Page 86 of One Last Encore

"I own both apartments," Eden chimed in, scooping up a bite of mashed potatoes. "Ingrid rents hers from me."

Ingrid had been renting Eden’s apartment for years. After returning from France, she knew she couldn’t move back into her dad’s place. Too many memories lurking in the furniture, too much emotional booby-trapping in every corner. Eden’sapartment had seemed like the ideal escape: familiar, cozy, safe. At the time, it felt right.

They’d even drawn up their "lease" on the back of a diner napkin, giggling between bites of pancakes like it was a sleepover, not a legally binding agreement. Oh, how naive. Present Ingrid wanted to time-travel back, grab past Ingrid by the shoulders, and yell, "Look at the mess you’re in now, genius! Living next to your emotionally hazardous, smoking hot ex-boyfriend like it's not a recipe for total psychological torture!"

"Oh, well that’s not awkward at all," Sadie deadpanned, taking a long, slow sip of her wine.

"Not one bit. I've always dreamed of living next to my ex-boyfriend," Ingrid said, her sarcasm practically dripping onto the table.

"I’m glad we’re on the same page, babe," Beck shot back smoothly, winking as he casually helped himself to the cranberry sauce. Ingrid glared, mentally weighing the pros and cons of launching a bread roll at his head.

Sensing the rising tension, Sadie clapped her hands together. "Aaaanyway," she said, grinning. "Who wants to hear about the absolute disaster that is Ronan’s and my parents’ visiting Ireland with our Granddad? Let’s just say Guinness and donkey rides do not mix well."

Ronan, still scrolling through his phone, let out a low chuckle. "We’re getting live updates," he said, flipping his screen toward the group.

On the display was a video of their dad, absolutely caked in mud, looking deeply betrayed and standing in the middle of a field, surrounded by a very unimpressed herd of donkeys.

CHAPTER 24

INGRID. THANKSGIVING, PRESENT

After dinner, an aggressive game ofCatanhad taken over the living room. Quentin was currently lording over the board like a medieval tyrant, while Ronan looked two seconds away from flipping the whole thing over.

Eden and Ingrid, both ruthlessly betrayed and eliminated early, had taken their defeat maturely by abandoning the game entirely and retreating to the fire escape with a blanket and a bottle of wine.

"It’s always the quiet ones," Eden muttered, glaring through the window at Quentin. "That man smiled so sweetly while stealing my longest road. I trusted him, Ingrid."

"I told you," Ingrid said, shaking her head. "He’s freakishly competitive. Like if a golden retriever decided to major in finance and ruin lives for sport."

Eden sighed dramatically. "Ronan’s the same way. He once made a seven-year-old cry during Uno."

"Honestly? I respect it."

They clinked their glasses in solemn agreement.

Ingrid stole another glance inside. Beck sat at her dining table, casually trading wheat for brick like he wasn’t single-handedly sabotaging her sanity with that stupidly perfect smile. Having him here, laughing with her friends, felt weird like watching two completely separate parts of her life crash into each other. And yet, somehow, nothing had exploded.

Eden smirked. "Sooo… how’s the whole ‘awkwardly living next to your very hot ex’ situation going?"

"Like a house on fire," Ingrid deadpanned. "But like, actually on fire. With no exits. And the fire department is just outside, roasting marshmallows. And I’ve only seen him twice… well three times if you count tonight"

"Oof. So, not great." Eden winced. "It’s been two months, Ingrid. I’ve seen my nail tech more than you’ve seen your next-door neighbor."

Ingrid groaned. "Well, he doesn’t make it easy. He’s still the same guy I fell in love with, except now he’s older, wiser, and somehow even hotter. Which is honestly just rude."

Eden gasped. "How dare he grow as a person?! You should definitely hold that against him forever."

"Exactly!" Ingrid waved a hand. "He’s being all…Beck, and it’s making it really hard to pretend I don’t still have feelings for him."

Eden arched a brow. "You don’t have to pretend, you know."

Ingrid leaned back against the railing with a groan. "Ugh. What if I just… talked to him about the breakup? Like, actually unpacked the five years of emotional baggage?"

Eden’s eyes widened in mock shock. "Wow. Revolutionary. Next thing you’ll tell me is you’re planning to use your words like a functional adult."

Ingrid shot her a look, but couldn’t help the small laugh. Then Eden’s voice softened.

"I’ve gotten to know him over the past three years on tour. He’s solid, Ingrid. He’s been doing the work."

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