Chapter 9
Archer
Saturday afternoon, I stood in a flower shop in Chelsea.
Tonight I was supposed to tell Gianna the truth. That was the plan. Pick her up, take her to dinner, explain everything before this went any further.
But I’d spent the last hour choosing flowers anyway, because apparently I was committed to being a coward with excellent taste.
“The peonies are fresh,” the florist said, watching me with the patient expression of someone who dealt with indecisive men regularly. “Mixed with roses, maybe some eucalyptus for texture?”
“That sounds good.”
She wrapped them in brown paper while I tried to convince myself this made sense. You could bring someone flowers and then immediately destroy their entire perception of you. People probably did that all the time.
I paid and walked out into the afternoon sun, bouquet in hand, feeling like an idiot.
My apartment was twenty minutes away. I had three hours before I needed to pick up Gianna. Plenty of time to shower, change, maybe have a drink to calm my nerves.
Maybe have several drinks.
I’d been thinking about this date all week. Every morning I’d wake up thinking today’s the day I’ll call her and cancel, tell her we need to talk first, explain everything over the phone where I don’t have to watch her face change.
But I never called.
Instead I’d gone through the motions of normal life while my mind stayed stuck on Saturday at six p.m.
Thursday Jake had called to ask if I wanted to grab drinks. I’d said I was busy. He’d said I was always busy lately and asked if something was wrong.
I’d told him everything was fine.
Friday I’d caught myself looking at Gianna’s LinkedIn profile like a stalker, reading about her clinic work and her academic achievements and trying to reconcile the woman I was falling for with the daughter of a man my decisions had destroyed.
And now it was Saturday and I was outside her apartment holding flowers and trying to figure out how to be the person she thought I was for one more night.
Gianna’s address had led me to a building in Washington Heights. Modest but well-maintained, the kind of place that housed grad students and young professionals who were making it work on tight budgets.
I rang the bell.
Thirty seconds that felt like an hour. Then the door opened.
And I forgot every carefully planned word I’d meant to say.
She was wearing a dress—floral print—and my brain stopped working properly. Her hair was up, showing her neck and shoulders. Simple makeup that made her eyes look bigger, warmer.
She was beautiful, in a way that felt real and present.
“Hi,” she said, and her smile did things to my pulse that should probably be illegal.
“Hi.” I held out the flowers like an offering. “These are for you. I know it’s old-fashioned but I saw them and thought—” I stopped because I was rambling. “Is this too much? It might be too much.”
She took them from me and brought them to her face, breathing in. When she looked up, her expression had gone soft in a way that made my chest feel tight.
“They’re perfect,” she said. “Come in. Let me put these in water.”
I followed her inside and tried not to stare.
Her apartment was small—studio layout, everything arranged to make the most of limited space.
But it felt like her. Books stacked neatly on shelves, a framed photo of her and an older couple who must be her parents on the bookshelf.
My stomach tightened with unease at the sight.
I walked closer to the photo while Gianna filled a vase in the kitchen.
A family portrait. Gianna couldn’t have been more than twelve. Standing between her parents, all three of them dressed up for something, her father’s hand on her shoulder.
Carlos Pearson.
The man I’d never met.
I should tell her. Right now. Standing in her apartment with her father’s photo two feet away. Just say it. Explain everything.
But she turned and looked at me and the words died in my throat.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded. “Ready.”
I’d tell her after dinner. Give us this one night first.
The restaurant was in the West Village, a place I’d been to a few times that managed to be romantic without being stuffy. Low lighting, good wine list, tables spaced far enough apart for actual conversation.
The hostess seated us at a corner table and Gianna looked around with genuine appreciation.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it.” I picked up the wine menu and realized my hands weren’t entirely steady. “Do you want to see the wine list or should I just order something?”
“Surprise me. I trust your taste.”
Those three words hit me harder than they should have.
I ordered a bottle of red and we settled into the comfortable silence.
“So,” Gianna said when the wine arrived. “Ground rules for tonight.”
“Ground rules?”
“No talking about work. No law school, no real estate, no cases. Just us being normal people having dinner.”
I almost laughed. “What if we’re not normal people?”
“Then we pretend.” She took a sip of wine. “I’ll start. What’s something most people don’t know about you?”
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“That’s why it’s interesting.”
I thought about it. “I wanted to be an architect when I was a kid. Drew building designs all the time, entire cities on graph paper.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My father needed help with the company. Architecture felt like a luxury we couldn’t afford.” I took a drink. “Your turn.”
“I can’t cook to save my life. Like, genuinely terrible at it. Sam says I’m a danger to kitchens everywhere.”
“The pasta you were making when I called?”
“Boiled water and jarred sauce. That’s my entire skill set.”
I smiled despite the weight in my chest. “What else?”
We traded questions through dinner. Favorite movies, worst dates, places we’d want to travel. She told me about growing up in New York, about her mother selling flowers before Hector hired her, about working three jobs while taking care of her mom and somehow staying sane.
I told her about feeling like I was constantly trying to live up to something I’d never fully understood, about Jake being my friend since childhood despite being a disaster as a human.
“He sounds like a character,” Gianna said.
“That’s generous. Most people call him something less charitable.”
“But you’re still friends.”
“Loyalty’s complicated.” I refilled her wine glass. “Sometimes you care about people even when they make it difficult.”
She studied me across the table. “You’re more thoughtful than you let on.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. Definitely good.” She smiled and it felt like sunlight. “What else? What’s your greatest fear?”
The question caught me off guard. “Why that one?”
“Because everyone asks about dreams and ambitions. Nobody asks about fears.” She leaned forward slightly. “So what is it? What keeps you up at night?”
Losing you before I ever really had you.
“Disappointing people,” I said instead. “Letting down people who trusted me with something important.”
Her expression softened. “That’s not a small fear.”
“No. It’s not.”
“What about greatest hope?”
“That I can fix the things I’ve broken before they break someone else.”
She reached across the table and touched my hand. Brief, barely a second, but it sent electricity straight through me.
“I think you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for,” she said.
I wanted to believe that. Wanted to be the person she saw when she looked at me instead of the person I actually was.
By the time we left the restaurant, I’d almost forgotten I was supposed to tell her the truth tonight.
Almost.
The drive back to her apartment was quiet. Comfortable. She looked out the window at the city passing by, and I tried to memorize the moment—her profile in the streetlights, the way her hand rested on the console between us, how easy this felt.
I parked outside her building and killed the engine.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said. “I had a really good time.”
“Me too.”
We sat there in the darkness of my car, the moment stretching into something more than just the end of a date.
“I should head inside,” she said, but she didn’t move.
“Yeah.” I didn’t move either.
She looked at me and I looked at her and everything else fell away. The guilt, the secret, the inevitable disaster waiting for us. Just her face in the dim light and the realization that I’d never wanted anything more than this.
I reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. My fingers lingered against her cheek. Her breath caught.
“Archie,” she said, and my name in her voice undid me.
My eyes dropped to her lips. I leaned closer. She leaned in too.
My throat went tight. I could do this—kiss her and deal with everything else later. Could have this one perfect moment before I ruined everything.
But that wasn’t fair to her. Or to either of us.
I pulled back. Dropped my hand. Put space between us even though it physically hurts to do it.
“I should walk you up,” I said, my voice rough.
She blinked—confused, maybe hurt. “Oh. Okay.”
We got out of the car and walked to her building in silence. I wanted to explain but didn’t know how. Wanted to pull her back and finish what we’d started but knew I couldn’t.
At her door she turned to face me.
“Goodnight, Archie.”
“Goodnight, Gianna.”
She went inside and I stood in the hallway for a long moment, listening to her footsteps fade, hating myself for being a coward twice in one night.
I drove home and went straight to my laptop.
The words came easily: I am writing to tender my resignation as CEO of Devlin Holdings, effective immediately. My judgment has been compromised and the company would be better served by leadership without my particular conflicts of interest.
I read it. Then deleted it.
Resigning solved nothing. Just handed the company to Richard or Margaret or someone else who definitely wouldn’t implement any of the reforms I’d been fighting for. Made everything I’d learned meaningless.
But staying meant lying to Gianna. Meant letting her get closer while keeping this massive secret. Meant eventually watching her face change from warmth to horror when she learned the truth.
I opened a new document and started drafting something else. Not a resignation letter. A plan. Ways I could quietly help her case without it being obvious. Internal documents I could make accessible through discovery. Board members I could pressure to settle.
Maybe if I fixed things quietly, I could earn the right to tell her the truth without it destroying us both.
I knew this was cowardice dressed up as strategy. Knew I was just delaying the inevitable. But the thought of losing her, of seeing that smile disappear when she realized who I really was—
I couldn’t do it. Not yet.
My doorbell rang at midnight.
I opened it to find Jake swaying in the hallway, clearly drunk, looking miserable.
“She kicked me out,” he announced.
“Who?”
“The girl. Woman. Whatever.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Can’t remember her name. Does that make me an asshole?”
“Yes.” I stepped aside to let him in. “Come on.”
He collapsed on my couch and stared at the ceiling. “Why are women so complicated?”
“They’re not. You’re just terrible at relationships.”
“Fair point.” He turned his head to look at my laptop still open on the coffee table. “Why are you working? You’re the CEO of a huge company. Delegate that shit.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Everything’s complicated with you lately.” He closed his eyes. “You need a woman in your life, man. Someone to make you less… whatever this is.”
“I have enough problems without adding that to the list.”
“Everyone has problems. Doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.” He cracked one eye open. “Want me to set you up? I know people.”
“You know terrible people who make terrible choices. Like you.”
“Ouch. True, but ouch.” He closed his eyes again. “You should still try. Being alone sucks.”
“Take your own advice.”
“I’m working on it. Poorly, but I’m working on it.”
I grabbed a blanket and threw it at him. “Go to sleep.”
“You’re a good friend, Archie. Even when I don’t deserve it.”
I walked to my room without answering.
In the shower, hot water pounding against my shoulders, I tried to think clearly. About Gianna and the truth I owed her and how close I’d come to kissing her and how pulling back had been both the right thing and the worst thing.
But I didn’t find answers. Just more questions. More evidence that the man Gianna thought I was didn’t actually exist.
I turned off the water and stood there dripping, staring at my reflection in the foggy mirror.
Was there any way forward that didn’t end with me losing everything I wanted?