Page 24 of Scoring Eden

It wouldn’t be fair for me to force her into a decision now, no matter how desperate I am for her to say yes. Children come first always.

So, I hold out my phone to her and tell her to put her number in. She can text me when she’s decided.

The ball’s in her court now.

TEXT THREAD BETWEEN ALEX AND EDEN

Alex: Have you reached a decision?

Eden: Alex, it’s been two hours.

Alex: Oh, do you need longer?

Eden: Quite a bit, yes.

Alex: Okay, take your time.

Alex: But not too much time. I have to bring my new girlfriend to the preseason party next weekend, so if you could decide before then, that would be great.

Eden: I’ll take as long as I need.

Alex: Roger that.

SEVEN

Eden

“Oh my God, you have to do it!” Aspen squeals, pelting a throw cushion at me in her excitement.

“What? I thought you didn’t want me going anywhere near him.”

After meeting Alex at the bar the other night, my sister spent the rest of the evening monologuing about how wrong Alex would be for me. I’d told her that at no point did I believe Alex was right for me, but she’d continued as if I’d declared my undying love for him.

At one point, she’d pulled up Google and forced me to look through page after page of photographs of him with beautiful women, each one different from the last. And then, in her closing argument, she’d told me that I deserve more than a man who will “fuck me once then leave me out to dry like a pair of crusty underpants.”

She has a way with words, my sister.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She waves me off as if nothing she’s said until now matters at all. “But three million dollars? Three million dollars, Eden!”

I’d had the same reaction when I heard the figure for the first time too. I’ve never even dreamed of having that kind of money. Have never allowed myself the luxury of fantasy, because fantasy breeds hope. And hope, though a nice thought, is an indulgence and a distraction. One I can’t afford to have.

Hope doesn’t pay the bills. It doesn’t go to work sick because it can’t afford a day at home. It doesn’t drag itself out of bed, exhausted and depleted, because it has a ten-year-old boy counting on it to get him to school on time, to feed him, to be his source of safety and strength so things don’t fall apart.

Three million dollars would change everything for us, but at what cost?

“I know.” I nod, curling my legs under me on the couch. “It’s insane.”

“Think of what it’ll do for your life. You’d have your own bedroom. Imagine, an actual fucking bed that doesn’t need to be folded back up every morning just so you have a place to sit. And you could go to design school, just like you’ve always wanted. Oh my god”—she shoots up to stand and bounces on the balls of her feet—“you could get a dog!”

Sleeping on an actual mattress that doesn’t have a hump in the middle from the bar support would be spectacular, I admit.

“Aspen, slow down. I don’t know if it’s a good id—”

“No, seriously, think about it. You’d never have to see Anderson again, and Sebastian wouldn’t be able to use money as a reason to take custody of Macon. You wouldn’t need to worry about how you’ll make rent for months. Hell, maybe even years!”

Her eyes are so wide and bright as she grins at me that I almost don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m pretty sure I’m going to turn Alex down.

“That all sounds great, but…” I sigh, picking at the stitching of the cushion she threw at me earlier.