Chapter Thirty-Two Remi #2
“Well, look who showed up while the sun is still shining. Didn’t think we’d see you before dark, bug.”
Archer laughed, and over my shoulder, I gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t encourage him.”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Sorry.”
Yeah. He looked really sorry, especially when he paired that unrepentant smile with a quick squeeze of my ass since Pops couldn’t see him yet.
Pops was in his recliner, reading a book about the Cold War, and he set it down on his stomach as we rounded the corner into the family room.
His gaze tracked over me, then Archer right behind me, and down to where he held my hand in his.
Pops smiled, then lifted his book back up to cover the bottom half of his face.
“Good to see you, Evans.”
“Likewise, sir.”
“You gonna be here every day now?”
His hand squeezed mine. “As long as she’s not sick of me.”
“Already looking for compliments?” I clucked my tongue. “What an unfortunate personality trait.”
Archer’s eyes glinted, and he dipped his head closer to my ear, lowering his voice so Pops couldn’t hear him. “I’m pretty sure you came so hard, you saw stars about an hour ago. I’m not looking for shit, sweetheart.”
Cheeks hot, I rolled my lips together and cleared my throat. “Right.”
He straightened, looking like the cat who ate the fucking canary, and if it weren’t so stupid attractive, I would’ve smacked him just for being cheeky.
Except it was attractive. And now my very well-used lady bits were throbbing.
I blew out a short breath and refocused. “Where’s my kid?”
Pops tilted his head toward the bedroom. “He disappeared in there after Ness dropped him off.”
“Gavin?” I called.
The door to his room flew open and he barreled out, almost knocking me over with his enthusiastic hug. “I had so much fun last night. Did Auntie Ness send you pictures of the blanket fort? It was huge.”
She had. But I’d been too busy getting banged until my eyes crossed, so I hadn’t seen them until we ventured back into the kitchen in search of food.
I’d offered to whip up a couple omelets, but Archer started making out with me against the kitchen counter, and it proved too great of a distraction when I started thinking about hot stovetops and wandering hands, so we settled on leftover pizza from the night before, simply from a safety standpoint.
“I saw them a little bit ago. Pretty epic.”
Gavin batted my hand away when I tried to fix his hair, his eyes darting over to Archer. “H-hey, Archer.”
Even though he’d just seen him the day before, there was still a shy quality to his greeting, like he wasn’t exactly sure how this was supposed to go.
“Hey, bud. Did Analise survive her first blanket fort?”
He grinned. “Yeah, she said it was awesome. We ate popcorn and M&M’s and watched a movie in our sleeping bags.”
Archer’s smile was small, but so genuine that it made my chest ache. “That’s good. I’m glad you invited her.”
Gavin sucked in a sharp breath. “Can I open that present from you now?”
Archer glanced in my direction, and I smiled encouragingly. He turned his gaze back toward Gavin, his hand holding mine even more tightly. “You didn’t open it yet?”
Gavin shook his head. He ran off to his room, returning with the box in his hands and his cheeks flushed with excitement. “I told Mom I wanted to wait until you were here again.”
That hit him hard. I’d expected it would. Archer blinked a few times, then attempted a swallow. “You were pretty sure that would happen, huh?”
Gavin shrugged. “Yeah. I knew you liked her. And she wouldn’t have been so sad if she didn’t like you too. You guys just took a really long time to get back together.” His eyes widened. “Like, really long.”
“It was four days,” I answered dryly.
“I know,” he sighed. “Do you know how long four days is at my age? An eternity. I thought I’d have to help you out if it took much longer.”
Archer laughed. “Yeah? Give me your best advice. I might need it, because you know her a lot better than I do.”
Gavin plopped onto the couch, and Archer joined him, spreading his legs out wide as he settled into the middle cushion.
Pops watched the two of them from over the edge of his book.
“First, you have to know she cries a lot. Even when she’s happy.”
Archer nodded. “Noted. What else?”
“She said it’s okay for boys to cry too.
But I don’t really understand half the stuff that makes her weepy.
And I’ve never had happy tears, so I think that’s just a mom thing.
” Archer managed to keep a straight face as he listened intently.
“She loves chocolate. And she reads every night before bed, but she drops her Kindle on her face all the time.”
“Twice. I’ve done it twice,” I said.
Archer swiped a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. Based on the crinkles next to Pops’s eyes, he was doing the same behind his book.
Gavin pursed his lips and tried to think of other things he could share.
“She says she doesn’t take naps, but she falls asleep putting away laundry if she does it in the afternoon.” His expression turned serious. “And if she offers to make you eggs, just say no.”
I clapped my hands. “Okay, this has been fun.”
Gavin and Archer shared a look. “You can tell me more later,” Archer whispered loudly.
“Oh Lord.” I rolled my eyes. “Just what he needs, a coconspirator.”
The grin on Archer’s face was devastating, dimpling his cheek in a way that made my heart flip, even more because he was aiming that grin at my son.
He motioned me closer with a crook of his fingers.
I curled up on the cushion next to him, sighing contentedly when his arm draped over my legs where they were bent next to his thigh.
Present clutched in his hand, Gavin watched us, the wheels turning behind his eyes.
He’d never seen me with a boyfriend. There was a slight catch in my throat, a blossoming worry that I’d sprung this on him too fast. Yesterday at Archer’s house had been different, busy enough with dozens of other people there to distract him. But here, in our home, it was a very different story.
His expression didn’t look upset. Just thoughtful. But he’d stayed quiet so long, I couldn’t help but worry.
“Is this okay?” I asked him. “I know we didn’t, like, talk about it.”
For a second, he stared down at his lap, then he nodded slowly. When he raised his head, his eyes were glossy. “I feel like someone is squeezing my heart and all the good stuff just can’t stay stuck inside, so it’s coming out my eyeballs.”
I leaned my head against Archer’s shoulder and smiled, so impossibly, blissfully happy that it didn’t even seem real. His fingers twined through mine and squeezed.
Gavin sniffed. “Is this why you always cry during that commercial?”
“Yup. Heart squeezing out of my eyeballs, for sure.”
Archer laughed under his breath, turning his head to press a soft kiss to my temple.
Pops caught my eye and winked as Gavin carefully slid his fingers underneath the beautiful red ribbon holding the box closed.
“Did you wrap that?” I asked quietly.
Archer shook his head. “No way, I’m the king of gift bags.”
“Good,” I exhaled. “If you were that talented at wrapping presents, too, I’d have to worry you were too perfect.”
He grinned, his hand sliding over my thigh.
Gavin pulled the ribbon off and carefully set it on the floor next to the couch.
The box on his lap was white with silver edges, a Buffalo logo gleaming in the middle.
It wasn’t even a gift I’d purchased, but I found myself nervous as Gavin used both hands to slide the top off.
Black tissue paper covered the contents, held together by a Storm sticker.
I gave Archer a quick look, and he was holding his breath, uncharacteristic nerves stamped on his face.
Gavin tucked his tongue between his teeth and peeled back the sticker, then the tissue paper.
It was folded neatly into the box so that the name and number were visible first.
Gavin’s mouth fell open, his eyes flying up to Archer’s. “How did you . . .”
From my angle, I couldn’t see it clearly, but when Gavin slowly lifted the jersey out of the box, my mouth fell open too.
It wasn’t Evans on the back, like I’d assumed.
It was Sinclair.
My gaze flew to Archer, but he didn’t look away from my son.
“It’s real,” Gavin whispered in a trembling voice, his fingers tracing over the stitched letters, the patches on the shoulder.
“Exactly like the ones we wear on the field,” Archer explained. “Let’s see how it fits. I had to guess on the size, so I hope it’s not too big.”
Gavin’s cheeks were flushed pink, and he pressed his lips together like he was trying to keep from crying, but he did as Archer asked. He tugged his T-shirt off and unfolded the jersey like it was a precious material that might rip or snag or tear at the slightest mishandling.
Archer motioned him closer and carefully eased the jersey over Gavin’s head, holding it so that he could slide his arms through. It was a little big, unfolding down to Gavin’s thighs, but based on the rapt expression on my son’s face, he really didn’t care.
“Whoa,” he whispered, voice shaking slightly. “Why did you get me this?”
Archer set his hands on Gavin’s shoulders, expression serious.
“I understand why you got rid of my jersey,” he explained slowly.
“Until I earn the right to have you wear mine again someday, I still wanted you to have one.” He paused, throat working on a thick swallow.
“But you should wear a name that’s worthy of respect.
” He tapped Gavin’s chest. “I couldn’t think of any name that was better than yours. ”
A tear spilled over Gavin’s cheek.
My vision was already blurry and my cheeks wet, to the surprise of no one.
I’d lost the battle as soon as he pulled the jersey on, but kept my tears quiet so I could let them have this moment. Pops didn’t have the same qualms, because he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose with a noisy honk.