The Sexpert

It rings, then goes to voicemail. No. Wait. It’s not voicemail. It’s a message.

And it says… This number is not accepting calls at this time.

Because she blocked me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE – EDEN

Zoey hugs me hard the moment I step into her apartment. I’ve stopped crying. I cried the whole way back to my apartment to pack up a bag, and then all the way over here in my truck.

So now… I’m just tired.

She still doesn’t know what happened and she doesn’t ask, either. Doesn’t need to ask. Doesn’t even need to know. All she needs to know is that I need her and all I need to know is that she’s here for me.

I drop my overnight bag on the floor in her front foyer and then flop onto her couch and pull a pillow into my lap as I stare mindlessly out the window.

She goes about her day, leaving me alone, but still paying attention. She makes me a grilled cheese sandwich and I pick at it as she feeds baby Stevie his pureed sweet potatoes. Then she does laundry and plays patty-cake, and does some web design.

I just sit and run the past twenty-four hours through my head over and over again.

How he embarrassed me last night.

How he put me on the spot this morning.

How I humiliated myself by making a stupid speech in front of two hundred people and then quit my job.

“I quit my job,” I say softly.

“What?” Zoey is washing sippy cups in the sink, which faces the living room, so she’s looking right at me when I say it.

“Yup.” I nod. And then the whole story spills out. And when I get to the part where I walk out of the auditorium, she smiles. “Why are you smiling?” I ask. “This is horrible!”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Is it? I mean, it’s not what we planned, that’s for sure. But since when does life go according to plan?”

We both look over at Stevie, who fell asleep in his baby swing. He’s sucking his thumb looking very innocent and adorable.

“I can’t say my life is on track either but… but it’s a nice life.”

I smile at her. And it’s not even forced. “You’re a good mom.”

“Shit.” She laughs. “I’m adequate. But one day, Eden, one day, if things go as planned, he’s gonna be old enough to know about this Sexpert stuff. And then… well, when that day comes all I can say is I did my best, ya know?” She shrugs. “We’re just doing our best, that’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I lied to him,” I say. “He takes that stuff kinda personally.”

“Sure. OK. I get it. But that’s his deal, Eden. Not yours. You don’t owe him anything and if he made you think you did… well, he’s wrong, babe. He’s just wrong.” She sets her half-clean sippy cup down, wipes her hands on a dish towel, and walks over to the couch to plop down beside me. “You’re practically strangers, Eden. It was a brand-new relationship that happened on the wrong day, that’s all it was. That’s all. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just life.”

I nod my head, because it makes sense. I mean… everything that happened was just one long weird coincidence.

“But I feel… I feel really, really bad, Zoey. And I have no job.” I pout my lips.

“Hey,” she says. “You didn’t like that job anyway. And we’ve still got the Pink Lady offer. We’re totally on track for success, you’ll see.”

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, so I reach over, hoping—for just a second—that it’s Andrew. But then I remember I blocked him.

“Who is it?”

“Myrtle,” I say, reading her text. “She says to turn on Channel 9. Oh, God…” Because I can see where this is going. Those cameras were there for a reason. “Don’t,” I say.

But Zoey is already reaching for the remote.

Channel 9 is showing the footage. And there’s a headline at the bottom that says, Sexpert reveals herself. Local girl working for Le Man magazine.

“Well, that’s just perfect. Now my dad is gonna know.”

And then, like life is conspiring against me, my phone rings. And you guessed it, it’s my dad.

“I better take this,” I say, getting up from the couch and heading for the bedroom. “Hey, Dad,” I say, once I accept his call.

“Hey, cupcake,” he says. “How’s life?”

I start crying immediately and it’s like my whole day is on repeat as I recount the story again. My dad, to his credit, just listens patiently. Lets me get it all out. Lets me have all the feelings I’m feeling. And when I’m done talking he says, “Well, your life has gotten quite exciting since you moved out.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?” he asks.

“Um… for being the Sexpert?”

“Shortcake, you don’t need to explain your life to me. You’re a grown woman. You’re smart, beautiful, innovative. Always have been. You don’t have to explain your decisions. I’m your dad. I’ll be here no matter what you do.”