37. Archer
Chapter thirty-seven
Archer
Present
B acon could very well be considered the eighth wonder of the world. Its smoky flavor, salty goodness, and its sheer versatility should be taken into consideration by whomever is leading the search. I ponder this as I stand in front of the stove making breakfast for Tilly.
After reminding her it’s okay to be happy, she’s stayed with me all week. Each morning, I’ve made it a point to get out of bed earlier than her, so she doesn’t have to go through what she did the first time. Seeing the pain in her eyes is something I wasn’t prepared for, something I don’t yet know how to handle. We’re still new, and we haven’t really talked about what’s going on between us or long-term plans, but I know one wrong move and she’ll bolt before I have a chance to tell her, to show her how much she means to me.
My entire world has seemed like it’s been rotating the wrong way on its axis, but with Tilly in my arms, everything finally feels…right. Like it’s always been this way, even though it hasn’t. I try not to think about how things would’ve been had I asked her out sooner, had I not left life up to chance, but even I know you get what you deserve. And I didn’t deserve Tilly back then. Hell, I’m not even sure I deserve her now, but I’ll be damned if I look fate in the face and let go of this second chance it’s blessed me with .
“Archibald Wilson.” Tilly leans against the kitchen doorway in my two sizes too big t-shirt. It grazes her knees, leaving her gorgeous legs for viewing. Her chestnut brown hair is thrown into a messy bun, and the pink in her cheeks makes me want to kiss her until her lips match the same color.
“Tilda St. James,” I reply, flipping the bacon.
“How’d you know I love bacon?”
I laugh, and she walks over and slinks her hands around my waist, resting her head on my back. She does this when she wants comfort but isn’t ready to be touched yet. I’m slowly learning what type of touches make her draw away and which are comfortable for her. Her touch starvation is a minefield we’re both tiptoeing through, but it’s worth it to ease her into familiar touch again.
“I sat across from you at breakfast study group for an entire year. I’d have to have amnesia to not remember your pile of ten pieces of bacon with syrup.”
She chuckles and pushes against my arm, her signal she’s ready for touch. I pull her to my side, dropping my head to kiss her. She tries to deepen it, but I swat her rear end and laugh at her yelp. The last thing I need is her to get burned by some popping grease. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you some.”
“Aye aye, captain.” She salutes me and snags the cup of green tea I made her.
Having her in my space, walking around my house in my clothes, getting to wake up next to her, almost feels like a gift I’ve been waiting years to unwrap. I’m still in shock at what’s finally transpired between us, and I know there’s so much we need to discuss, but I’m not ready to make waves in our steady sea as we get to know each other like this .
As she gets comfy at the table, I bring her a massive plate of bacon accompanied by a set of pancakes and eggs. We stare each other down over the rims of our mugs, both eager to see who is going to reach for the food first. Primly, she sets down her cup and lays her palms on the table. Confused, I tentatively reach for her hands.
“I’ll pray,” she says.
I bow my head and close my eyes, listening to Tilly pray.
“Thank you for the beautiful day, for the amazing creation that is bacon, and thank you for the sexy man who made it. Amen.”
I snort, nearly causing coffee to shoot out of my nose. “Amen.”
She draws her lip between her teeth, eyeing me across the table as she reaches for a piece of bacon. That singular look has my appetite ramping up for something else. Something I know will fill my heart more than my stomach. I’ve always thought of sex as a means to an end, a release until the next time, but with Tilly it’s a need. I crave her body, her mind, her essence, like it’s life-giving water.
“Are you ready?” she asks, pulling me back from my daydreaming.
“For?”
“To bake, silly.”
***
When Tilly told me she needed help baking for the local shelter, I thought she meant we’d make a pie or something together, not two hundred coconut-grapefruit sugar cookies and a large German white chocolate cake. Standing in front of the island covered in flour, Tilly places the finishing touches on her sugar cookie icing before turning to me with a wide smile that steals my breath.
“What do you think?” she asks, using the back of her hand to push her hair back. A dollop of coconut icing drops onto her cheek, and I lean over to lick it off. She giggles and dabs my lips with the icing bag before reaching on tiptoes to steal it back with a swipe of her tongue.
“I think you’re gorgeous…” I plant a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Funny.” Another one on the slide of her neck. “Talented.” I pepper kisses down her jawline until I reach her chin and tilt it up. “Mine,” I rasp out before my hand snakes into her hair, and I devour her sweet tasting lips.
Tilly drops the icing bag onto the island and wraps her arms around my waist, moaning when my hard as steel erection brushes against her stomach. A groan rumbles in my chest when she presses close to me and grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss.
“Yours?” she asks, out of breath and panting.
My heart ramps up, grunting like a caveman at the thought of her truly being mine. Of her laughs, her kisses, her smiles being only for me. Cooking dinner for her, watching her as she bakes and dances around the kitchen, relaxing on the couch with her after a long day. I’ve wanted all that with her for longer than I can remember, and it’s all within my grasp.
Not if you get the job and leave.
The thought barrels into me and sours the cookies in my stomach. Tilly notices when my arms go slack around her, and the middle of her brow crinkles in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
I try to shake off the thought, to bring myself back to the present instead of the future by gripping her tighter and nuzzling into her neck. I can’t bear to look at the questions in her eyes when I don’t have the answers yet. “You’ll always be mine.”
“What happe… ”
My phone ringing on the island stops whatever she was about to ask. I can’t say I’ve ever been thankful to hear from my father, but in this moment, I’d rather take whatever verbal abuse he’s about to give than figure out what to tell Tilly about what just broke my concentration.
“I’ve gotta take this.”
“Okay.”
I give her one last kiss and reach for the phone. Walking into the living room, I stand in front of the picture of me and Seb hanging on the fireplace, willing him to give me strength to handle this conversation.
“Hello?”
“Archibald,” my father’s gruff voice comes through the speaker. “Your mother wants to know if you’re going to grace us with your presence at Thanksgiving this year.”
Thanksgiving? How is it that soon? And why would they want me there when I haven’t attended a Thanksgiving with them since Sebastian passed?
“I hadn’t planned on it,” I reply.
I normally spend the holiday with Nora and Shantel, my actual family, and Tilly normally spends it with her father.
He grunts like it’s the exact answer he expected me to say. “Good,” he mumbles. I wait, because I know there’s more. He wouldn’t call me for just any reason. “Well, since you’re not going to be doing anything important, Mr. Kennedy at The Dominion needs a new bar top and I told him you’d do it.”
I sigh. This is typical of my father. He wants nothing to do with me, yet he wants to use me to better his standing at their country club. At least my construction company gets good word of mouth from it.
“How much?” I ask. If I’m going to do this in my spare time away from Tilly and the bakery, it better be worth it financially .
“How much?” He scoffs like I’ve offended him.
“Yes, Father. I don’t work for free.”
“I heard you’ve been working for free someplace else,” he replies. “Everyone’s been talking about you and Jessie’s girl.”
He knows her name. He hired her family to cater Claire’s wedding, and Tilly made the cake. He’s being the asshole I know him to be by not addressing her correctly to spite me.
Shards of glass stab my throat as I swallow. “What of it?”
He laughs. “Wilsons don’t do sloppy seconds, Archibald. Don’t tarnish our reputation by having the gossip mill running.”
I dig my fingernails into the brick fireplace mantle, clenching my jaw as pain slices across the pads, ready to curse out my father for even insinuating Tilly’s worth, like he knows the value of anything but pride. Warm arms slide beneath my shirt, and my abs tense as Tilly’s hand ventures south. I suck in a breath and close my eyes when she sneaks below my waistband.
“Is he coming?” My mother’s chipper voice floats into my ear, reminding me I’m on the phone.
I cough, sputtering at her choice of words just as Tilly’s smooth hand finds me hot and heavy for her.
“I’ll contact Mr. Kennedy.” I disconnect the call and pull Tilly around to my front, pressing her back to the fireplace. “You’re a naughty girl.”
She draws her lips between her teeth. “I was lonely in there, and you seemed tense. Everything okay?”
I kiss her softly and pull her back into the kitchen, trying to figure out what to tell her. She’s never really asked about my relationship with my parents, but I’m sure Jessie probably told her.
I shrug. “My parents were asking if I was coming to Thanksgiving.”
“Oh.” She leans against the fridge. “Are you going? ”
“Hell no.” I scoff. “I usually spend it with Nora and Shantel.” She looks down at her shoes, not meeting my eyes. I reach over and tilt her chin up with my knuckle. “What’s up, Til?”
“Would you maybe want to…spend it with me?” Her coffee-colored eyes are filled with so much hope my chest constricts. “I mean, I know we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing, but…”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “I’d love to spend the holiday with you.”
She smiles. “Really?”
I figure saying “I want to spend every holiday with you for the rest of my life” is probably too soon and will scare her off, so instead I pull her into my arms and kiss her delirious. I so badly want to ask her to let me love her, to be my everything, but if I dump the magnitude of my feelings on her so soon, she might get overwhelmed and want to take a step back. Not to mention, things are still up in the air with the hosting job. As much as it pains me to take it slow, I can’t risk losing her after she’s finally given me a chance.