47. Homecoming #3
“I’m sorry, what?” asks Gerald.
“Which museum? In Mexico. Just in case I wanted to check.”
“Archer!” I stick an elbow in his ribs. Hot but rude.
“It’s all right, Liam,” Gerald says, a touch of sadness in his voice. “In his shoes, I might not trust me either.”
God, now I feel even worse.
“I can’t recall right now,” he says. “I’ll have to get Ted to pass you the details. Or you can try find it yourself. A little place in Oaxaca. Specialises in the Aztec line. But you should know, I put it on the slow boat. Might be a few months before it gets there.”
“Hmm.” Archer’s mouth is set firm, so I take his hand and drag him out past Ted’s desk before he can say anything else to upset Gerald. Poor, sweet old Gerald.
“I didn’t want it to get broken with the turbulence, you know?
” Gerald talks on. “On a plane, shaking around everywhere. It was very expensive to get it wrapped just right, and climate-controlled, and all that, but I don’t mind eating the cost. Not for something so important.
Culturally. Ted, would you grab that address for them? ”
Ted sighs so heavily it ruffles the papers on his table. “What address?”
“Oaxaca, son,” Gerald calls back.
“Wa-what?” Ted returns.
“Oaxa— Look, never mind.” He smiles up at us. “I’ll have him forward it.”
“Sure you will,” Archer mutters under his breath, so I jab him again.
If Gerald notices, he makes no sign, only settles his eyes on me one last time, that twinkle bright as ever. “Best wishes, lad. Look after yourself.” Then he disappears back through his door and into his office.
I drop my gaze to Ted, who rolls his eyes, then follows Gerald and slams the door behind him.
So…
I guess we’re free to go?
Archer’s quiet as we head down the stairs. It’s only when we get out onto the street he finally asks, “You don’t really believe him, do you?”
“Of course I do,” I protest. “He’s always been good to me. I don’t think he’s perfect, but come on. He’s just a harmless old man, not a criminal mastermind.”
“He’s about as harmless as a lion,” Archer muses, “and twice as sly.”
I laugh out loud at the ludicrous suggestion. “If you really think so, then you keep an eye on ghost activity for the next few months. Tell me if it doesn’t improve.”
“I will,” he mumbles.
“Good. Then you’ll see what I see. Just a lovely, if slightly dodgy guy, giving people like me a hand up.”
We walk a few steps on, and I can tell he wants to say more. I bide my time, waiting, then it’s, “You never have mentioned your father. Is he… around?”
“Oh, he left when I was five.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah. Just up and went. Never heard from him again.”
“Ah.” He says it sharply and pointedly.
“But I don’t have father figure issues if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I never said a word about that.”
“You said, ‘Ah.’”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I don’t just fall for any random kindness some older guy throws my way and blindly forgive all sins because I’m searching for the love that was withdrawn from me during such a crucial developmental stage.”
“Would absolutely never suggest it.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Okay. So what now?”
“Now…” He turns in the street, threads his fingers through mine, and pulls me close. “Now I take you home. And then we part. For a solid twenty-two hours.”
Just like that? Part? After everything? “I don’t think I can stand it.”
He gives me no more concession than a light chuckle. “You’ll rest and recuperate, spend time with your family, and have a beautiful night.”
I groan as he kisses my cheek. “If I must.”
“Then, you’ll turn up at mine, nine a.m. sharp, for your first day of work.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “Some overtime might be required.”
Christ, I hope that goes in the contract. “If you insist, Mr Gravely.”
Archer moans, the sound deep in his chest. “A lot of overtime if you’re going to be like that.”
“It’s okay, Mr Gravely.” When he leans in for another kiss, I dig my fingers into his back, holding him close. “You can work me just as hard as you like.”
“I will. I promise you.” He kisses me again, then leads me down the street to his car before things get too heated.
I throw one final glance over my shoulder at the ExorSquad office. Gerald’s there in the window. It’s like he can feel he’s been noticed, because he suddenly looks down at me. He grins wide, his golden tooth shining in the sunlight, and he gives me a double thumbs up.
Gerald.
I love that guy.
I give him a thumbs up in return, then slide into Archer’s vintage Aston Martin. It’s quite a step up from my mode of transportation my first time here.
Everything’s changed. For the better. One thing after another.
I take Archer’s hand and let him drive me away into what’s now our shared future. A beautiful future, somewhere between the worlds of the living and the dead, where everything’s possible, even after you thought it was all over.
But now I know, nothing’s ever over. Not really.
There’s no wrong that can’t be righted so long as you keep on, keep believing, and never give up.
Especially if your boyfriend’s a necromancer.
A hot one.
It’ll change your life.