Page 7 of Run To You
“God damn it, I screwed everything up.”
“Hey,” Jenna begins. “This isn’t a pity party, Sloane. This is a meeting of the minds to see how we go forward. Eden might live in her own apartment, but she comes home a lot. At some point she’s going to find out you’re back. I don’t want either of you to hurt anymore, so we gotta figure this out. I want you both in my life.”
“Jenna, I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I want you to say you’ll talk to her. Becca, too.”
“Everything okay, sweetie?” Mom asks, carrying out a tray of lemonade. “You look pale.”
“Eden’s home,” I say.
Mom drops to the deck chair and sits next to me. “I thought I saw her the other day,” Mom murmurs into her own glass of lemonade.
“I know it’s going to be hard,” Jenna says.
“It’s impossible, Jenna! I’ve pissed off ninety percent of the people who did nothing but love me. How the hell do I make that right?”
“One day at a time, sweetie,” Mom says. “Maybe start with Becca.”
Becca. My best friend in the whole world. When I was in the worst of my anxiety, I pulled away from her too. She called and texted nonstop, but I was in such a dark place I couldn’t do anything but hide away in my room. Alex was the only one I let in, and that’s because she’d show up at my door and wait until I let her in.
I know how that must have looked to Eden. No wonder she questioned my fidelity, but I never once crossed the line. Like Kiera back in high school, I knew Alex wanted more from me, and yes, she flirted, but I made it clear the only person I was interested in was Eden. Even after I asked for a break and eventually stopped communicating, I never had an interest in anyone but Eden.
I’ll admit I made a mistake, though. Six months ago I had way too much to drink and slept with Alex. Itbroke our friendship because I wouldn’t give her what she wanted afterwards. I was so guilt-ridden because I felt like I’d betrayed Eden all over again. The day after, all I wanted to do was call Becca and ask for her advice. Of course I couldn’t, and it compounded my depression.
Like with Eden, I would love another chance with Becca. I miss my friend deeply. I promised myself I’d rebuild my life brick by brick if necessary, and for that to be true, Becca and Eden must be a part of it.
3
Eden
“How’s the McFerren painting coming along?” Gran calls down the phone. Pots and pans bang in the background.
“It’s getting there. I’m not sure I want to take on too many animal commissions, Gran.”
“You can’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Eden. That fella’s paying you a bloody fortune to encapsulate his ferret.”
Don’t I know it! Who the bloody hell spends thousands of pounds on a portrait of a ferret? Mr McFerren, that’s who. He’s a wealthy Scot with moremoney than sense. I don’t know how Gran finds them…but she does. McFerren is just one of a long line of clients I’ve had since starting college, thanks to my gran.
When her arthritis became so bad she couldn’t sculpt or paint, the woman took it upon herself to become somewhat of an agent. My agent. I was halfway through a lecture when I got an email from her with a list of clients who wanted to commission me for all types of paintings.
My bank account has never looked so healthy. The sales I’ve made are the reason I can afford a nice apartment. One I could pay for by myself, but I don’t want to live alone, which is why Bella, the tiny menace, is my roomie. Becca too, I guess, because she’s all but moved in.
“I know that, but I’d like some variety.” I sigh. I long for the days when my dream life was to finish college, move to a cottage by the sea and paint. I was more than happy to be a starving artist, but noooo! Gran had to make me a successful painter, didn’t she? God, the nerve.
I’m just fucking about. I’m over the moon that my work is getting recognised and that so many people want to work with me. I’m beyond fortunate to have someone as tenacious as my gran in my corner.
“Well, how’s this for variety…” she asks, and then trails off.
“What? Are you going to finish the sentence?”
She chuckles. “I just like messing with you, kid. Yes, I’m going to finish the sentence. You, my dear Eden Sawyer, have got yourself a gallery show…in London!”
My brain misfires and goes blank. There’s no way she just said I have a gallery showing. In London, right?
“Eden? Are you still there?”
“Can you repeat that, please?”
