Chapter 16
Archer
I can’t just change my entire life for one kiss.
The words repeated over and over and over in my head like a bad Christmas jingle.
We promised to talk after the gazebo was complete, but we avoided it. Just like we always did. I couldn’t help but wonder if we would fall back into the enemy roles we’d gotten so good at over the years.
Hell, the more I thought, the more I realized we’d been enemies almost longer than friends. Which one was the real us?
Was I fooling myself, thinking we could be more?
I pushed myself hard on the farm, which was great for my to-do list but not so much the rest of me. By the time darkness claimed the sky, my mood matched the on-repeat jingle: bad.
“Archer?” Mom asked as if she was surprised to see me standing in my own kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“With that attitude, you’re going to be living in the barn,” she stated, opening the fridge to reach inside. “I thought you’d be on your way to the bistro by now. Don’t you and Toby have to move the gingerbread over to town square so people can get their bids in?”
“I’m not going.”
The door shut, and she turned, a container of eggnog in her hand. It made me think of this morning when I’d fed Toby the cream puff. What a nice moment that had been… before everything went right into hell.
“Bernadette dropped this off a little while ago when she came into Hodge Podge. Her homemade eggnog is the best in all of Winterbury. I’ve been thinking of a glass all afternoon.”
I made a face.
She smacked me in the arm on the way by. “I didn’t say you had to drink it. Now tell me why you say you aren’t going. Did you two already move it?”
“No,” I replied. Then, “I’m not feeling too well.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. My stomach felt hollow, and my muscles were tired from the way I’d exerted myself all afternoon.
“Oh, I hope you aren’t coming down with something,” Mom fussed, abandoning the jug of nog to come over and reach for my forehead. She was short, so I bent down, making it easier for her. After a moment, she frowned. “You don’t seem to have a fever. Is your throat sore?”
“No.”
“Are you coughing?”
“No.”
Exasperated, she said, “Well, what feels bad?”
My heart. I didn’t say that out loud. I just shrugged. “Just feel rundown.”
“Well, no wonder after all the work you did today.” She tsked. “And you didn’t even eat dinner.”
Guess she saw the untouched plate she’d left for me in the fridge. “Maybe I ate something else.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Did you?”
“No,” I muttered. The last thing I felt like doing was eating. How could I when my stomach felt like it had been through a meat grinder?
She shook her head and went back to the eggnog, pouring herself a glass. “Mm, delicious. Just as I remembered it,” she said after a sip. When I said nothing, she just kept talking. “Bab called me today.”
My eyes darted toward her, but she wasn’t looking at me, instead returning the container to the fridge.
Mom went on, voice conversational and completely oblivious to the turmoil inside me. “She said you boys did an amazing job on the gazebo.”
“Did she, ah, say anything else?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Like what?”
That I was about to kiss Toby before she interrupted. Which, by the way, was rude.
What if that first kiss under the mistletoe was also our last?
The intrusive thought made my stomach dip and this odd sense of despair course through me.
“Archer?” Mom questioned.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. I just know she likes to gossip.”
“She was not gossiping by telling me about my son,” Mom chided.
I didn’t bother pointing out that her son was an almost-thirty-year-old man. And fine, maybe the reason we had to do the gingerbread at all was because of a juvenile argument, but I was a man of my word, and I said I’d rebuild it.
And yes, maybe I was an almost-thirty-year-old man who still lived with his mother…
but after my father died and I took over the farm, it seemed pointless to have my own place.
I got up with the sun and worked until it went down, sometimes even longer.
Why drive to and from a house I would barely occupy because I was always here.
Besides, I liked being close in case Mom needed anything.
I promised my dad I would not only look after the farm but her too.
I always thought I’d eventually build my own home here on the property, something rustic with large windows that offered sprawling views of the land I worked hard to maintain. But that thought always included a family. Again, it seemed pointless to build a place like that for just me.
Maybe I should have tried harder over the years to have that family I always thought of, but it was hard to do when the person you pictured it with wasn’t there.
“Why don’t you go on and lie down?” Mom went on. “I’ll call Mayor Schroder and see if Brett is available.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“Well, someone will need to help Toby. He can’t carry it on his own.”
“No.” I was absolute.
Mom glanced up. “Well, why not?”
“Because I said I’d be there.”
“If you aren’t feeling well, you should just stay home. You don’t want to be sick for Christmas. Brett is perfectly capable of helping Toby.”
“Toby is mine,” I snapped.
Mom’s eyes widened as her lips rolled in.
I suppressed a grimace while rubbing my hand over my beard. “What I meant—” I started, but Mom cut me off.
“Oh, I know what you meant. And honestly, it’s about time. If I’d known bringing Brett up would have been what did it, I’d have done so sooner.”
I blinked. Blinked again. “Ah, come again?”
She laughed under her breath. “You think I don’t know how you feel about Toby? I’ve always known.”
There was no way, just no way, she could have known I thought of Toby as anything other than a friend then enemy. I’d never admitted to feeling anything more to anyone—ever. Hell, it took me years to even admit to myself.
She sighed, her whole expression softening as she came to my side, laying her hand on my arm. “I see it in your eyes every time you look at him. I always have.”
Disbelief rippled through me. Slowly, I shook my head. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m sure that’s what you told yourself,” she mused. “So stubborn. But the truth always finds a way, Archer. Even if it needs a little mistletoe magic to help it.”
I made a sound. Mistletoe magic. Even after that life-altering kiss last night, I struggled to believe. Especially after everything that happened this morning.
“I rejected him,” I confessed. “Ten years ago. He tried to tell me how he felt, and I pushed him away.”
“I’d always wondered what happened between you two.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I wanted you boys to work it out on your own,” she said simply.
“So why’re you bringing it up now?”
“Because it’s been ten years, Archer. I’m afraid if you let him go this time, you will regret it forever.”
I would. I knew I would.
“I love him,” I whispered. “I’m in love with him.”
“You should tell him,” she said.
“His life is in Boston.”
“His heart is here.”
Those words made my own heart constrict. “You think so?”
“Oh, honey. Toby looks at you the same way you look at him.”
The words hurt, causing a physical wound in my chest. I wanted it—him—so badly that it hurt.
“Whatever happened this morning, you can fix it,” Mom said. “Take it from a woman who was happily married for a very long time. Love isn’t always easy, but it is always worth it.”
I looked into her eyes, which were the same blue as mine. “You would be okay with me and Toby?”
“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m more than okay with it. I already love him like a son. He’s a kind and caring man. But what’s more is that he makes you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, to be happy.”
The gravel in my throat made it hard to swallow, my vision a little blurred from the effort. With the rocks still lodged in my throat, I managed to speak something that was always heavy on my heart and mind. “What about Dad?”
“Oh, Archer. Have you been worried about this all these years?”
“Dad was very traditional. I’ve tried hard to make him proud.”
With a sound, she flung herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and squeezing tight.
She smelled like cinnamon and clove. Before pulling away, she patted my back.
“Your father loved you. He loved you so much. You were the thing he was most proud of. Not this farm—you. And he would be proud. He is proud. That much I can tell you with my whole heart.”
“Even if I love another man?”
“No matter who you love. It’s true your father was a traditional man, but he believed in the mistletoe just like the rest of the town. In the lesson the mistletoe teaches. Love unites us. It’s a gift and never something to view as toxic.”
“Really?”
She smiled. “Yes, really. And like me, your father saw the way you looked at Toby. He knew which way your heart leaned.”
“But he never said…”
“It wasn’t the right time. For him or for you. But it is now, and if he were here with us, he would tell you to follow your heart.”
I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to hear that. To know that both my parents would honor my choice.
Because Toby was my choice.
One my heart made long ago.
“I have to go,” I said suddenly, gazing around frantically for my keys. “I’m going to be late.”
“Does that mean I don’t need to call Brett?”
My boots scuffed against the floor when I turned back to scowl. “Mom.”
Her laughter filled the entire kitchen. “I’m glad you aren’t coming down with something after all.”
I scowled harder.
“Go on.” She shooed me out. “Go get your man.”
I rushed forward and hugged her quickly. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”
“Always.”
Then I ran out into the crisp wintry night, a man on a mistletoe mission.