Garnet Flats (The Edens)

Part 4 – Round 4

You’ll never be just Talia. Not to me.

In the four days since Foster and Kadence had come to the hospital, I’d replayed his words a hundred times. A thousand. And every time, my heart ached a little less. My anger faded a little more.

Time was healing.

So were truths.

“Good night,” I told the nurse at the reception counter in the hospital’s lobby as I strode past her desk. “Have a great weekend.”

“You too, Talia,” she said with a wave.

Should I correct her? Should I ask everyone to call me Dr. Eden? No. That would only make it awkward. And for what? My pride? My ego? All I wanted was for people to trust me as their doctor. Their colleague. I didn’t need the title.

But I also wouldn’t mind it.

Funny how the only person who’d insisted on calling me Dr. Eden had been Foster. A man who knew me intimately. A man who had whispered my name while being inside my body. But he’d insisted on calling me Dr. Eden. He’d insisted Kadence do the same.

Was that why I’d kissed him? Or because when it came to Foster, I had no control?

God, that kiss. A woman could survive on a kiss like that each day. Just thinking about it made my heart flutter. Resisting him was impossible.

Foster Madden had a presence as powerful as a thunderclap.

I was the woman who’d always loved his wild storm.

What were we doing? For so many years, my next steps had been planned. The path stretched before me so long that I hadn’t worried about what was waiting at the end.

Undergrad. Med school. Residency. The end of the road was in sight. The years had passed in a blur. What next?

What about Foster?

Over and over, I’d replayed what he’d told me about Arlo. About Vegas and the fights. About being trapped. He’d said there was more to discuss. There was.

Kadence.

Foster had promised he’d never cheated on me with Vivienne. Was it foolish to believe him? For a week, I’d searched my heart for doubts and come up empty.

Who was that little girl? The better question wasn’t who . . . but whose? If not Foster, then who was her father?

I drove away from the hospital and headed downtown, parking in the lot behind the hotel beside my brother’s truck.

Knox had texted me earlier tonight to see if I wanted to eat at Knuckles. Maybe he’d heard that Lyla and I were currently not speaking to each other. Or maybe Lyla had told him about Foster.

I’d been avoiding my family for a week because I didn’t want them playing mediators between Lyla and me. But it was time to show my face, and when it came to my siblings, we all picked favorites.

Mateo was mine. But since he was currently flying planes in Alaska and relatively out of touch, I was going to my second favorite—Knox. Even though his favorite was Lyla.

I walked inside the hotel, having traded my scrubs in the locker room for jeans and a navy sweater.

Eloise was at the front desk with the phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear so she could type with both hands.

I tapped the counter and waved so she’d know I was here.

“One minute,” she mouthed.

Leaving her to finish the call, I walked to the sitting area next to the lobby’s fireplace and stood beside the hearth, soaking in its warmth.

This hotel had been in our family for generations. Mom had managed it when I was younger, working here while Dad handled the ranch. But in recent years, Eloise had claimed The Eloise as hers. Fitting.

There was a vanilla candle burning on the coffee table, the scent mingling with the fire. Smoke and sweetness. The holiday decorations had been taken down, but she’d kept the small golden lights wrapped around the windows that overlooked Main.

Eloise had probably lit this fire herself so the lobby would be cozy and welcoming on a cold January night. This was her hotel, even if her name wasn’t officially on the deed quite yet. My youngest sister had grown into one hell of a businesswoman.

Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned. Maybe Eloise could join us for dinner— My smile dropped.

Vivienne.

Seeing her was inevitable. I’d known this moment was coming. That didn’t make it easier. What was she doing here at the hotel?

“Hi.” Her voice was shaky as she stopped behind a couch.

She looked grown up. I guess I probably looked the same. Her chestnut hair was shorter than it had been in college, falling past her shoulders. Her face was just as beautiful, the features more defined. Her Chanel bag was slung over a shoulder. Her coat was from Prada. She looked stunning and rich and every bit a famous UFC fighter’s wife—ex-wife.

A flare of rage, of bitterness born from betrayal, caused my muscles to tense. I fisted my hands, my spine rigid.

She touched the leather, then took her hands away, tucking them into the pockets of her coat only to take them out again and put them back. She should be nervous. “It’s good to see you.”

I arched an eyebrow.

Foster had been blackmailed into this marriage. But what was her excuse? She’d known how much I’d loved him. How many nights had we spent in our apartment, laughing and gossiping? How many times had she teased me for having hearts in my eyes?

And she’d taken him. She’d taken my place.

Vivienne opened her mouth, then closed it, struggling for words. She might not have them, but I did.

“You were my best friend. I told you more than I told my twin sister. I loved you. How could you?” Without waiting for her answer, I strode from the fireplace, keeping my eyes locked on Eloise still at the front desk.

“Talia, please.” Vivienne stepped closer, her hand stretching out.

I shied away, not wanting her to touch me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is sorry these days,” I said.

“No one more than Foster.” Her shoulders fell. “He’s always loved you. Always. He regretted everything that happened. Hate me if you need to. But not him.”

“Defending your husband?” I hated that she could claim that title.

“Please let me explain.”

“Everyone has apologies and explanations. I’m so sick of explanations that come seven years too late. Fuck you.”

Her pretty face paled.

Damn it. An icky feeling crept beneath my skin. I wasn’t mean. I didn’t like being mean. So it was time to go because I was angry, and I’d say things that would only make us both feel worse.

“I was pregnant,” Vivienne blurted.

So much for my escape. I faced her, crossing my arms over my chest. “Obviously. I met your daughter.”

Vivienne stepped closer, glancing over her shoulder toward the door before lowering her voice. “Kadence isn’t . . . she isn’t Foster’s biological child.”

Relief. Sweet relief that my guess hadn’t been wrong. That Foster hadn’t cheated. But who? If not Foster, then who? It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I kept my lips locked together.

“Kadence doesn’t know,” Vivienne said. “She doesn’t need to know. Foster is her dad. She loves him. He loves her. And he loves you. If you still have feelings for him, please give him a second chance.”

The pleading in her eyes made me uncross my arms.

“He used to talk about you,” she said. “All the time. Especially in those early years. Talia this and Talia that. It was like he wanted to say things out loud so he wouldn’t forget how much you liked strawberry ice cream or having Bravo on in the background while you studied. How you’d only wear his T-shirts to bed and hum along with the hair dryer.”

Foster had talked about me while I’d tried my hardest not to even think his name.

“I’d get so jealous,” Vivienne said.

“Because you were in love with him.”

“No.” She scoffed. “No offense, but gross. Foster is my best friend in the world but he might as well be my brother. Maybe if I hadn’t known that he’d already given you his heart, that would be different. But it never was. I don’t love him.”

“Then why were you jealous?”

“Because he will love you for his entire life. Whether you forgive him or not. That’s why I’m jealous.”

A lump formed in my throat. “He broke me.”

Vivienne nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what my father did. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize the monster in him sooner. I’m sorry for my role in it too and not pushing harder to change the situation. I’m so sorry, Talia. I wish we could go back. Do better. But that’s why he’s here. To fix our mistakes.”

She loved him. Maybe not a romantic love, but the love of family. She would plead Foster’s case, drop to her knees and beg, because she loved him.

She’d had years to love him. To be his friend. Vivienne knew him better than I did. She wasn’t the only one who was jealous.

“Hey.” Eloise appeared at my side, a smile on her face.

I tore my gaze from Vivienne and hugged my sister. “Hi.”

“What’s up?” She glanced between Vivienne and me, probably trying to figure out why I was talking to her. Maybe Vivi was a guest here again.

“Just chatting,” I said. “I’m having dinner at Knuckles.”

“Oh, fun.” Eloise pointed toward the reception counter. “I’m manning the front desk for a few more hours, otherwise I’d join you.”

“I’ll bring you a dessert,” I told her, then cast one last glance at Vivienne.

She had tears in her eyes. Maybe she’d thought an apology would erase the past. Maybe she was right. But not tonight.

So I took a step away, walking with Eloise to the desk, where I left her to work while I continued to Knuckles.

Knox’s restaurant was bustling, like it was most Friday nights. Conversation and laughter filled the room from wall to wall as I followed the waitress to a booth Knox had reserved for me. The dark and moody atmosphere fit my own.

“Can I get you anything besides water to drink?” she asked.

“Wine. Red. Any red in any big, big glass.”

She laughed. “You got it, Talia.”

“Thanks.” I stripped off my coat and slid into the booth, sinking into the seat and closing my eyes.

Too harsh. I’d been too harsh to Vivienne. Though I wasn’t the one who’d married her best friend’s boyfriend.

The table shifted and I opened my eyes, expecting my brother.

But it was Foster who took the opposite side of the booth. My heart leapt. It always leapt, the traitorous organ.

“What are you doing?”

He answered by plucking the wine list from where it was propped against the brick wall.

“Foster,” I drawled.

“Talia.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Were Vivienne and Kadence nearby?

“They went out to dinner together. Vivienne is visiting for the weekend before she heads back to Vegas.”

“And you’re not joining them?”

“Nope.”

The waitress returned with my wine, startled by Foster’s presence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Knox said he was eating with you tonight.”

“He is—”

“Not.” Foster gave her his most charming smile. “Change of plan. I’ll have red wine too. Whatever Talia’s having.”

“Foster,” I warned, but he ignored me.

“What is your special tonight?” he asked the waitress.

She rattled it off, then after he ordered one for us both, she left us alone, probably to inform Knox that I had a date.

“You’re exhausting.” I took a long gulp from my wineglass.

He smirked, reaching across the table to take my free hand in his. “Vivienne said you talked.”

“I was mean to her.” Shit. “And now I feel guilty.”

“She’ll be okay.” His thumb stroked my knuckles. “What did she tell you?”

“She told me about Kadence.”

“Good.” He sighed, like that was the answer he’d hoped I’d give. “It was important to her that she be the one to tell you.”

“Why?”

He threaded his fingers through mine, staring at them like he’d forgotten what it looked like to have our hands intertwined. “We both have regrets. Vivi carries a lot of guilt because it was her dad who put us in this position.”

“What happened with her and Arlo?” Vivi had called him a monster in the lobby, but when I’d lived in Vegas, she’d adored him. “She said she was pregnant. Who is—”

“Me. I am Kadence’s father. She is mine.” There was an edge to Foster’s voice before he swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “And she is not mine.”

The waitress appeared at that moment, delivering Foster’s glass of wine. He nodded his thanks, then took a sip. All while he kept his hand clasped with mine.

I didn’t try to take it away. At the moment, he looked like he needed it.

“Vivienne was five months pregnant when you left. When Arlo blackmailed me after that fight.”

“Five months?” I searched my memories for any signs. She hadn’t been showing, which was normal that early with a first pregnancy. And Vivienne’s style had trended toward boho chic with flowy tops and layered pieces. I couldn’t remember her being sick. I couldn’t remember her dating anyone.

“She was seeing a guy. They met at the gym, but I didn’t know him. I guess he came in and out, was there for a short time. Probably because it was a well-known fact that if anyone touched Arlo’s daughter, they were dead.”

“It was?”

“Oh, yeah.” Foster huffed. “Only a guy with a death wish would have chased Vivi at Angel’s. Arlo wanted that to be her safe place. If anyone looked at her too long, one of us would run the guy off.”

“But not this one.”

Foster shook his head. “She kept it quiet, and he stopped coming to the gym. She said it was casual, mostly they’d meet and hook up. Then she got pregnant. Got scared. She wasn’t sure how to tell anyone, including this guy. I guess he’d made some comments about not wanting kids.”

“Oh.” Vivienne had been going through all of that while we’d been living together. What kind of friend was I that I hadn’t noticed? “She didn’t say a thing to me.”

“She kept it a secret from everyone. I think she was working up the courage to tell this guy first. She went over to his place one night to tell him but walked into a bad situation. This guy had a roommate. The roommate’s girl was mouthy. Vivi said she was a lot of drama. Vivienne heard this commotion in the apartment, so she peeked inside. Her guy and his roommate were taking turns punching and kicking this woman.”

I gasped. “Oh my God.”

“Vivienne went straight to Arlo. It was the week of my fight.”

“It was because of the baby that she married you, wasn’t it?” I’d assumed she’d been in love with him.

“Vivi’s guy was in a gang.”

“What gang?”

“The kind where members end up dead more often than not. The kind with close connections to drug cartels.”

I gaped. “And Vivienne didn’t know?”

Foster shook his head. “Not a clue. Not until after Arlo laid it out. When she told him she was pregnant and told him what she saw at that apartment, Arlo went ballistic.”

“And that’s when he decided you were going to get married.”

“Yeah. He had me by the balls. So he just kept twisting. Arlo wanted Vivienne safe. He wanted her to have money. Security. And yeah, she could have moved in with him. Arlo could have watched out for her. But why, when I was a long-term solution with enough earning potential for her, the baby, and him on top? He wanted his daughter married to the man of his choosing. He saw her fear and the chance to take control, so he capitalized on it.”

“Why would Vivienne agree?” She could have told Arlo to go to hell and not married Foster.

“She was terrified. She wanted to keep the baby. And Arlo, that manipulative son of a bitch, took everything he knew about that gang and threw it in her face. Made sure she wasn’t just scared, but petrified. Told her that if she didn’t marry me, this guy might figure it out. Might try to hurt her before she could have the baby. That the best way to avoid it was to make the world think this kid was mine.”

The cost? My heart. “Do you think it was true? Do you think this guy would have hurt her?”

“Maybe. More importantly, Vivienne believed it. So she went along with her father’s wishes. Arlo knew I’d never hurt Vivi. He knew I could provide for her, and if I was his son-in-law, it was just another way to shove those hooks deeper into my spine.”

“And the guy from the gang? What about him?”

“A month before Kadence was born, he showed at the gym looking for Vivi. He was stoned out of his damn mind. Reeked of booze. I told him I married her. Lied and said we’d been hooking up for years.”

“He believed you?”

Foster shrugged. “We never saw him again. About two years ago, Arlo came to the gym with an obituary.”

“He died.”

Foster nodded. “Two gunshot wounds to the chest.”

I tensed. “Who knows about this?”

“Me. Vivi. Jasper. Arlo.” He blew out a long breath. “And you. I’d like to keep that list as short as possible.”

Because Kadence was his daughter and he wouldn’t lose her.

“Someday Kaddie will need to know,” he said. “But even then, it won’t change the fact that I’m her father. She is my daughter.”

“She is your daughter.” Just like Drake was Knox’s son, even if it wasn’t Eden blood in Drake’s veins. He was ours. Like Kadence was Foster’s.

“So Arlo convinced Vivienne to marry you,” I said. “But if that guy believed you and disappeared, why didn’t you get your marriage annulled? Or why not after her ex died? Why did she stay married to you?”

“Arlo never let either of us forget the cards he was holding. He reminded Vivienne that he’d ruin my career if we got divorced. He’d paint me as a criminal, and since Kadence isn’t mine, he’d file a custody suit to take her away. Claim that Vivienne was unfit.”

“Could he do that?”

Foster shrugged. “It would have been bullshit, and we would have fought it. But it would have been a fucking mess regardless. And the person who would have suffered the most was—”

“Kadence.”

“Yeah.” He gave me a sad smile. “Vivienne and I weren’t willing to risk her happiness simply to test Arlo. He never let go of the strings. Every year he just wound them tighter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Besides ruining me, he never let me forget what he could do to you.”

My eyes bugged out. “Me? I was gone.”

“Maybe from Las Vegas.” Foster tapped his heart. “But not here. Arlo saw it plain as day. I couldn’t risk it.”

So Foster and Vivienne had played into Arlo’s hands. Everyone had stayed quiet until the day he’d died.

My head was spinning again. Swirling around the truth, trying to make sense of what I’d convinced myself since leaving Vegas. Maybe there had been a better way. A path that wouldn’t have been so hard for us all.

Would I have done differently in Vivienne’s place? Or Foster’s?

There was no way to know.

“I don’t know what to say to all of this.” Maybe I should have been livid. But damn, I was tired of being angry. I was tired of being hurt and confused. I didn’t have the energy for any of it tonight. “I wish you had told me.”

“What if we forgot?” Foster asked, his thumb caressing my hand. “What if we forgot the past? What if we forgot the world, just for tonight?”

“I’d like to forget. Just for tonight.” The words slipped past my lips. The smile that stretched across Foster’s face made them worth it.

The waitress appeared, two plates in hand with Knox’s famous cheeseburgers and fries. She set them down, forcing Foster to release my hand. “Anything else?” she asked.

“Ranch,” Foster said. “Please.”

He didn’t like ranch. But I did.

I grabbed the bottle of ketchup, twisting open the cap, just as Foster lifted the tomatoes off his plate and put them on mine. “You could have ordered it without tomatoes.”

“But you like them.” He didn’t. But I did. “Do you remember our first date?”

I laughed. “You mean the time you ambushed me at my favorite diner? Your tactics haven’t changed.”

“It worked for me then.” He chuckled, the light in his eyes dancing. “Figured, why not try again?”

We’d been flirting at Angel’s for months. It had gone on so long that I’d begun to think I’d misread everything between us because Foster hadn’t once hinted at a date.

Instead, he’d just taken it. In true Foster fashion.

He’d found out from Vivienne that I liked to study at this fifties-themed diner not far from our apartment. The booths were spacious. It was rarely busy. And even though the smell of grease would stick in my hair so badly I’d have to shower whenever I got home, the scent reminded me of home. Of coming home from school to find Mom in the kitchen, frying burgers for dinner because Dad always said he could eat a cheeseburger for every meal for the rest of his life and die a happy man.

Foster had slid into my booth at that diner one night, exactly like he had tonight, and we’d talked for hours. We’d been nearly inseparable from that moment on.

“I want to start over, Tally.”

It sounded so easy. So simple. Foster and me, starting fresh. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Unless you’re afraid to try.”

“Are you baiting me?”

Foster smiled, arrogant and assured. “Is it working?”

I fought a smile and took a drink of my wine. Maybe. Maybe it was.