Saving Forever (The Ever Trilogy: Book 3) Page 14

  I didn’t know what to say. How to react. What to even think. “But you’re their family.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So you just…left? Without telling anyone?”

  “YES!” Eden screamed. “I couldn’t tell them! I was afraid! I’m still afraid! I’m terrified, Carter. You don’t even know the worst part.”

  Oh, god. There was more? “What’s the worst part?”

  “She was pregnant when she had the accident. She miscarried. It was part of why she was so close to death. She lost the baby, and to—to save her, to stop the bleeding, they had to remove her uterus. She’ll never have kids. I’m carrying her husband’s baby, and she’ll never, ever have that herself.” Eden fell apart, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t help reaching for her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her against me. It was the only thing I could do.

  She fought against my hold. “No. NO! I don’t—I don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be here. You should leave.” Her sobs turned into hyperventilation.

  I held her anyway, gently but firmly. “Eden. Breathe. Breathe.” She sucked in a deep breath, and another. “Good. Look at me.”

  She turned her wet, reddened eyes up to mine. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’m not leaving, Eden.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m where I want to be.”

  She pulled away from me, slid off the bed. “I’m pregnant, Carter. What do you think could possibly happen between us?”

  I didn’t answer for a long time. “I’m your friend, Eden. I was your friend before this, and I’m your friend now. Maybe I thought…” I trailed off, shaking my head and began again. “No. Look, there’re no ulterior motives. I’m here because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone. No matter what happened, no matter what mistakes you may have made, it doesn’t mean you should suffer alone.”

  “Yes, it does. I betrayed my twin sister. She’s half of me. And I betrayed her. I’m a shitty, terrible, horrible person.”

  I stood up and faced her. “No. You’re not.”

  Eden’s eyes met mine. “How can you even look at me? How can you stand there and act like you’re not disgusted?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t judge you, and I won’t. I’m not.” I turned away, hunting for the right words. “You want to know what I think? For real?” I pivoted back to face her. “It was a fucked-up, impossible situation. And I don’t think anyone, least of all me, has any right to judge you for the choices you made. You want the truth? Here’s a hard question for you: What if she hadn’t woken up? Would it still have been a betrayal?”

  She turned away from me, refusing to meet my gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “Were you jealous? Did you do it out of some kind of…I don’t know…manipulative rancor?”

  “No!” Eden whirled on me. “I was confused! Alone! So was he! It was the only comfort either of us had.” She deflated, her anger and outrage bleeding away, replaced once again by guilt. “But…there was jealousy. Not over Caden. Just…growing up, Ever was always better than me. Popular. Everyone liked her. She made friends without trying. She was…everything I wanted to be. Tried to be. She could eat anything she wanted and stay skinny, and I’ve had to diet and work out all my life to keep from getting fat. I’ve just…I’ve always been jealous of her. In general. And I didn’t sleep with Cade because of jealousy. I swear I didn’t. But after I found out I was pregnant and she woke up, knowing I’d spent our entire lives nursing that little seed of jealousy…it just made everything worse. Made me question…everything. I mean, did I do it to get back at her? But…I love Ever. I do. I swear I do!”

  “You don’t have to convince me, Eden.”

  “I’m not going back. I can’t. It’s best this way.”

  “Listen, it might not be my place to say this but…Cade or Caden or whoever he is does bear some responsibility.” I took a step toward her, hesitant. Reached out and touched her arm.

  She flinched away, pulled her arm out of reach. “Don’t, Carter. No matter what either of us might feel, it’s impossible. So just don’t.”

  “What do you feel?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It won’t ever matter.”

  I sighed, nodding. “Okay, well, be that as it may, I’m here. I’m your friend. And I’m not going anywhere.” I reached for her again, tentatively. “Friends hug, right? Just a hug.”

  She sniffed, and then laughed. “That would be nice.”

  I chuckled and pulled her in. I was careful about how I held her, how I stood, where my hands went. She was my friend, and that was it. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, turned my head to the side, away from her hair. She fit perfectly against me, her head tucked just beneath my chin. Her hair smelled like citrus shampoo, and I caught a whiff of body lotion. Cherries, or lavender. Something faint, but exotic. I resisted the urge to inhale her scent and just hold her. It was a hug, nothing more. There was space between our bodies, so she wouldn’t mistake my intentions.

  She let out a long breath, shaky, tremulous, and stepped away. “Thank you.”

  My hand reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her eye. I hadn’t meant to do that, but I couldn’t take it back. She flinched from my touch, but she didn’t pull away. I dropped my hand and shoved my fists in my pockets. “You’re welcome.”

  “I mean, for…for listening. For not judging. For being my friend, even though I don’t deserve it.” She sounded as if she absolutely meant that last part.

  “Eden. Everyone deserves friendship, and understanding. That’s all I’m offering.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “So are you.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not, but let’s just agree to disagree.” She glanced past me at the darkness that had fallen. “You should get home. It’s getting late. You’re not swimming home, are you?”

  I laughed. “Hell, no. I’ve got my boat. And I can always stay at the winery, if I have to.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m here, Eden. If you need anything, just ask.”

  She nodded. “I will. Now go. For real. I’m fine.”

  “‘You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.’”

  Eden laughed, a genuine, delighted laugh. “‘Inconceivable!’” She said it with an exaggerated lisp, doing her best to sound like Vizzini.

  I grinned at her. “If you hadn’t gotten that quote, I might have had to rethink being friends with you.”

  “I’m glad I knew it, then.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  And just like that, we were back to serious. Her eyes searched mine, and I wondered what she was thinking. Maybe I was better off not knowing.

  The lock of hair fell across her eye again, and I was tempted to brush it away once more. I didn’t. Instead, I hugged her again.

  She fell against my chest with a laugh, hugging me back, her arms going around my waist, her hands on my shoulder blades. “You give good hugs.”

  “So do you.”

  She pushed me away. “Go.”

  I left and managed to drive away without looking back. I could feel her watching me from the doorway, though. I got all the way home before letting a brutal wave of exhaustion wash over me.

  Eden was pregnant. It explained all the changes I’d seen in her, and it explained the back-and-forth of her emotions. There was something between us. She knew it, and I knew it. But like she’d said, it was impossible.

  And just because I was talking again didn’t mean I was totally over Britt, and what had happened there. If anything, telling Eden about it had brought it all back. I was doing my best to push it away, ignore it, keep it down and act like I was fine but, in truth, I wasn’t. I missed her. Every day, I missed Britt. And, every day, I was sliced by pangs of guilt over having not been there for her. And now, with everything that was happening with Eden, I felt even more guilt about it. The seedling feelings I had for Eden were ta
king root all too easily. As if, somehow, I now wanted to replace Britt.

  I went into my workshop and took the sheet off the sculpture of Britt. I’m sorry, I wanted to say. I wish you were here, I wanted to say. But I couldn’t get the words out, not to a sculpture. It wasn’t her.

  I’d hoped maybe I’d find some answers out here with Britt’s likeness, but all I got was silence, and misery. No matter what I felt for Eden, our situation was next to impossible. I could be her friend, because I’d made that promise to her. And I’d keep that promise. But, truthfully, I wanted more. I wanted her to feel for me what I felt for her. But she couldn’t…or wouldn’t. Even if she did feel as I did, acting on it was out of the question for her.

  It all seemed so impossible. Yet I’d started the course, and I’d stay it, one way or another.

  nameday

  At the end of three weeks, Eden’s house was finished. My brothers were bitching at my absence, but the bar was done, the tasting room was progressing, and the vines were in good shape. They’d survive a few weeks without me. Or so I told myself.

  I’d redone the hardwoods completely, since what was there was too roughed up to be salvageable. I saved a bunch of the old wood, though, since I had a few ideas for ways to reuse it. In its place, I put down dark cherrywood, stained it until it was the color of thick brandy, coated it until it shone like glass. The walls all got stripped of wallpaper and old paint, and Eden chose ivory paint to go on the walls. She helped me paint, which I only allowed if the windows and doors were all open to vent the fumes. The counters in the kitchen got polished slate to match the floors in the bathroom, with a backsplash using leftover tiles from the bathroom. The cabinets were in decent shape, so I sanded them down and repainted them a pale blue to match the tiles in the bathroom and backsplash. I pulled down the ceiling and re-plastered it, since most of it was ruined from the leaks. I even replaced the kitchen sink and vanity in the bathroom, as well as the toilet. By the time I finished, only the cabinets were original, and even those were unrecognizable.

  The last project was replacing the screens on her windows and on the front door. The screens were easy enough, but as I pulled the old screen door off the front door, I realized the main door itself was as outdated and inefficient as the rest of the house had been, so I took Eden over to the Home Depot on South Airport Road and she picked out a new front door. I made her pick out a storm door as well, even though she protested it was an expense she didn’t need.

  On the way back from ordering the doors, Eden was quiet, lost in thought.

  I glanced at her, turned the radio down. “Dollar for your thoughts?”

  Eden snorted in laughter, shooting me an amused glance. “Isn’t the phrase supposed be ‘penny for your thoughts’?”

  “I figure your thoughts are worth a bit more than a dollar.”

  “Oh, yeah? A whole ninety-nine cents more?”

  I nodded. “At least. I could probably go a full two bucks.” I turned left onto Garfield, which would take us to Center Road and up the peninsula once more. “For real, though. I can feel you thinking over there. What’s up?”

  She cranked the window open and closed her eyes as the wind tousled her hair. “Even if you’re not charging me for labor, the parts alone of this remodel have to be costing you small fortune.”

  “Eden,” I started, “I told you—”

  “I’m not arguing. I’m just wondering how you can afford it. I’m sorry if this is nosey, but it just doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, if you were gonna flip this house, that’d be one thing. But I own the house with my sister. It was my parents’ vacation cabin. So…obviously it’s not a flip project for you. I told you up front I can’t pay you, so you’re not doing it as a contractor. I’m not even asking why anymore. I’m asking how.”

  I sighed. “My parents have money, and my brothers and I have all been earning our own money since we were teenagers. I started working for my uncle when I was fourteen. He’s a builder, and he taught me everything I know. I built houses with him for eleven years, and I’m part owner of his company, on top of my quarter share in the winery.”

  “I don’t know anything about wineries, obviously, but if you haven’t finished your tasting room, how are you turning a profit?” she asked.

  “We’ve been selling the grapes for the past three years, for one thing. They’re not mature enough yet to make wine from, but they’re still valuable produce, and we have a lot of vines. Plus, we’ve been buying wine grapes from other local vineyards and making wine from those and selling it. We don’t have huge distribution yet, but you can buy Haven Brothers wine throughout most of Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana. Kirk is working on Illinois and Wisconsin as we speak, and we’re hoping to get distribution on both coasts by the time we’re harvesting grapes mature enough to make wine from, which will be this fall.”

  I pulled over onto the scenic turnout overlooking Chateau Grand Traverse’s vineyard, and the rippling, sunlit East Arm Bay with the Leelenau Peninsula in the distance. It was a gorgeous spot, a favorite of tourists. During peak tourist season, this turnout would be packed with cars full of tourists snapping pictures with phones and cameras. “I also sell some sculptures here and there, but that’s more for fun than anything.”

  “Sculptures?” Eden asked as she hopped out of the truck and leaned back against it, staring out at the bay.

  “Yeah. Woodcarving.”

  “You must be pretty good, if you can sell them.”

  I shrugged. “I guess. There’s an art gallery downtown that displays my work for me.”

  “So your point is, you’re doing fine, financially.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s my point. And not only that, since I’m a contractor, I can get materials for cheap. I grew up on this peninsula, and I know just about everyone in the building business for a hundred miles in every direction. I get discounts all over the place, in return for help on various jobs. So please, stop worrying. I enjoy the work, I’m not hurting for money, and it means I get to hang out with a gorgeous, funny woman in the process. I can’t lose.” My smile faded when I saw the expression on Eden’s face.

  “I’m anything but gorgeous and funny, Carter.” She scuffed at the dirt under foot.

  “To me you are.”

  “We talked about this, Carter,” she whispered.

  “I know. I know. But that doesn’t change my opinion of you. We’re friends, and just friends. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see what’s in front of me. You’re talented, intelligent, and beautiful. And yeah, you might be a bit of a mess, and in a spot of trouble, but that doesn’t define you. Or at least, it shouldn’t.”

  “A spot of trouble?” Her voice was incredulous. “Is that what you call this?” She gestured at her belly, which was starting to pop, now.

  I sighed. “Okay, yeah, it’s a little fucked up. But it’s not the end of your life. I know there’s probably a lot more to the story, but it’s not the be-all and end-all of who you are. You messed up. Everyone messes up.” I pivoted and stood in front of her, looked her in the eyes so she could see my sincerity. “You’re a good person, Eden. You have to stop vilifying yourself.”

  “I don’t know how,” she said, her voice faint, her eyes sliding away from mine and back to the bay, shining with unshed tears. “Every day that passes, the reminder of what I did gets more and more obvious. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Carter. I don’t know how to have a baby. How to be a mother.”

  “One day at a time, Eden. That’s how. One decision at a time.” I leaned against the truck, beside her but not too close.

  She shook her head, a tear trickling unnoticed down her cheek. “Easy to say.” She looked down, covering her face with both hands. “I couldn’t…couldn’t and wouldn’t even think of having an abortion. It wasn’t ever a choice. But…I don’t even want to be a mother. Not yet. Maybe never. How horrible is that? I’m afraid I’ll resent the baby. I know I will. My whole life is thrown off-course because of this pregnancy.
I was gonna graduate from Cranbrook and be a professional cellist. The DSO first. Like Mom. I already have an audition lined up. Or…I did.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she had to suck in a deep breath and let it out to keep going. “Eventually, I wanted to play somewhere exotic. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra, maybe. Or London.”

  “Britt loved the London Philharmonic. She was a music teacher, eighth grade. She came from big money. Her dad owns a big tech company or something.” Talking about Britt was hard. I had to force the words out. “She taught because she loved teaching. Music was her passion, though. She played the violin. She was good, really good, but she had major stage fright issues. Even a classroom was hard for her, but she managed it because she loved the students. A full orchestra, huge audiences…that was out of the question for her. God knows she tried, though. She just couldn’t do it.”

  Eden smiled sadly at me. “She sounds like she was amazing.”

  I nodded, finding it hard to speak. “She—she was.”

  We’d somehow moved closer and closer as we talked, until our elbows touched. Eden leaned against me, resting her head on my arm. “Losing someone you love is the worst fucking thing ever,” she said.

  “You lost your mom?”

  Eden nodded against my bicep. “Yeah. When I was thirteen. Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. She was incredible. She was a cellist like me, played with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra until she had Ever and me. She was a painter, too, like Ever. Beautiful. Fun.”

  “You miss her.” It was a stupid, obvious thing to say, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s hard to remember her. I have specific memories, you know? From childhood. Going to the park with her. Family vacations up here. Things like that. She died so suddenly, you know? If I’d known I was gonna lose her, I’d have tried to remember more.”