Fallout

The team finds out Graham and I were together…at his house…late at night.

Yeah, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Not happy at all, the Comets pay off the photographer by buying all the damning pics. Jock is chastised, and Graham and I are warned that if anything like that ever happens again, even once, legal action will be brought against us.

And it won’t be pretty.

They also threaten to take my money.

They don’t, but I know I can’t push them.

There’s no more getting around it—Graham and I must truly stay apart.

There’ll be no more sneaking around. No more fun plans. No more making light of this.

It’s simply too dangerous.

Clearly opportunistic “eyes” are everywhere, ready and willing to out us to make a buck.

With all this in mind, Graham and I make the hard decision to not even text or talk.

In our final phone conversation, he tells me, “We’ll just figure it all out once the season is over.”

I have no choice but to agree.

“Okay, but know I’ll miss you.” I start choking up.

Graham’s not doing much better.

In a ragged voice, he proclaims, “I’ll miss you too, Eden. This is going to blow.”

I can’t stay on the phone: I’ll lose it completely if I do, and I want to be strong for him.

So I wrap up with, “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.”

We disconnect then, and I sit on my ratty sofa in my cramped apartment, bawling my eyes out.

I do the same thing the next day, and the one after that.

My plan is to stay inside indefinitely, marinating in sadness, but then Brad from the diner calls.

“Hey, you want to pick up a shift tonight?” he asks.

I took a couple of weeks off after the phony breakup, for appearances sake. But it’s the perfect timing for a return. I checked online a few minutes ago and what I found has me upset all over again.

Wiping my eyes, I say, “Yes, I think it’s time to get back to my old life, the one I had before Graham.”

Brad murmurs, “I’m sorry, Eden,” and I know he’s seen the same article I just did.

“I take it you heard the team news today?” I say.

The Comets wasted no time in damage repair, I guess just in case their buyout of the photographer didn’t work. In the local newspaper, both in print and online, there’s a huge article about Graham and how he is now Columbus’s number one eligible bachelor.

It brought everything back home—how we can’t be together, how they’ll probably fix him up with a ton of girls now, how this is the biggest mess.

I choke out a sob, and Brad says, “Eden, I know it’s not much, but please know we’re still here for you at the diner.”

I feel bad that I can’t be honest with him, but how would that work?

I’d have to explain that my fake relationship with Graham became real, and how our real breakup is actually a fake. But that it feels real every time it hits me that I can’t just pick up the phone and text or call my man. Nor can I see him.

So is he really even my man anymore?

I just don’t know.

All I do know is that my head is spinning. And I can’t share that with Brad. The team would have my ass, and I’m already in enough trouble with them.

“Ugh.” I run my fingers through my in-need-of-a-wash hair. “Yes, definitely put me down for that shift tonight.”

“Great. Can you come in at five?”

“Yes.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready to once again face the world. I shower and dress in my teal waitress uniform, and then I’m off.

At the diner, everyone is super nice. No one brings up Graham, but there’s pity in their eyes when they look at me. To them, I’m the girl who had a chance to break out of a miserable life and blew it.

I didn’t, though, I long to scream. Graham and I will be back together once the season ends.

Since I can’t exactly share that, I put on a happy face. I’m super cheerful with everyone, and truth is, I do feel better as the night wears on.

I start joking with Brad and the other waitresses, and soon it’s like old times.

But then I’m in the back with Noreen, picking up orders that just came up, when she suddenly gasps.

“Oh hell, Eden,” she hisses. “Don’t turn around.”

My back is to the dining room, so I heed her warning.

But I do ask, “Why not?”

Frowning, she says, “Are you still pretending to be a smoker? Do you have any cigarettes on you?”

I shake my head, confused. “No. Why?”

“It’s just now might be a good time to ask for a break and go out back. I’ll take those orders out for you.”

“Okay,” I laugh, “now I have to turn around.”

I do, and instantly wish I hadn’t.

But I can’t unsee what’s right there in my face—Graham is here with another woman.

And it’s not Bunny.

It’s an even prettier woman, one who kind of looks like…me.

“What the fuck!”

“Now stay calm, Eden,” Noreen warns.

“Like I have a choice,” I grind out.

Even though I know this has to be a team-sanctioned fake date, it bugs me that this new girl looks so similar to me.

And why would Graham bring her to the diner?

I realize then that the team probably told him where to go. Coming to the diner is their attempt to shove it in my face, to make it clear that they’re in charge.

Bastards!

Noreen grabs my arm. “Yikes, they just sat down in your section. Don’t worry, though, I’ll cover for you.”

No, no, no. The fucking team will not win.

I ask Noreen, “Can you still take my orders to my other tables?”

“Yes, sure. Eden. But what are you up to?”

Grabbing the coffeepot, I explain, “I’m going to wait on Graham and his date.”

Noreen looks unconvinced that this is a good idea and says worriedly, “Are you sure you want to do that, Eden?”

As I stomp off, I throw out over my shoulder, “Absolutely.”