CHAPTER 32 Millie Monroe
This is Falling
I can’t sleep.
Archer’s breathing evenly beside me in the bed in his suite, and I’m tucked into his side. I tilt my head up so I can look at him, and he’s so peaceful. So relaxed. So at ease.
So different from the man I met a mere two weeks ago.
Even at dinner, it felt like something was different.
I think because this is falling.
And if this is falling, it’s absolutely terrifying.
Especially because of what Diedrick said to me at our meeting this afternoon.
“That photo that went viral…was that yours?” he asked me.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t purposely jeopardize the privacy of a high-profile guest.”
He pressed his lips together in disappointment. He couldn’t directly tell me to advertise the fact that Archer and Ford Bradley are staying at the resort, but he could hint at it.
“You haven’t posted the long-form content you promised,” he pointed out.
“I’m gathering the material to do so and waiting on the algorithm to post at the right time,” I lied.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in another guest’s room,” he said.
My cheeks turned red at his insinuation. “I’ve made a friend.”
“Perhaps that friend would agree to appear in your content.”
“That friend has already made it clear he doesn’t want to be in my work,” I said.
“The algorithm cares about consent?” he asked. And then he said, “There are ways to change a man’s mind, you know.”
At that point, I felt that he hadn’t explicitly told me that I had to feature Archer in my posts about the resort, but he was indicating he expected me to. Until his next words.
“See what you can do to persuade him.”
It made me feel cheap and used, and then he added more.
“If you can’t, perhaps we’ll be forced to examine the length of your visit here and reexamine any chance of a potential partnership going forward.”
He dismissed me after those words, and I went to my room and cried.
He’s essentially bulldozing me into including Archer in my content, and if I don’t, he’ll cut my trip short and make sure I don’t get any sort of paid partnership after this contract ends.
I’ve already talked about how I’m here for an entire month, how I’ll be sampling every restaurant, and how I’ll be trying a variety of excursions. He knows what cutting me off will do. It’ll kill my chances at future deals because it’ll look like I was asked to leave because of bad behavior.
I’d hardly call respecting someone’s privacy bad behavior, but clearly Diedrick and I see things differently. It feels like he’s making me choose between a potential relationship with Archer and the entire future I’ve been dreaming of since I was nineteen.
Then Archer showed up and wanted to know why I looked so upset. I could hardly tell him that the hotel manager implied I should use sex to get him to agree to let me feature him in my content. It feels gross, and I’m half tempted to walk out on this place on my own.
Except I can’t. For one, I’m not ready to leave Archer. But for another thing, I signed a contract saying I’d stay here for a month. I can’t walk out, or—once again—it would be my career on the line.
I’m stuck. I need to work up the nerve to ask Archer if I can feature him, but I have no idea how to do that when I already know he’ll feel like I’m using him.
I’m not.
Of course I’m not.
I’m genuinely falling for him. I care about him, and it feels like we’ve both grown a lot in the short time we’ve been here.
He’s moving forward from his previous relationship, something that was clear during dinner.
He wasn’t tossing his arm over the back of my chair because he was trying to show off.
He was doing it because it felt natural. He seemed relaxed instead of tense.
We stayed at dinner later than we’d planned.
Conversation flowed, as did the alcohol.
We laughed. We ate too much. It felt like a double date as Archer and Ford had side conversations about their sports, as Tatum and I chatted about weddings and venues and cities since we’re both originally from Chicago.
All in all, it was a great dinner, and I think it’s exactly what Archer needed to let go of that last piece of his former relationship he was clinging to.
I felt it in the way he took me back to his suite and made love to me.
I felt those feelings deep in my gut reciprocated.
It feels like we turned a corner, but time isn’t on our side anymore. We’re on the downslide of our time here. It’s going to rush by us, and we’re going to head our separate ways back to our lives, both of us forever changed.
I manage a couple hours of sleep, and when morning dawns and Archer shifts, I’m already awake.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“Awful,” I admit.
“Oh no. How come?”
I lift a shoulder. “Probably the sugar from the margaritas,” I lie.
“That’s why straight whiskey is where it’s at,” he teases.
I can’t muster up a laugh.
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” he asks.
I don’t answer because I don’t want to lie.
“Can you tell me what happened yesterday at your meeting?” he asks.
I roll off him and sit up, pulling the sheet up with me to cover up my naked body. I draw in a deep breath.
“What is it, Millie?” he asks, his fingertips tracing along my spine. “We had fun last night, and it feels like you let whatever it was go. But now you’re back to being upset. Talk to me.”
“The resort manager is just not happy with the content I’ve been posting,” I finally say. It’s the truth, and it’s the closest I feel comfortable getting to the root of what he said. “I guess I need to do more excursions or something.”
“Okay, then let’s stop by the desk and book something. We can do jet skis, deep sea fishing. I saw some food tours and rum tastings. Hikes, ATV tours, beach volleyball. We’ll do it all.”
I glance over at him, and concern knits his brows. I can’t help when my eyes fill with tears.
He sits up and throws his arms around me from behind. “Jesus, Millie. Will you talk to me?”
“We only have two weeks left,” I say, my voice trembling. I leave it at that. I don’t say that I don’t want to leave him, but the implication is in the air.
“So that gives us two weeks to live it up,” he says softly.
“And head our separate ways at the end,” I say flatly.
He’s quiet behind me. “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he finally says. “Dreading it, actually.”
“And?” I ask, turning back toward him.
“Things feel so natural between us,” he says. “But—”
“But,” I interrupt, my voice flat.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “There’s a but, and it’s the fact that I have less than two weeks when I get home to get back in season shape so I can get out on the field the moment this suspension is over.
And then it’s games six to seven days a week for the next five months, maybe playoffs after that.
I have a lot to prove after sitting out for forty games, and I won’t get to be there to help nurture something between us.
It won’t be like it’s been for the last two weeks.
We won’t see each other, and you’ll go back home to your job, too. Your dreams. Your life.”
I hear his words, but I can’t help thinking he’s giving up without giving us a real chance.
Just because he and his ex grew apart as they each focused on their separate careers doesn’t mean he and I will.
But…
There’s a but.
I don’t know what I’m getting into with him.
Do I even want to be with someone who’s gone nine months out of the year?
The idea of being a baseball player’s girlfriend sounds fun, but what’s that life really like?
With him traveling all the time, with women throwing themselves at him in different cities.
I’ve never really considered it because I’ve never known a pro baller.
But now I do.
And I don’t want to let him go at the end of this.
Only…it doesn’t feel like that feeling is reciprocated. Or maybe it is, but he’s too scared to admit it. I want to shake him awake and remind him that I’m not his ex, that we won’t drift apart just because they did.
“What are you scared of?” I finally ask.
He’s quiet a few beats, and then he kisses my shoulder. “I’m scared of what’s coming in two weeks, but I’m also scared of jumping into something neither of us are really ready for.”
Beneath his words is the pain of what’s happened to him before—of trusting the wrong people, like his father.
Of pouring himself into a relationship only for it to end.
He doesn’t have a wealth of experience when it comes to women, and for as much as we feel like we’ve grown to know each other in the last two weeks, how well can you really know a person in that time period?
How much can you trust someone in that time period?
It feels real, but it’s easier for him to believe it’s an act.
Especially given my career.
He can’t give up that sort of power, and I can’t really blame him for that. It’ll hurt so much more in the end if this goes south.
And it’s not just that. He broke it off with Tatum to protect her, and she ran to his brother. He’s probably doing this to protect me, too, in some twisted way. To keep me away from his family.
We’re safe here. It feels like we’re untouchable in this bed, in this suite, in this resort. On this island.
But back in the real world, we’ll be hit with real issues. And what was only ever meant to be a vacation fling surely can’t withstand the pressure of those real-world issues.
It’s disheartening. Heartbreaking, really. It’s unfortunate. But it’s also what tells me I really have come to understand him in this short amount of time.
So as much as I want to tell him I’m falling for him, I keep the words inside. I’ll relegate those feelings to the back burner, and I’ll mourn them when I get home.
Because for now, I’m going to soak in every single moment we get together. It’s my only choice when he’s not willing to pull the end date off us.