Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Willa
“You’re taking me to the rooftop garden?” Archer asks.
I stop on the stairs, my hand falling limp in his as I turn back to face him. I’m a step above as I’ve been basically dragging him, so now we’re eye to eye. “You’ve already been up here?”
Archer lifts a hand, slowly drawing his fingertips down my cheek. “Hey.” His rumbly voice is a shade softer. “Don’t be disappointed. Galentine gave me a brief tour when I moved in. Yours will be better.”
I wanted him to experience it with me for the first time, but when his lips find mine, disappointment falls away. My eyes drift closed. “Mm-kay.”
When he chuckles, his mouth moves deliciously against mine, and I find myself chasing the sound.
“Don’t be so easy to convince,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be so convincing, boss.”
He wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me closer. “You’re the one in control here, Willa. Not me.” Archer’s voice sounds strained as he deepens the kiss, like he really is barely holding onto a very thin shred of control.
Stairway kissing is highly underrated. I like having Archer on my level. But I also like his height when we’re on even ground. His height makes me feel small and sheltered. Protected.
But then … that’s just how I feel around Archer.
It’s been a few days since our first kiss. A few days of walking on sunshine or rainbows or cloud nine. (What makes cloud nine the special one, by the way?) Archer and I have slipped so easily into this new…thing without pausing to examine the fine print of what the parameters are.
Because nothing is more of a buzzkill when you’re on a kissing high than having a conversation about things like boundaries and exclusivity and whether you want to get married and start having babies.
I do not plan on discussing the last one anytime soon—I’m smart enough to know that’s exactly how to lose a guy in less than ten days. But I’d be lying to myself if I claimed that seeing Archer with Angie’s baby didn’t have me thinking about it. My ovaries started revving their idling engines the moment he made eye contact with Baba— worst baby name ever —and started talking sweetly to her. I was a goner .
And that was before I pulled him into the bathroom and he kissed me.
Now, I’m just plain ruined.
Which is fine by me! Because being ruined by Archer Gaines is the best outcome I could hope for.
I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t keep me up when I leave his apartment at night. I can surmise that we’re exclusive because Archer is with me almost all day, every day since I’m working out of his office. And though we’re still getting to know each other through quick conversations between actual work and frantic kisses in work breaks, I know this about him—he is too serious about everything else to be un serious about relationships.
This gives me some security when my panic at the lack of defined boundaries rears its head.
We’ll talk about the future, including when or if he’ll return to New York and why I wouldn’t be able to see him or go with him—a thought that has me going icy-cold down to my toenails.
We’ll figure it out. All of it. But for now, I feel utterly safe. If not a little impatient.
Archer’s trying to say something, but I’m not ready to break the kiss. Not yet. After another moment of his mouth moving slowly and purposefully against mine, he gently cups my jaw and pulls us apart. We’re both breathing heavily, and his dark hair is mussed.
Did I do that? I want to do it more.
“I like this look on you,” I tell him, smoothing back the unruly strands. “You’re a little messy. Like me.”
“I like your mess,” Archer says.
From anyone else, I’m not sure I’d take this as the compliment I know it is coming from him. He’s also not a man who says things he doesn’t mean. And normally, he isn’t a man who appreciates disorder. So if he says he likes my mess, he means it. And that means something.
“Hang on,” I say. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
I keep my face as serious as I can. “Did you kiss Galentine on the roof?”
Archer laughs, the sound deep and rich, echoing down the stairwell in full surround-sound effect. I’m grinning by the time his gaze returns to mine. “Why? Are you planning to kiss me on the roof?”
“Maybe. Answer the question, boss.”
I cannot in any world imagine Archer and Galentine kissing. I asked mostly as a joke. But now I’d really like him to answer.
“Would you be jealous?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “But also it’s important factual information to know before we go up there.”
“I did not kiss Galentine. On the roof or elsewhere. I must disclose that I gave her a handkerchief?—”
“You carry handkerchiefs?”
Without missing a beat, Archer pulls one from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, like some kind of magician. It’s monogrammed with his initials, though I realize I don’t know his middle name. “—and she told me she prefers her men blond.”
Now I’m the one laughing because I can totally picture it. “That is so very Galentine.”
“Here.” Archer presses the handkerchief into my palm. “It seems only right that you have one too.”
“What’s your middle name?” I ask, tracing my finger over the scrolling letters. The G for his last name is larger in the center with the initials spelling out AGO .
“Oliver. What’s yours?”
“I don’t have a middle name. But I wish I did because my full name is one letter away from Will Smith. Which means if the a gets left off, people expect Will Smith. Then they’re disappointed.”
Archer kisses the corner of my mouth. “I, on the other hand, would be highly disappointed if I got Will Smith instead of you.”
“Perhaps the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
“That is a low bar. I’ll make it a point to raise that bar very soon and very often.”
Whenever Archer says things like this, things that imply a future, my stomach dips and then soars, like a kite with the strong breeze of hope carrying it along.
“So … the garden?” he says.
“Hm?”
“Were you going to take me up to the roof?”
“Right. Yes. Come on.” Biting my lip, I turn quickly before I can get lost in him again. Bolting up the last stairs, I tuck the handkerchief in my pocket and pull out the roof key. It’s the same one that unlocks the front door, and I’m sure Archer has one. But I’m not waiting for him.
Or letting him distract me again—because I have a plan.
Just as I hoped, the fairy lights Sophie hung are lit, crisscrossing over the rooftop garden. It really looks…magical.
No—I need a different word. Because magic makes me think about the closet that facilitated my meeting with Archer. Our meet cute, as Sophie called it. It’s one more thing on a long list of items Archer and I have not discussed, and I don’t plan to.
I still can’t explain it, and somehow, I don’t think Archer will believe the truth. So I’m going to continue avoiding my closet and pretend the unexplained transportation didn’t happen. Or that there’s some logical explanation I simply don’t know.
I’d rather bury the memory of it all and keep the prize: Archer.
“This is the rooftop garden,” I tell him, spreading my arms wide and doing a little spin. Trying to sell it.
Because while I do plan to kiss Archer up here, my ulterior motive tonight is to get him to sign off on continued funding for Sophie. I’m assuming he doesn’t know about it yet, so I’m both dropping a bomb and then asking him to hang onto it.
A cute little garden bomb. With flowering roses and fairy lights.
My palms start to sweat a little. Because this is only stage one of my plan. For the last few days, even before the kiss, I’ve been trying to think of ways to broach the subject of Archer’s proposed changes to The Serendipity. Like the rent increase that is going to force me out. Or the new pet policy that puts people like Sara and Frank in tough positions. That’s stage two.
I mean, stage one won’t even matter if Sophie has to move out because of the rent increase. But it feels like a good baby step, a place to start, a way to dip my toe in rather than taking the full arctic plunge.
Archer said he had already decided to not charge me for the kitchen when I agreed to work for him. That was the first hint of a heart somewhere underneath his hard exterior. Now, I’ve seen more evidence of his heart. No, it’s not ooey-gooey, as I joked with Bellamy. But he was right—there is more to Archer.
I sense a battle in Archer between the part of him that wants to be a practical businessman, focused only on the bottom line, and the more human part of him. Part of the evidence came from Google. I learned that even if Archer had a head start from what his father had built, after they split up the Gaines empire, Archer quickly surpassed and then eclipsed his father’s holdings and net worth.
Part of me wonders if maybe his father committed the financial crimes he did in an attempt not to be bested by his son. I don’t know their dynamic, but from what I do know, this doesn’t sound so far off. But the most interesting article was a tiny one that didn’t make any of the major news outlets. Or … they chose to ignore it because it didn’t fit their narrative.
After his father’s arrest and the collapse of his father’s companies, Archer tried to take care of the employees impacted. Creating what amounted to severance packages he was in no way responsible for, helping executives find new positions, even creating or opening new positions in his own company.
Archer is an astute businessman. But he also is a man with a very big heart not many people get to see. Maybe one he actively tries to keep under wraps.
I just need him to turn that same big heart toward The Serendipity.
“Well,” I say, taking Archer’s hand and linking our fingers. “What do you think?”
I lead him under the arch of wisteria. It’s not in full bloom, but after a few warm days, the lilac blooms are just starting to show. It really is romantic up here. And it’s for this reason, not in any way because I’m nervous to talk to Archer about continuing Sophie’s monthly stipend or lowering the rent, that I link my arms behind Archer’s neck and tug his mouth down to mine.
His big hands slide down my spine, making me shiver, and stop at my waist. He’s warm, and the night air is a little crisp, so I lean in closer.
“Do you bring all your boyfriends up here?” Archer asks, trailing his lips across my jaw.
“Now who’s jealous?” I tease.
“Me.” The word comes out almost as a growl against a spot just under my jaw.
“You don’t need to be. I’ve never come up here with anyone.”
“Good.” The word hangs in the air, heavy with meaning, even before he pulls back and catches my gaze, sending a silent message with his intensity.
Maybe I’m reading into things, but I feel like he’s telling me I’ll never come up here with another guy again.
“Enjoying the ambiance, I see?”
We both turn to see Sophie leaning against one of the cement planters, smirking. She has been nothing but smug since I told her Archer kissed me. I’d be annoyed by it, but … I don’t actually care. I’ll happily admit I was wrong about Archer liking me all day long.
But she hasn’t been around Archer and me together. I’m actually not sure if they’ve met. Taking Archer’s hand again, we walk over, meeting her by the beds she and I worked on just last week.
“Sophie, have you met Archer?”
I’m surprised when he says, “We’ve met.”
“When did this happen?” I ask, glancing between them.
“You’ve been a little busy,” Sophie says, smiling. “Just like when I walked up here.”
Some friends might be mad or feel like they’ve been ditched with how much time I’ve spent with Archer these last few days. Sophie isn’t one of them. Other than being insufferably smug, she’s been so happy for me. Even if we haven’t hung out as much. She’s been busy too, apparently, which is good timing for me.
“We actually met this week and talked about the stipend for the garden,” Archer says, and my mouth drops open.
“You what? ” I don’t know which one of them to glare at first. So I glare at both of their grinning faces and then I yank them into a group hug where I’m the one squished in the middle.
“Are you happy or angry?” Archer asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice. But I can’t see it because my face ended up squished into his chest.
No complaints there.
“Happy,” I say with a sniff, not sure where this threat of tears is coming from.
“Okay, okay,” Sophie says, giving my shoulder a squeeze and disentangling us. “Not a big deal.”
I shoot her a look because it’s a very big deal. And I really, really hope it’s an indication that stage two will be successful when I work up the courage to ask Archer about it.
“Oh, hey.” I point behind Sophie to the flower bed with the non-weed I tried to pull when we were working and I was griping about Archer ruining my business. “Your UFO is blooming.”
“Her UFO?” Archer asks.
“Unidentified floral object,” Sophie says, stepping closer and bending down to examine the flower. Its petals are white with a deep pink center, resembling a mix of an orchid and a lily. “I haven’t been able to figure out what this plant is. But I guess it’s one that blooms at night. Interesting.”
I smile at Archer and give him a little eye roll. “Yes. Plant mysteries are very interesting.”
“Oh, shut it, Willa. Why don’t you guys go back to making out?”
“Right here? Okay.” I start to reach up on my toes for Archer, who’s looking very amenable to the idea.
“No!” Sophie says. “You’ll scare the flowers. But you have my blessing to christen the rest of the building with your kissing.”
“Mm—sounds like a plan.” I give Archer a flirty grin, and his hand finds mine, squeezing tight. “’Night, Soph!”
She doesn’t respond, caught up in staring at the flowers on the vine, which I’m glad I didn’t remove last week. Maybe now she’ll be able to solve her mystery.
But I’m no longer thinking about flowers when we step inside the building and Archer spins me, gently pressing my back into the wall as his lips brush my ear. “How long do you think it would take to christen the whole building?”
“Guess we’ll have to find out.”