Chapter 34 – Luke
LUKE
While I was in Sundre, I learned the Locke brothers’ schedule.
I learned that from eight to noon on Tuesdays, they’re tied up checking on the cattle with the visiting veterinarian.
I made sure that the medical supplies rep would arrive during that window to deliver Rose’s new wheelchair, one with a wheel that won’t stick.
The rep assured me that she’d make sure the replacement wheelchair worked well for Rose, and she’d dispose of the old one without any fuss.
Save Rose, none of the Lockes will know about the new wheelchair.
I know Rose will keep quiet about it. She knows how proud her children are, and that they wouldn’t want “charity,” even from me.
Still, I’m half-expecting a call from Wade, insisting that they couldn’t accept the gift without paying me back.
What I get instead, two days later, is a single text from an unsaved number my iPhone suggests is Rose Locke.
Rose
It rolls like a dream, darlin’. Our secret.
There’s no way to explain why I read it four times, or why it stays with me all week, like something I didn’t know I’d been missing.
Wade never does call. So naturally, I stop by Eden’s office just to see if she’s heard from her brothers.
Flair Events is only a ten-minute drive from the Twisted Devil tasting room, anyway.
At least, that’s the excuse I give myself for dropping by, hours before I’m supposed to see her tonight.
I also might have conveniently forgotten to confirm whether I was picking her up or meeting her at the restaurant.
Another excuse to see her, just in case.
When I arrive at Flair, the receptionist at the front desk straightens. She flashes me a dazzling smile.
“Welcome to Flair Events,” she says. “Did you have an appointment today, Mr. Windsor? I don’t have you on our calendar.”
I shake my head. “I'm here to see Eden.”
The receptionist blinks. “Did you have an event that she was working on…”
“Just visiting my girlfriend.”
It shouldn't feel as good as it does, repeating that lie. Every time I get to pretend Eden is mine, it’s a chance to act like the fantasy is real.
The receptionist’s expression falters slightly. “Right,” she says after a moment. “I hadn’t heard.”
I stopped myself from asking her, “Really?” Over the past few weeks, Eden and my relationship has been as public as it's ever been.
To make sure the Air Canada deal goes through, I’ve kept Eden busy on a publicity spree, flaunting my non-tawdry, perfectly respectable fake relationship.
If there’s been a gallery opening, a charity fundraiser, even a goddamn ribbon cutting in town, Eden and I made sure to attend.
Our pictures are all over the society pages.
Which, apparently, the receptionist doesn't read.
“So,” I say awkwardly. “Which way is Eden’s office?”
“Down the hall, last door on the right,” she mutters, annoyed.
I’ve been to the Flair office before, when I was first considering them to plan an event for Twisted Devil.
It’s easy to find Eden’s office, which is in a state of controlled chaos.
Piles of boxes are stacked on every surface, some full of papers, others full of party favors or plastic champagne glasses or branded thermoses for Infinity Bank.
Knowing Eden, though, the place is actually in perfect order.
I bet if I asked her to tell me what’s in every box, she could do it without batting an eye.
She’s currently typing on a laptop precariously perched on a massive statue of a cherub. I raise my brows.
“Don’t you have a desk somewhere in here that saves poor Cupid’s head from your computer?” I ask.
Eden finishes typing her last sentence before looking up at me. “Sorry, what?”
I point to the statue, then the desk. “Shouldn’t your laptop be there?”
“Yes,” she sighs. “There just never seems to be enough room.”
“What's with the statue? Doesn't seem like your taste.”
“He's left over from a Valentine's Day party we planned. He was only supposed to be in my office temporarily, but he kind of grew on me.” She closes the laptop and turns to me. “What's up? I thought I wasn't supposed to see you until tonight.”
Tonight, when Eden and I go on yet another not-date, this time a restaurant opening for a friend of Beau’s. Where there are photographers, there’s me and Eden.
“I realized we never made an official plan for tonight. Since I was in the area, I figured it would be easier to stop by and chat.”
“Okay,” Eden says, her eyes leveling me like she knows that’s bullshit. She’s too polite to call me on it, though. “Will there be any execs there?”
“Yes. The president of passenger services. I’ve met him a few times, but I’d like to strengthen that connection.”
She nods. “Okay. Do you know where he came down on the Peppermint thing?”
“I chatted with a few people I know in his department. If they're right, he doesn't care. His wife does, though. She’s a big gossip blog fan, and she’s got a lot of opinions.”
“Hmm. If she loves gossip, I can probably win her over if I drop a few hints about Brinley's wedding.”
I'm a little surprised to hear my sister's name.
Eden almost never brings her up around me.
She's like the third rail we don't touch. I know that Eden and my relationship has put strain on the friendship. Maybe Brinley was reluctantly supportive at the beginning, but thanks to a little inside intel from Beau, I know that they’ve started to pull away from each other a bit.
“Brinley wouldn’t mind you telling a stranger that stuff?” I ask.
“I mean, I doubt she would care if I just talked about linen colors and menus. Maybe I’ll ask—” Eden reaches for her phone, then puts it back down.
“Never mind. I won't bother her with it. If the wife wants gossip, I’ll just talk about our relationship instead. You know, the whole Toronto flower market story. I bet she’ll eat it up. ”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
It’s hard putting any enthusiasm into the words. I hate that Eden didn’t text Brinley because of me. It reminds me way too much of what happened between me and Beau. The secrets he kept from me drove a wedge between me and the best friend I’ve ever had.
I know Eden’s keeping our physical intimacy a secret from Brinley.
She hasn’t told me explicitly, but my sister would have decked me by now if she knew.
Eden’s probably not telling Brinley about all the other ways we’ve blurred the lines of our fake relationship until it’s way too close to a real one.
“So, should I meet you at the restaurant?” Eden asks, shaking me out of my inner guilt trip.
“If you were planning on going back to your apartment first, I can pick you up there.” I’ll take any excuse to get an extra ten minutes in her presence.
“Yeah, I have to change,” Eden says.
“You should wear the black dress.” It’s my favorite piece of clothing on earth.
It completely covers her arms, but dips dangerously low in a deep V between her breasts.
Eden wore it to a fundraiser a month ago, and it was all I could do to stop myself from stealing her away into a coat closet to yank that fabric to the side and suck on her nipples until she screamed my name.
We don’t do that anymore, not after that last night in Sundre. It’s like we both silently agreed that if we kept getting that close to fucking, we wouldn’t be able to stop ourselves again. It means that every night I spend with Eden, I end up aching from blue balls.
“Okay,” Eden says, oblivious to the filthy thoughts I’m having. “I can be ready at 7:45.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
I brush my hand against her lower back, leaning in to brush a kiss on her cheek. Eden stiffens, and I whisper, “I just told your receptionist I’m your boyfriend.”
The receptionist who can’t see us all the way back in Eden’s office, but she relaxes immediately at the excuse of having an audience.
I have a feeling we’re both getting pretty good at lying to ourselves about what we’re doing.
Walking out of the Flair Events office, my head spins with competing emotions. I’m eager to see Eden again later, especially in that dress. Fuck, I’ll get to spend all night looking at her, looking stunning while she charms every person she meets.
But I’m dreading dropping her off at her apartment and going back to my empty one. Those are the worst parts of these fake dates—when I’m alone and frustrated in my bed, fisting my cock and fantasizing about Eden.
So many times, when I say good night to her, I’ve had to stop myself from saying what I really want.
Let’s stop faking it.
I’d say it, if it weren’t for Brinley. Their friendship is frayed enough as it is, thanks to me. I refuse to be the man who destroys it entirely. Eden was smart to give us an end date, to put a constraint on this thing that we’re both obviously not in control of. We were doomed from the start.
Unless Brinley changes her mind.
If there’s any way my sister could accept me dating Eden, I’d do it in a heartbeat. It’s too risky to ask her, though. She’d blow up before I could get an honest answer. Maybe I can ask Beau, or make sure she’s in a really good mood before I talk to her about it.
Frustrated, I drag my fingers through my hair. It’s an impossible mission, probing Brinley’s feelings about this mess, but I have to find a way. It’s the only way Eden and I can have a future that’s at all real.