course, the desperate desire to hear her voice crowds out any fear of what she might actually say.
“Hey, Eden.” My voice sounds too goddamn chirpy. I lower it purposefully. “How are you doing?”
“I'm okay. Making spreadsheets, as usual. You?”
“Just finishing at the gym. You want a sweaty selfie?” I'm joking, but I'll do it, if she expresses a second of interest.
“I’m good, thanks. Actually, I have to ask you something. It's a little awkward.”
“What?” I ask instantly. I know already that the answer is yes.
Any excuse I get to spend time with her, I’ll take.
If she wants to try a new restaurant that exclusively serves smelly moldy cheese?
I’m there. Does she need someone to recaulk her bathtub?
I’ll help. Has she taken a sudden interest in square-dancing? I'll take lessons.
It's pathetic, but the fact is, I miss her. Since we don't have to pretend for our friends anymore, we have fewer reasons to spend time together. The most I get to see her most weeks is when we meet up for selfies. It’s hard to stretch that out longer than a few minutes.
“You don’t need to say yes, by the way,” Eden says. “But Wade wants me to come back to Sundre the first week of March to talk wedding logistics. He wants you to come with me.”
Thank you, Wade. I’ll send you crates and crates of my cherrywood whiskey. I’ll sign over half my business. Whatever you want as a thank you gift, it’s yours.
“He does?” I ask, trying not to sound too gleeful.
“He says it’s a good opportunity for you to discuss your whole grain deal. Really, though, I think he wants to suss you out. Figure out what your intentions are and all that.”
“What, Project Selfie wasn’t enough to convince him?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything suspicious. I just don’t believe for a second that he only wants you there to talk business. It’s also a lot of time away from work for you. I can tell him no.”
“Don’t. I want to go. Wade’s right, it’s good business for us to meet in person and for me to inspect the product. Unless you don’t want me to go.”
Eden sighs. “I mean, I’m not exactly excited to be constantly surveilled by my brothers for a few days. But if you could go, it would make my life easier.”
“So you do want me to go? Because you don’t exactly sound excited about it. I don’t want to buy a ticket just to watch you be miserable.”
“I wouldn’t be miserable with you,” she says, laughing. “I want you to come to Sundre, Luke. I think you’d like it. We might even have fun.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“Okay.” I can tell from her tone that she’s smiling. “I’ll confirm the dates and get the tickets.”
“No, I’ll get the tickets. Twisted Devil has corporate accounts that’ll cover the flights and get us into the fancy executive lounges.”
“Fine.” She laughs again. “I can’t believe you’re going to Sundre.”
“Should I buy a pair of cowboy boots? Will they let me on the ranch without them?”
“Just wear your sneakers. We don’t want you looking like a city boy poser.”
“But I am a city boy poser.”
“And if you behave, maybe we’ll buy you some boots in town.”
After promising to text me about the dates, Eden hangs up. I look back at my reflection with the bags under my eyes. The guy in the mirror looks at me like I’m an idiot, which I am.
I’m about to visit Eden’s hometown and meet her family. That means I’ll be stuck performing a fake relationship for the Locke brothers, while pretending to Eden that it’s not real.
Convincing the Lockes that I’m in love with Eden should be no problem. It’s the other part I’m worried about.