CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sara
"Peaches..." Archie reached for me as I pulled away, my face burning with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, my voice so small I wasn't sure he could hear it over the music. "I shouldn't have done that."
Archie didn't let me go. Instead, he pulled me back into his arms, holding me close. "If you ask me, I want you to do that. I really do. It's just... not the right time."
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You and me, Peaches," Archie murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "When we happen, if we happen, it's going to be real. Not just a moment of weakness. Not just some fleeting impulse."
His arms tightened around me, holding me in place. "Because for me, there's no going back. So you need to be absolutely fucking sure."
Then he pulled away just enough, his hands cradling my face, firm yet achingly gentle, his face so close to mine. "And I'll wait. As long as it takes. Until you tell me that there isn't a single chance for me in this lifetime." His eyes softened, but the certainty in them remained. "Because you're my one, Sara. You're it."
I stared at him, completely at a loss for words.
My heart clenched, then melted, unraveling at the edges. Butterflies stirred in my stomach—restless, thrown into disarray. Emotions crashed over me, wild and untamed, pulling me in every direction at once.
No one had ever said words like that to me. Not like this. Not with such quiet conviction, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones.
Oh, Archie...
My eyes burned, prickling with tears. I was struggling to hold myself together, breaking apart right there on the dance floor surrounded by moving bodies, lost in the deafening beat. And yet, he was the only one I saw.
"And in the meantime..." His thumbs brushed gently against my cheeks, wiping away tears that had yet to fall. "I'll be on the sidelines, looking out for you. Ready whenever you need me. You just have to ask, Peaches, and I'll come running."
Every word he spoke was a vow, woven with patience, bound in devotion, a quiet promise of unyielding care.
Every feeling of not being enough, every whisper of failure that had clung to me washed away in that moment. The weight I had carried, the doubt I had let define me, unraveled beneath his words, dissolving like shadows fading at dawn.
He made me feel seen. He made me feel whole.
He made me feel worthy again.
And I cried. I couldn't stop myself anymore.
I pulled him down and wrapped my arms around him, holding on with everything I had. Thankful for him. Grateful for him.
Tears spilled freely, and I didn't care who saw. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing, my shoulders shaking. He tensed beneath my touch, his voice laced with panic as he whispered in my ear, "Did I say something wrong?"
I only sobbed harder.
It was as if everything crashed down on me at once. Every feeling I had buried, every ache I had silenced, breaking free all at once—unstoppable, overwhelming, pouring out of me like a flood I could no longer contain.
"Sara..." He stroked my back, his voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?"
I clung to him, my breath hitching between sobs.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Thank you for saying that to me."
He didn't reply, but the way he sighed in relief told me everything he couldn't put into words.
We held each other for a long time, neither of us willing to let go. Until I felt a finger poke my back.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Emma grinning at me, but her smile quickly faded into concern the moment she saw my tear-streaked face.
"What the fuck happened?" she yelled, her voice cutting through the noise. Then her furious gaze snapped to Archie. "What did you do?"
I shook my head, still unwilling to let go of Archie. "These are happy tears. Don't worry." I let out a shaky chuckle, a sob slipping through at the same time.
Emma's eyes widened. "Happy tears?"
The look on her face sobered me up a little. Taking a deep breath, I finally pulled away from Archie, cold air rushing in to replace his warmth, even though I knew the room was stiflingly hot.
"Not like what you're thinking," I told her, shouting a little so she could hear.
Emma's shoulders slumped. "It's not?" She looked downright disappointed.
I chuckled, wiping my damp cheeks. "No, it's not."
She pursed her lips. "Damn. For a second, I thought I missed something big."
Behind her, Julian stood, locking eyes with his brother in a silent exchange, the tension between them almost palpable. After a moment, Archie gave a subtle shake of his head before turning his attention back to me.
After that, we made our way back to the bar. Julian ordered something that made Emma's brows knit in disapproval. But, as expected, he ignored her reaction completely.
The four of us stood there, huddled close. Ice clinked against glass, the air buzzing with laughter, loud music, and the hum of conversation. Emma nudged Julian when he took a sip of his drink, her eyes narrowing in mock disapproval, but he only smirked and took another sip just to spite her.
Emma, never one to let silence settle for long, pulled me back onto the dance floor, and with an exaggerated sigh, Julian followed. We danced, we laughed, and for a little while, I let myself get lost in the moment, in the music, in the simple joy of being surrounded by friends. I laughed and danced until my feet ached and my cheeks hurt from smiling too much.
All the while, Archie stood at the edge of the crowd, a bottle of beer in his hand, his gaze never straying far from us, watching us closely.
I had fun that night. Silently, I thanked Emma for dragging me here.
Julian and Emma were an unexpectedly hilarious combination. Tiny Emma, barely five feet tall, with her innocent, wide eyes, rosy cheeks, and sweet face, somehow bossing around someone as big and intimidating as Julian. She ordered him to fetch drinks, find us a free table when we got too tired, and even smacked his chest when she caught him drinking something too strong.
Julian put on a complete show of protest—grumbling, sighing, even throwing in an eye roll for good measure—but in the end, he did exactly what Emma told him to do.
As I sat, my gaze kept drifting to Archie, his words looping in my mind like a song I couldn't turn down. No matter how much I tried to get lost in the laughter and the thumping bass, his voice remained a steady hum beneath it all.
The way he had looked at me—the certainty in his expression, the unspoken promise in his tone—refused to fade. Even as Emma chattered beside me and Julian threw out sarcastic remarks, my mind kept pulling me back to him. To what he had said, the weight of it, and the emotions it stirred. I kept searching for clarity, trying to untangle the mess of feelings he left in his wake.
The thought played on repeat, even as we made our way home at two a.m. Archie remained quiet and composed, as always, while Emma and Julian more than made up for the silence, their playful bickering and laughter filling the car. But no matter how loud they were, my thoughts were louder.
And then my mind wandered to what I felt with Cole.
Did I still love him?
The truth pressed against me was undeniable. I did. I loved Cole in a way that wasn't so easily undone. It wasn't something I could switch off or erase, no matter how much I wanted to. It was still there, deep-rooted, refusing to let go.
Maybe Archie was right.
Maybe I wasn't ready for him.
Perhaps it was dependence, comfort, or the pull of familiarity that I felt for him. Maybe it was just because he had been there for me when I needed someone the most.
Archie pulled up to the curb in front of my house, the engine humming softly before he shifted it into park. One by one, we spilled out onto the quiet street, the night air crisp against my skin.
I was still laughing, breathless and lightheaded, at Julian's latest jab about Emma's height. He had spent the entire ride coming up with ridiculous nicknames for her, each one more absurd than the last—Tiny Terror, Teacup Tornado, Pocket Rocket, Mini Menace, Smol Storm, TinkerHell.
Then he decided on one. "Seriously, I think TinkerHell suits you best," Julian teased, smirking as Emma shot him a murderous glare.
I clutched my stomach, barely able to catch my breath between fits of laughter.
But then my eyes landed on something—or rather, someone—and my laughter faded.
Cole.
He sat on the doorstep, watching me.
Slowly, he rose to his full height, straightening his coat with an air of quiet control. His gaze flickered from me to Archie, who stood just behind me, unmoving. I felt rooted to the spot, my breath catching in my throat as he took a step closer, tension curling around me like an unseen force, impossible to ignore.
The surrounding air also grew tense. I could feel it. Emma's fingers brushed my arm, a silent urge to pull me away. Julian, usually so relaxed, had gone rigid beside her.
Cole's eyes lingered on Archie for a moment before drifting back to me. And the instant our gazes locked, something in his expression softened, like a storm settling into calm.
Then he smiled. A slow, gentle smile.
"Hey, babe. I've been waiting for you."