26. Nate

26

NATE

After Eden leaves for her appointment, I clean the kitchen counters and psych myself up to reach into a beehive in the backyard. I'm no charmer like my girlfriend, so I zip into the extra-large coveralls I ordered once I decided I'm all in for the Storm Swarm company… and its owner.

I pull on my work gloves, slide the veil over my head, and march into the backyard. "Right," I address the bees, who Eden assures me are always listening. "I'm just going to check on you gals and take one of the frames, okay? I have a fresh one for you."

I grab the hive tool and use it to pry open the lid. I can hear the hum of the work inside and there is so much movement, so much collaboration inside. Eden tells me each bee has a job to do—a specific assignment to help the group. I used to wonder what would happen if one of them hated their job or felt like they inherited work that didn't fit them. But Eden says they shift roles depending on what the community needs.

I sense an affinity with them now. "Hey, guys," I whisper, sweating despite the autumn chill. "I'm going to pull out this frame now, okay?" I hold my breath as I lift the wood. It sticks a bit, but then slides up easily in my grasp. I quickly fill the gap with an empty frame I made with wood Sparky salvaged from an old barn.

I lower the lid to the hive and trot to the house with my prize, feeling proud enough to snap a selfie of me with the honey-heavy frame. I send it to Chris and Sparky, who both think I'm nuts to lend my woodworking skills to tiny creatures with stingers. I was doing some odd jobs for them, but lately I've been busy with custom builds for Storm Swarm. I ignore their teasing and slide the frame into the drum of the extractor.

Everything I assembled worked just like I imagined. Pride swells in my chest, alongside a twinge of grief. I'd love for Dad to see this—the beauty of the spinning centrifuge, the slow slosh of the honey gathering in the bottom. I grab an empty jar and line it up under the valve. I could put the stand under there, but I want to hold it, and I delight in the warmth of the honey filling the jar when I open the switch.

Satisfied and excited, I sit at the table, holding the jar of amber liquid. I grab a spoon from a drawer and taste, a moan escaping my lips at the tangy sweetness. A clatter outside pulls me from my nirvana. The mail carrier flicks a set of letters in the flap at the front door. Every day, I feel for the guy who has to not only climb around the hills of Garfield, but also has to trudge up and down the steps of each house.

There's a postcard from Emma, and I try not to growl at it. Looks like she has taken a job on a cruise ship, which at least means she'll be out at sea and away from Eden and her sisters.

I frown at one of the letters, addressed to both Eden and Eila. It's stamped from a property management company, and I pull out my phone to check the time. Eden should be done with her appointment by now, so I call her up.

"Hey," I say when she answers with a smile in her voice. "Real quick—a letter came and I think it's about the lease on your house. Okay if I open it?"

"Oh. That's weird." She sounds like she's climbing into her van. "Sure, tell me what it says."

There's a pause while I rip open the envelope and Eden tells me she did a lot of listening at therapy today. Some weeks are like that for me in my grief group. I pull out a piece of cream-colored paper and scan it.

"Oh, shit," I mutter. "Your landlord is selling the house."

"What?" Eden sounds pissed. "Can he do that?"

"Well, yeah," I explain. "He owns it and doesn't want to anymore." I think of out-of-state Kenneth buying up houses to flip. Those kinds of guys sometimes buy up a bunch of property and rent it as absentee landlords. I have to figure Eden has one of those, since she never mentions him. I can't imagine he's heavily involved in the property, given all the bees and urban agriculture going on.

An idea occurs to me. "How far away are you?"

I tell Eden I have a plan forming, and as soon as she gets home, I'll spoon-feed her fresh honey and explain it to her. The truth is, I have a long-term plan for Eden and me. I think she's on the same wavelength, and while this is faster than I would have wanted to move on it, this housing situation is a push in the right direction.

Ten minutes later, Eden bursts in the door, frazzled. "I was really feeling like I had my shit together," she says. "I made sales projections. I file my taxes. I have a hot hunk of an employee. But now I'm going to be homeless. And God, my sister's hops are next door. What landlord is going to agree to me having beehives here? This is a disaster."

Eden sinks into a chair in the kitchen. As promised, I hand her a spoonful of the amber honey.

"Oh, Nate…" she squeals. "You did it! I'm sorry. I'm over here complaining about my thing, and you did something really cool."

I set two glasses of water on the table. "Your thing is important, too. But yeah, I did what you do. I talked to them, I took the frame, I replaced the frame… I didn't get stung."

She beams with the spoon in her adorable mouth. "That's so great." She takes one more lick and a sip of water. "Okay, what are you thinking about the house?"

I rest my palms on the table. "What if I buy it?"

She blinks. "You?"

I shrug. "Yeah. I've got money from selling the business. And my dad said real estate is always a good investment. Not that he ever took his own advice."

Eden frowns. "I don't know if I want you to be my landlord."

"You're my boss. What's the difference?"

She purses her lips. "I don't know. It just seems different."

I reach for her hand, desperate to share my idea, see if she's on board. "What if I was your husband instead?"

Her eyebrows fly up. "Husband?"

I kneel on the kitchen floor, pulling her hand into mine. "I was wondering if you'd consider marrying me, Eden Storm."

She stares at me, so I continue. "You make me a better man, Eden. You inspire me and push me to be my best. I love that about you, and I want you to know I'm all in. Forever."

"Forever." Eden squeezes my hand, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "I like how that sounds, Nate."

I adjust my weight. It's getting a little uncomfortable down here, and she still hasn't given me a proper answer. I raise my brows expectantly. "So will you? Marry me?"

She grabs my cheeks and pulls my face into hers, kissing me. "Yes," she giggles into my mouth. "Yes, Nate Donovan, I will marry you."

I stand, tugging her to her feet and lifting her up, spinning her around. "Everything that's mine will be yours, too, you know. This house. The other house. All of it. This is forever for me."

Eden stares at me, and I squeeze her hands. "Gut reaction," I say. "What are you thinking?"

Her mouth drops open, and she takes a deep breath. "I was thinking… this house could be Storm Swarm Headquarters. The living room has space to package and label and really ramp up honey processing. The dining room could be your workshop." She takes in the tools piled on the built-in bookshelves in the room. "It sort of already is."

"I love that idea. We'd have to talk to Ben about zoning."

She nods. "He loves talking about zoning."

I lean forward. "And I love talking about you."

"Are we really going to get married?"

I nod and pull her into my lap. "As soon as you say the word."

Eden wrinkles her nose. "Do we have to plan a whole big thing? Esther just got married at the courthouse."

I shrug. "So we get married at the courthouse. Or the backyard. I don't care about that part. I'm here for the long haul." I kiss her forehead. "I love you. And I can't wait for you to live with me."

"I love you, too," she says. "I think we make a good team."