Page 36 of Scoring Eden

I look down at the cushion in my lap. “There isn’t much to know. My childhood was good, I suppose. My parents both had white-collar jobs, so we were privileged in that we had a yard to play in and didn’t have to share a room.”

“Are you close with them?”

My heart squeezes.

I didn’t have the most attentive parents, but I had Aspen, and that was all I needed. As the baby of the family, she saw a side to my parents that I didn’t. And when I fell pregnant with Macon, they were instrumental in my marriage to Sebastian, as if that was the answer to all their problems, which I suppose it was. Because I wasn’t their burden to bear anymore.

After Macon was born, they came to my house sometimes to see him. They wanted a relationship with their grandson, they’d said. Though not enough to continue it after Sebastian and I divorced. That had been the last nail in the coffin in their eyes. My final act of rebellion.

“I don’t see them much,” I tell Alex. “Though, Aspen still does sometimes.”

I chance a glance at him and wish I hadn’t. His shoulders have rolled forward, and there’s a sheen to his eyes that looks too much like pity for me to want to continue down this line of conversation.

“What about you? Are you close with your parents?”

He falters for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. They come to watch me play when they can, but they’re getting older now, so it’s not always easy for them to make the drive down. Their names are Jack and Libby.” He tightens his bun. “Favorite food?”

I guess neither of us are in the mood to discuss our parents in depth.

“Hot wings, but I don’t get to have them much because Macon hates spicy food.”

And takeout is pricey as hell now. I can’t justify dropping twenty dollars on fried chicken when I can barely afford to buy eggs.

Alex opens a drawer in the coffee table and pulls out a notepad and pen, jotting down the minimal information I’ve given him. “Mine’s Chinese food.”

Taking his lead, I pull out my phone and tap it into my notes.

“Respectfully…and I’m not trying to bust your balls here or whatever…” I slide my gaze back to him and drum my fingers over my lips. “But I’m struggling to see how any of this is relevant.”

Setting down the notepad, he sinks back into the cushions and rests his arms over the back of the couch. “I just want to be prepared.”

“For a green card interview?”

His brows tip. “You’re being a brat.”

“I’m being realistic,” I scoff. “Not a single person is going to care about my parents or my favorite kind of taco, but they are going to want to know how we met, how long we’ve been together, our plans for the future, that kind of thing.”

He considers that. “We met at the dental practice when I came in for a toothache, because I couldn’t get a last-minute appointment anywhere else in the city. Must’ve been destiny, because there you were, covered in blue ink, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I just knew I had to see you again, which, as the fates would have it, I did. But that only left me wanting more, so I faked another reason to come back.”

He holds my gaze through the entirety of his speech. It’s weird. And intense. And so strangely sincere that I find myself leaning toward him, my body moving of its own accord, trying to close the gap between us.

His teeth flash with a wicked grin. “How was that?”

Right.

Feet meet Earth.

It’s not real, Eden.

I know that. At least, I think I do.

The vodka I inhaled yesterday must still be in my system. That’s the simplest explanation for my momentary lapse in self-control, and it doesn’t help that I, unfortunately, have the memory of his shirtless chest still burned into my retinas.

I should watch more porn.

It’s been years since I last saw so much male flesh, so if I’m going to make this work with Alex, then I need to desensitize myself to it. I can’t be swooning and clutching my pearls every time he says something sweet or flashes me his nipples.

It’s a matter of self-protection at this point.