Page 77 of Scoring Eden

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m doing it.” His answer comes so quickly I suspect the opposite is true.

“I didn’t suggest it was.” I smirk, admiring a cherry-blossom tree through the window.

At long last, winter has bloomed into spring, and the temperature is finally lifting. It’s been a few days now since it last rained, and the sun beats down on us from a clear, blue sky.

Alex takes his eyes off the road to look at me a little too long. “You look really pretty today.”

I tug on the hem of my pink thigh-length dress with a fluttering heart. The neckline cuts across my breasts, not low enough to reveal more than I’m comfortable with, but enough to show the shape of them and the deep crevice in the middle. The short sleeves are laced with bows, and the skirt is three tiers of ruffle. Around my shoulders, I wear a thin-knit white cardigan, because though it may be sunny out, the wind is still harsh.

I haven’t worn something so short since I was a teenager. My ex-husband did a number on my self-esteem, and motherhood changed me in ways I never anticipated, so I’ve spent the last ten years hiding my figure under unflattering clothes.

There’s a strange phenomenon that happens when you become a mother. A shift in your identity and sense of self. A fuse trips in the brain, and suddenly, you are fundamentally and unrecognizably different.

I haven’t thought much about the version of myself that I used to be. Until now, I’ve been living moment to moment, paycheck to paycheck, so I haven’t really had the time to reflect on the woman I lost along the way.

She was, as Aspen would say, someone who lived in July. She was the sort of person to catch pneumonia from dancing in a rainstorm without a jacket, to order a milkshake with every possible flavor, and kiss boys underneath the bleachers just because she could. She was rebellious and spontaneous. Truth be told, I miss her. And though I can never be that girl again—nor would I want to, because as fun as she was, she was terribly irresponsible—I hope that, one day, she’ll come out of her hiding place to walk beside the woman I am today.

“What are you thinking about?” Alex watches me from the driver’s side.

He’s unbuckled his seatbelt and is twisted sideways in his seat to give me his full attention. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize the car had stopped, parked up on a light-colored resin driveway.

Telling him the truth feels a little too vulnerable right now, so I opt for something else. “Sebastian messaged me last night.”

His jaw tightens. “What did he say?”

“Something about a photo of me outside my apartment.” He looks down at his lap with his lip caught between his teeth. A blatant display of guilt if I ever saw one. “You already knew?”

Remorseful eyes find mine. “I asked my lawyer to stop the photos from being released, but he could only block the ones that show Macon’s face. There was nothing we could do about the ones they had of you.”

Something warms in my heart. The memory of that day has been scarred into my mind, and the shame I feel over Macon having to deal with the consequences of my decisions has been an unbearable weight in my gut. So, I don’t care if there are photographs of me online for the world to see, no matter how unflattering they are. I only care that Macon is safe.

“I don’t know what to say.”

His gaze dips again. “Are you mad at me for not telling you?”

“No.” I think about that. “Well, not right now, at least. I just can’t believe you went to so much effort to protect Macon.”

He shrugs. “I look after the people I care about.”

Yeah, I’m starting to see that now.

Done with the conversation, Alex reaches across the console to release my seatbelt. Then he slips out of the car, jogs around it to my side, and opens the door for me. “My lady.”

“You know”—I take his outstretched hand—“if you weren’t so anti-relationships, you’d make an incredible boyfriend to someone.”

“Are you saying I’m not an incredible boyfriend now?”

“You know what I mean. A real one.”

The thought sends a spike of jealousy through my heart. One day, he’ll be doing all these things for someone else. Protecting them, opening their doors, kissing them with more passion than she will have ever known before, and looking at them as if they are the center of his entire universe. All the things he’s done for me. But for her…it will be real.

I hope that whoever she turns out to be will know exactly how lucky she is.

“So, what do you think?” Alex waves his hand at the building in front of us, and I realize I was too busy looking at him to have noticed it at all.

It didn’t even register that we’re standing on the bank of Lake Washington, the water a deep shade of blue and dappled with sunlight. The house looks proudly over it, four stories of cedar cladding and black Georgian framed windows. A large front door made completely of glass opens to reveal a smartly dressed woman in her thirties, wearing red-soled stilettos and a warm smile.

“Mr. Wolfe, thank you for trusting me with finding you both a property.” She shakes our hands. “Imani Juma. You must be Eden.”