37. Archie
Archie
I have just enough time to reply to Piper’s text before turning back to the long line of customers at Frothed. Mitzi takes their orders; Diva and I make the drinks—mostly Diva. I’m still learning—and I deliver them at the counter or to the tables. But the entire time, all I’m thinking of is Piper.
The last month has been equal parts the best and hardest of my life.
Getting to know Piper—her heart, her mind, her dreams, her goals—has been better than I could have imagined.
We’ve spent every spare second together, working on Bombora, and learning as much as possible about each other.
We’ve fought and laughed, compromised and apologized, and in those moments, we’ve built a foundation for so much more than a business.
We say goodnight without kissing and go our separate ways.
Then Facetime until we fall asleep. The waiting has been torture while also providing us the space to grow into a love that I’m confident will last. And that’s what I want with Piper: something that will last. Because love is the only thing that can last. Not money—even billions.
Not power—it’s an illusion anyway. Not even a perfect wave—I’ve chased enough to know.
Even if they could last, I’d give them all up—and more—to love Piper forever.
And now I can.
Dad and Cynthia are divorced. The last thing keeping us apart is the woman in front of me waiting for her chai latte. I nearly toss it to her, then I quick-walk back to Britta’s office before another customer can come in and stop me.
Dex walks in the back door. He comes by for lunch with Britta every day after therapy, and his timing is perfect today. I want both of them here when I deliver the news. They’ve been almost as anxious as Piper and me for this divorce to be final.
“It’s done. Divorce is final.” I’m already untying my apron when I walk into Britta’s office. “We thought it was tomorrow, but Piper’s just texted.”
“Oh my gosh,” Britta says, catching the true depth of this half a second before Dex does. “That’s amazing.”
“Congrats, mate!” Dex claps me on the back.
“Is Piper at work?” Britta asks excitedly.
“Yeah.” I have all sorts of fantasies about rushing through the doors of Valente and sweeping her off her feet.
“Go, Archie! Kiss her like you’ve just won the WSL championship.”
I look at her with a question.
“I’m just saying, it worked for Dex. My knees turn to Jell-o when I think about that kiss.” She glances at Dex with a look I plan to put on Piper’s face with our first real kiss.
“It’s good advice, mate,” Dex says while returning Britta’s soft gaze.
I pull the apron over my head and throw it over the hook on the wall in my dash for the front door.
I’m barely through it when I see Piper at the opposite end of the walkway. We both stop. She smiles, then runs—literally runs— to me, jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist.
“I’m not your annoying stepsister anymore,” she says.
“Yeah? I’m going to —”
She puts her finger on my lip. “No more talking.”
I obey.
With one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, I slide my other hand along her jawline to the nape of her neck and kiss the corner of her mouth.
As I work my way across her lips, I carry her to an outdoor table no one is sitting at.
I’m vaguely aware there are people at the other tables and more inside watching through the window, but I don’t care.
I’ve waited too long for this moment to worry about who sees it.
We break apart long enough for me to set Piper on the wrought iron table.
She drops her legs, and with a smile that takes my breath, grabs my shirt to pull me closer.
Our lips meet again. Softly at first, then with all the longing we’ve held back.
We deepen our kiss. I explore every part of the mouth I’ve been dreaming about for months.
The reality is so much better than the dream.
“Archie! Mate!” Dex yells behind me.
With my hand still cradling Piper’s cheek, I pull away and glance at Dex.
“This is a family establishment.” He waves his head toward parents with a baby in a stroller at the table next to us. An older couple at a nearby table both clap and whistle. I hear more clapping coming from inside.
The baby’s mother rests her chin on her hand. “Baby’s asleep. You go right ahead.”
Piper and I both laugh uncomfortably. I take her hand to help her off the table.
Piper waves to a dark-haired woman behind me. “How about we start tomorrow, Anna?”
“Fine with me,” the woman says, looking a little shell-shocked.
I hold Piper’s hand and walk her to the used sedan I traded in the Sprinter for. The day I handed over the Sprinter was almost as rough as waiting to kiss Piper, but then I bought roof racks for my board and discovered the bench seat allows Piper to sit right next to me.
“Where are we going for our date tonight?” She asks as I open the door for her.
“Surfing?” I have everything we need to surf, which means we can do it for free. And free is all I can afford at the moment.
“Or,” she says after I slide into the driver’s seat. “Hear me out—we don’t get in the water and focus our energy on the activity we were previously engaged in.”
“Brilliant. But let’s make it a lunch date.”
“Excellent idea.”
I twine my fingers through hers and drive the couple miles to my favorite beach which is more secluded than the main beach near Frothed. Luck shines on us, and I find a spot to park right away.
Our hands stay locked as we slide out of the car and find the bougainvillea covered gate that opens to a steep paved path toward a small cove. A gentle breeze rustles palm leaves together in a soft shushing sound that echoes the blood pumping through my ears.
Piper’s hand is small in mine. I brush my thumb across her knuckles, dipping between each one, reminding me of the rise and fall of a wave. When we reach the bottom of the steps, I lead Piper to an outcropping of rocks that provides us some privacy.
She leans against the rocks and takes my other hand to pull me closer. My fingers brush the sun-warmed, water-smoothed formation as they curl around her waist. Her long, bright skirt swirls around my legs when I step between hers.
“You don’t need this, do you?” she tugs at the hem of my shirt, and I answer by letting go of her long enough to pull off the T and toss it to my feet.
The collarbone hugging tan line that’s tempted me for months peeks beneath her cardigan. I trace my forefinger over the line, then slide back her cardigan and trace the line again with my lips.
Piper sucks in her breath and walks her fingers around my waist as I work my way from her collarbone to the hard line of her jaw just below her ear.
My journey continues all the way to her lips.
I take my time, because we have it now. I promised her I would make up for lost time when I finally kissed her, and I do.
After our explosive first kiss, these are slow and quieter but still burst with color, like fireworks mid-show. We’re building toward a grand finale, but that finale will only be the beginning.
Like surfing, kissing is a free activity, and one I plan to engage in with Piper as often as possible, even after we have the money for more expensive activities. I’ve already decided I enjoy kissing Piper more than surfing. And that’s saying something.
I’ve kissed a lot of girls, but I’ve never been able to say I enjoyed it more than surfing. Enjoyed it very much? Yeah. But surfing is surfing .
Then again, Piper’s…well, she’s Piper. And I reckon nothin’ else is ever gonna come close.
The End…
Almost. Keep reading for the Epilogue.