Chapter 38
38
ARCHER
S ky bounces excitedly in Layla’s lap as she reaches for the next gift bag. “Who’s that one from?” she asks my mother.
Mom adjusts the paper birthday hat on her head. She peeks down at the little ticket attached to the colorful bag she’s handing to Layla. “The card says…Archer.”
All eyes in my crowded living room swing to me.
“ Another gift from Archer?” Karli asks, hiding her grin behind her red plastic cup.
I shrug from where I’m sitting on the arm of the couch, shoving pretzels into my face. “It’s my favorite little man’s second birthday. That’s a big deal.”
As far as I’m concerned, the toy airplane, animal farm board books, plastic tool set and ride-on tractor I bought him weren’t enough. I want to give Sky the whole damn world. And I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.
Sky eagerly digs into the bag and Layla helps him navigate through all the tissue paper until he finally reaches his gift. A collective aww rings out around the room when Layla holds up the small lumberjack shirt.
The little boy grabs the shirt, slides out of his mother’s arms and runs over to me. “Mista Musdache?” He hands it to me, looking confused.
Laughter floats up around the birthday party.
“No, buddy. It’s not my shirt. It’s yours.” I scoop him onto my lap and help him put on the red flannel shirt, sliding the sleeves up his arms and buttoning up the front. “You like it?” I ask him.
“Like it,” he beams, proudly smoothing his hand down the fabric.
“We say ‘thank you’,” Layla coos from across the room.
“Ta-kou,” Sky says dutifully, grabbing my face in his sticky hands and giving me a slobbery kiss on the cheek. Then he runs back to his mama, eager to open his other gifts and totally unaware that he just melted my stony heart down to a puddle of slush.
Layla makes eye contact with me over Sky’s tousled head. “Looks like we’ll have to make that trip to the Redwoods after all.” She winks and fireworks go off inside my chest.
I force myself to seem unaffected as the house descends into chaos and the party continues. There are children running around, laughter filling the air, unidentified sticky shit on the floor and everyone is having a good time all around. I’m having sensory overload. I have to take a second to myself just to absorb all the madness.
This all feels so unfamiliar to me. I’m not the guy who hosts parties or invites large groups of people into my space. For as long as I can remember, I’ve enjoyed being alone. But for Sky and Layla, this concession feels worth it. Getting to see the smiles on their faces as they’re showered with love means everything to me.
By the time the party is over, it’s getting pretty late. We say goodbye to the guests, ushering them out the door. Then Layla puts Sky to bed while my siblings help me clean up.
My family is long gone by the time Layla joins me in the kitchen where I’m washing the last of the dishes. She’s barefoot now, still wearing that loose-fitting pink turtleneck thing she’s been wearing all day. I can’t tell if it’s a sweater or a dress or what. All I know is, she looks incredible in it. She stands next to me, side by side, drying each item after I scrub it clean.
Suddenly, washing dishes feels exciting . The water is too hot, and the tension builds thicker and thicker whenever I pass her a dripping wet plate. She takes it, brushing her delicate fingers over mine each time.
My mind replays what happened a few weeks ago, right here against this very counter. I ache to touch her again, to have her pressed up against the cabinet, her body flush with mine. It’s all I can think about. And with how quiet she’s grown next to me, I’m certain she’s thinking about it too.
With a frustrated sigh, I drop the silverware back into the soapy water. Then I turn, take the damp kitchen towel from Layla, and toss it onto the counter next to us. Bubbles still covering my hands, I thread my fingers through hers. Her fingers hook tightly with mine like she’s been craving my touch as much as I’ve been craving her own.
My eyes remain locked on hers. I can’t help it.She’s so beautiful. A freight train could barrel down my driveway, and I still wouldn’t be able to look away from Layla’s face.
I’m dying to kiss her. I’m aching to show her all the other needs I can take care of. Because ultimately, that’s what I want. I want to take care of Layla. I want to take care of her every fucking need.
But sex is not the kind of act I jump into casually. It’s serious to me. It means something to me.
My brows pull together, as I shake my head. I can’t kiss her. Yet still, I can’t let her go. And I know it’s been a long day, but I don’t want it to be over just yet.
Fuck it.
“Come hang out with me…” I hear myself saying.
“What?” Layla whispers.
“Come hang out in the library,” I repeat, and I find myself brushing her bangs from her eyes. “I know it’s late but you’re not ready to go to bed yet, are you?”
“Archer, we shouldn’t,” she says weakly.
“Just to talk. I promise. I’ll behave.” Silently, I try to convince myself that I’m not full of shit. “Just to talk.”
Layla still hesitates.
I clasp my hands in front of my chest like a dork. “Please?”
Layla sighs with resignation, fighting the smile that inches up the corners of her mouth. “Fine…I’ll hang out with you.”