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17. Eden

17

EDEN

Sleeping with Nate—and then sleeping over with Nate—felt so natural. I already can't imagine life without his scratchy cheek against my shoulder while I'm falling asleep. Being taken care of is so intoxicating it takes me a few days to realize I'm letting myself be pampered.

The man makes me food. I see now why Esther keeps Koa around.

I skip everything but work, even family dinner, and spend the week with Nate, curled up on his couch with our laptops or watching fireflies from the overgrown pedestrian stairs in Bloomfield. I think about how easy this feels, how pleasant, and I remember what it looked like when Esther finally opened up to Koa. She said something like she thought she was protecting herself by not letting anyone in, but she never realized she was missing out on an explosive reaction when two people really connect.

I see it now, enjoying the ravine behind the Bloomfield pool, at the landscape strangled by knotweed. Nate weaves his fingers into my hair, and I don't feel smothered. I feel rooted.

It's kind of a pain driving to Nate's house every evening after work, but there's no way I'm going to invite him to sleep over while my mother is staying with me.

It's a problem. I just don't know how to do anything about it. She's not even paying me rent, and I'm the furthest thing from comfortable in my own home. Plus, I keep waking up extra early at Nate's because I need to rush home and make sure Mom isn't doing anything to the bees. Not that she is awake when I get there.

Apart from that, I spend a perfect week working on my beeswax cosmetics during the day, eating dinner with Nate, having orgasms with Nate, and then sleeping in his cozy bed, enjoying his air conditioning and snuggly presence all night. He hasn't really agreed to co-work on admin stuff for our businesses again, but I've been chipping away at my to-do list while he watches the Black Sox lose. Apparently, Pittsburgh hasn't had a good baseball team in decades.

But when Monday rolls around, I'm faced with the decision if I'm going to bring him to family dinner with my sisters. I'm already laden with guilt over sneaking out, so Mom doesn't ask where I'm headed and crash the party. Esther has been very clear Mom's not welcome at our sacred sister meals.

What does it mean if I bring Nate? What does it mean if I don't? I smack the snooze button on my phone and lie in his arms, worrying.

"What's up?" he asks, his chest rumbling beneath my ear. "You seem restless."

I roll to face him. "How can you tell?"

He chuckles. "You're literally wriggling around, and I'm not catching vibes from you that you're looking to get frisky this morning."

"Is it really morning?" I peek at the crack between the curtains, worried I set my alarm for PM or something. The sky is just barely turning gray. I realize we are heading fast toward autumn and less daylight. Late fall and winter are much slower times for me. I could deliberately save up my admin stuff for the winter months when I don't have as much hands-on work with the hives and the honey.

"It's morning enough." Nate stretches. "What's bugging you? Want to tell me while I make the coffee?" He stands next to the bed, naked, scratching himself. It shouldn't be sexy but sort of is. He's so comfortable with me. It's vulnerable, and I really like it.

As he bends to pull on a pair of shorts, I blurt, "Will you have dinner with me and my family tonight? Not my mom. My sisters. At Eliza's house. There will be goats."

His mouth crooks in a grin. "Of course. What should I bring?"

I wave a hand. "Oh, you can't bring anything there. The goats will eat whatever it is. They're absolute monsters. Although… they're supposed to be out on job sites. Hmm."

Nate walks down the stairs, shouting over his shoulder. "You're going to need to tell me more about this goat business."

I follow him, tugging one of his t-shirts over my head as I pad barefoot to his kitchen. He turns, coffeepot in hand, and his mouth drops open. "Is that my shirt?"

I nod. He sets the pot on the counter and strides over to me, surprising me with a fierce kiss. "You look really freaking hot in my shirt." He slides a hand around my back and lifts the hem. "Just the shirt? Christ, Eden."

I rest my palms on his chest. As always, he's warm, and I rub my fingers in the fuzzy blond hairs above his heart. "You're easy to impress."

He shakes his head. "Everything about you is so impressive."

The coffeemaker beeps. "Shit. I didn't add the water." As he rushes to get caught up, I text him my sister's address. By the time I leave to get to work, I've promised to wear his shirt to dinner and compromised that I'd be wearing shorts and a bra with the ensemble, at least until he gets me back to his house.

I arrive at Eliza's early since I was dropping a case of beeswax salve at a shop near her house. Her property gives a little supernatural vibe; one minute, I'm driving through neighborhoods and past hospitals and bars, and the next, I'm creeping along an unpaved road, and electric fence and companion donkey greeting me. Eliza's in the city, but she had vacant lots on either side of the shitty house she bought. Once she owned the whole parcel, she had enough land to legally keep goats.

"Hey, Chiron," I say as I park. Eliza's evil donkey approaches the fence, which isn't buzzing, so I risk leaning in to pet the little gray menace.

My sister's head appears from the shed by her house. "Oh good. You're early. Would you rather muck out the shed or get the pasta started for me?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm not shoveling poop for you. Also I'm bringing someone to dinner, so I'm putting in an extra box of noodles."

"Someone, eh?" She waggles her brows. "Does this someone have a history of making bad choices?"

"Can you not? We have something really good going on."

She flaps a hand at me, and I make my way inside. Eliza's house, like mine, has seen better days. Many of the older houses in Pittsburgh are brick, but she's got one with wood siding that appears to have been gnawed on by livestock. Inside, she's refinished the hardwood floors and fixed the original kitchen, so it's like some sort of farmhouse people would see in a movie about pioneer times.

I get the gas stove lit with a pack of matches from Esther's bar and hum to myself while I chop veggies. Eliza left detailed notes on the counter for her meal plans, so it's not too hard to get the grilled chicken cubed pretty quickly while I boil the noodles. She set out a dressing for the pasta salad and I love that my sister topped the jar with one of my beeswax-cloth malleable coverings. I set a hand over the top to give the dressing a shake, then carry the whole cauldron of pasta salad to the table and glance out the dining-room window.

I freeze, seeing Nate out there in his toolbelt, talking over his shoulder to Eliza as he… fixes her shed.

I step out the back door and shout over the braying Chiron. "What are you two doing?"

Eliza smiles, walking closer so she doesn't have to yell at me over the noise of Nate's power drill. "Your boyfriend is fixing the gate to the pen. The girls have been getting out more than they ought to. There was actually a meme going around from when Persephone was munching dandelions at Fowler playground."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Can you please not call him my boyfriend?"

Eliza reaches for me and tugs at Nate's shirt, that I'm still wearing. She flaps the material around like she's waving a flag. "So this is your giant shirt? Not something you'd borrow from a boyfriend?"

I swat her hands away and tie the shirt in a knot. "Shut it. Don't call him that or the other thing. Can we just call him Nate and let him be a guest? I can't believe you put him to work."

She throws her hands up. "Woah now. He offered. He pulled up in that sexy truck, gave a wave, and then Chiron smashed through the fence to lick his face. It was super cute. I took a video."

I want to see that video, but I also want to make sure Nate isn't freaked out. I walk outside, gingerly avoiding small piles of goat poop in the yard. Esther shows up with Koa and Eva in tow, and soon, Eila and Ben arrive. There's a whole row of Storms just watching my unaware boyf— Nate bent over, tightening screws.

My feet carry me toward him unbidden. "That should do it," he says, giving his drill a cute twirl before tucking it in the loop on his toolbelt. He turns, muttering something about the triangle placement on the gate being sturdier, but he notices his audience and halts in place. "Oh." He waves. "Hi."

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