38. Tilly
Chapter thirty-eight
Tilly
S unlight spills into the room when Shantel walks in the front door carrying the ingredients I need for my rhubarb and elderflower cupcakes. Ever since I got home and put the display case and lights up at the bakery, I’ve been flooded with ideas for new desserts. It’s almost like my brain knows we’re inching closer to the bakery opening, and it wants to be sure I’ve got enough ideas to tide me over. Using Archer’s kitchen has been nice, but I missed my large island and double oven.
And as petty as it may seem, there’s no essence of Deidre here. The thought crosses my mind that Archer may feel the same way hanging out in the house where Jessie and I lived, but at least they were friends. There’s no love lost between me and Deidre.
“These better be good,” Shantel says, laying the bags on the counter.
“I think they’re going to be a hit.”
Dad asked me to bring a dessert to Thanksgiving with him and Gloria, and my nervousness about spending time with his new girlfriend had me anxious and in need of relaxation, so I chose to try out a new recipe.
Shantel sits on the stool at my kitchen island and lines the high-sided baking tray with parchment paper so we can roast the rhubarb. I zest a few lemons and place them to the side before mixing the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and almonds for the cake. Shantel works on the filling, whipping the cream to soft peaks along with the remaining roasted rhubarb, yogurt, and elderflower cordial .
I manage to get the cakes out of the oven before Archer knocks on the door. Ever since we got back from our trip, we’ve spent the majority of time up at his house, mainly in bed. I know there's stuff we need to talk about, like where we go from here, but I’ve been busy letting him rehydrate my body with his touch.
“What’s Archer doing here?” Shantel asks.
I shrug, dusting my hands on my apron before going to answer the door.
“Hey, baby girl.” Archer leans down to kiss me.
I shiver at his nickname and fight the urge to step back, to be worried about what Shantel will think when she sees us.
Old habits die hard.
He hands me a bouquet of flowers, and all I hear behind me is Shantel squealing.
“Did this…Did you…” She covers her face, shaking her head. “Finally!”
“Shantel.” Archer’s voice is a reprimand.
“I’m sorry.” She laughs. “I’m just happy for y’all.”
“Thanks,” I grumble, walking back into the kitchen and placing the flowers in a vase.
Archer sits beside her, plucking a strawberry from a bowl I have set aside for my strawberry and Nutella cake topping. Shantel’s smile reaches her eyes, and she can’t stop flitting between Archer and me with a look of sheer excitement on her face.
“Would you chill out?” I throw the dish towel at her.
“I can’t.” She’s antsy in her chair, bopping her shoulders to a tune only she can hear.
The timer dings, signaling my rhubarb cakes are finished cooling. Archer and Shantel chat, and I can’t help comparing it to how we all used to convene in the kitchen when Jessie was alive. Before things went south after Archer’s sister’s wedding.
I push away the negative thoughts and replace them with new memories, ones where Archer has shown me he does believe in my abilities. Our little family is back together.
For now.
A niggle of abandonment twists in my stomach as I watch them, worrying how long it’ll be until Archer leaves me again too. We still haven’t talked about his job opportunity, and I’m too scared to approach the topic. This thing between us is so new, and I’m worried the slightest complication will snap it in half.
“I’m gonna change for dinner.”
“You’re going to dinner with the parents?” Shantel asks, wide eyes pointed at Archer.
“With my dad.” I cringe at the thought of Gloria stepping into my mom’s shoes, then chastise myself because Archer’s in a slightly similar position with me being his best friend’s widow.
I go down the hall to my room, leaving them to talk about me in hushed tones. Closing my eyes, I do the breathing exercises my grief counselor taught me when I first lost Jessie and so much was changing.
The slight blush on my cheeks and the light that has returned to my eyes shines back at me from the mirror, and I’m thankful. Thankful I finally found a way through the grief and the sadness, that I’m allowing myself to move on in the wake of a terrible tragedy.
“Knock knock,” Shantel says from the doorway as I’m smoothing down my dress. “You look radiant.”
My cheeks heat. “Thank you.”
“You nervous?” she asks.
I shrug. “A little. ”
“Don’t be.” She reaches for me as if to pull me in for a hug but drops her hands before she connects. Feeling like this is one of those moments I spoke with my therapist about where people give me the opportunity to find comfort in them and I don’t push it away because of fear, I grab her and pull her into a hug. She murmurs into my hair, “You deserve it, and so does he.”
I squeeze her tight, relishing in the comfort of her arms.
“I’m glad y’all got out of your own way,” she whispers and backs away before adding, “It’s been a long time coming.”
I roll my eyes and head back out to the kitchen.
“I’m just being honest,” she yells, opening the front door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Finally alone, Archer nuzzles into my neck and cups my butt. “I’m hungry for dessert.”
“Later.” I playfully push him away and take the desserts to the car. “We’re gonna be late.”
The imposing door of Dad’s house makes my heart thump like a tribal drum. Archer’s hand is on my back, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping me standing.
“We probably should’ve talked about how to introduce me on the way over here,” he whispers as we wait for someone to answer.
“Well, someone wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves and kept risking my precious cake to get under my dress.”
He laughs. “Touché.”
The door opens and I’m hit with the aroma of turkey and celery and carrots. Immediately, I realize Dad is making my mom’s famous stuffing. My chest aches with the memory of sneaking into the restaurant on Thanksgiving to use the kitchen so all of the desserts would be ready at the same time as the meal.
“Hey sweet pea.” Dad ushers us into the foyer. He gestures to the box in my hand. “Is that your new dessert?
“Yup.” I hand the box to Archer so I can slip off my jacket. “Rhubarb and elderberry sponge cake.”
Gloria walks out of the kitchen in a beautiful orange dress, a tray of sweet potatoes in her hand. My mouth salivates at the melted butter on top, and I’m smacked with the memory of the last meal I made for Jessie: harvest chicken with sweet potatoes and brussel sprouts. I used to hate any form of yams, but I’ve basically lived off sweet potatoes for the last year, wishing that it could bring me back to the night before my life changed, and now I can’t stop eating them.
“Hi,” she says, pulling me from my spiral. Her dark hair is pinned back, a welcoming smile on her face. She stops beside Dad, eyeing the cake box in his hands.
“This is Tilly’s boyfriend, Archer,” Dad says.
Archer coughs like there’s something stuck in his throat, and I’m so shocked by my dad’s assumption, correct as it may be, that I’m frozen with my mouth open.
Gloria shifts the plate and extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, Archer.” She turns to me. “It’s great to see you again, Tilly.”
My smile can only be described as painful. Archer elbows me as we follow them into the dining area. I never imagined my dad picking up on whatever’s going on between Archer and me, but I guess love recognizes love.
I nearly choke on my own thoughts. I don’t love Archer. Or at least I’m not willing to admit it out loud yet. When you tell someone you love them, it gives them the power to take that love away, and since love seems to always flee from me, I’m hesitant to utter the words I know my heart feels. No matter how stupid it sounds, I know the minute I finally tell Archer I’m in love with him, it’ll give the universe an opportunity to take him away…like it did Jessie.
“How’s the bakery coming along?” Dad asks as we get seated.
I’m still struggling to find my words, so Archer answers for me. “It’s almost done. We’re waiting on another walk-in cooler, the front door, the register, and the specialty boxes she ordered.”
Finally finding my voice after a long drink of water, I say, “I need to get in there and organize some before we get the menu boards up and start posting signs.”
Dad nods, taking a bite of the food. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Your mom would be too,” he says, giving me a half smile.
My heart twists in my chest, and I look up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. Archer squeezes my leg beneath the table, and as I look at him a calm presence overwhelms me.
“You two are so cute,” Gloria says. “Have you been dating long?”
My dad and Archer simultaneously cough. Dad must not have told Gloria too much about Archer and me, or else she’d know the answer to that question.
“No.” I take a bite of macaroni and cheese flavored with Old Bay and hot sauce, effectively cutting off the rest of my statement. The creamy cheese cuts through the heat of the sauce, and the seasoning reminds me of my mom’s home state of Maryland.
“You’d never know,” she replies.
I’d kill for a glass of wine right now, but instead I shovel a forkful of sweet potatoes into my mouth.
“Dessert, anyone?” Archer asks, breaking the tension.
Dad and Gloria head to the kitchen as Archer and I clear the plates .
“Are you doing okay?” He caresses my arm, stopping a moment to toy with my bracelet. His gaze moves to my ring, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips before he meets my eyes again. I can’t tell if it pains him that I still wear the jewelry Jessie bought, but I’m not ready to part with them yet.
Throat thick with emotion, I nod. “I’m fine. Thank you for being here.”
I sigh when his lips meet my forehead. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
We crowd around the island, excited to taste my new concoction. The citrusy flavor and sourness of the rhubarb are cut by the earthy flavor of the elderberry cream in the center. It’s the perfect mix of sour and sweet.
“This is amazing, Tilly,” Gloria says, feeding Dad another bite.
“She’s right, kiddo. It’s fantastic.”
My smile splits my face, and I squeak out a thank you just as Archer’s hand grips my ass.
“You’re amazing,” he says, kissing my cheek.
My face heats, and I wink at him and divert my eyes to the cake on my plate. I can’t bear to look at my dad right now. Is he frowning? Upset that I’ve moved on with Archer? Or is he happy I’ve found love again? I was so shocked he called Archer my boyfriend that I didn’t take note of his tone earlier.
Dad calls Archer into the formal living room for a drink, while Gloria and I clean up the kitchen.
“Thank you for allowing me to spend the holiday with you,” she says, scrubbing a plate.
I struggle to find something to say and instead give her an awkward smile and say, “Thanks for making Dad smile again. He’s been way more open to my new desserts since you’ve come into his life, and for that, I’m forever thankful.”
She laughs. “You’ve got talent, and his stubborn butt was holding you back.”
I nod, realizing it’s exactly what my mom would’ve said if she was still alive.
***
For Thanksgiving night, the bar is filled with loud and rowdy patrons chatting and drinking as the band gets ready on the stage. One of my favorite artists, Sylvie, is behind the piano tonight, her curly brown hair pinned up like she came from her own family dinner. Cymbals clash as the drummer sneaks onto the stage with a beer in his hand, and a giddiness overtakes my body. I love all things music, and even though I can’t hold a tune, I’ll sing my heart out any time I can.
A squeeze on my thigh steals my attention. “One hour,” Archer repeats. “Then you’re mine.”
The kick drum is the soundtrack to our kiss, and the crowd disappears as our lips meld together. I sigh, thankful I decided to go out tonight instead of staying home. The first few holidays without Jessie, I locked myself in my room with a sad book and a bottle of wine. Most times I didn’t remember anything about the book the next day, but I also didn’t remember the puddle of tears I’m sure I cried into my pillow reliving the previous holidays spent with him.
“Archer,” a woman’s voice cuts through the din of the bar. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
My teeth clench together so painfully I’m sure I’ve cracked a molar when Deidre rests her hand on Archer’s shoulder.
“Deidre.” Archer shrugs off her hand, keeping his gaze fixed on the stage .
Possessiveness pools in my stomach, pushing its way up and into my chest. “It’s nice to see you again, Deidre,” I say, making my presence known.
She smiles and nods but doesn’t return the sentiment. Her eyes move back to Archer.
“I thought you’d be jetting off to shoot that little show you told me about, but I see you’re still with her .”
The snooty way she says ‘her’ ignites a fire in my veins, but Archer’s strong hand on my thigh calms me.
“What I do with my time is none of your business anymore, Deidre. Now leave.”
She rolls her eyes and throws her hair over her shoulder as she leaves the table. As glad as I am that she’s gone, I can’t forget her mentioning Archer will be leaving soon, leaving me to shoot that carpentry show. We haven’t spoken about long-term goals, so I’m in unsure waters, drowning without a buoy.
Archer’s tense frame makes me decide to leave that conversation for tomorrow.
He rises from the seat. “I’m going to get a drink.”
The band starts taking requests, and I get in line to scribble my three favorite songs onto the paper and slip it into the jar. Even if I only hear one of the songs tonight I’ll be happy. I turn and find Archer’s eyes on me as he drinks his beer. He winks, and my shoulders relax when I see the playful side of him is back and not affected by his ex’s childish remarks.
“You better not have requested Shania Twain or I’m leaving.” He smiles, beer froth coating his mustache.
I reach out, sliding my finger along the white foam before sinking it into my mouth. He growls and pulls me to him, cupping my buttcheeks as he tastes my mouth. His kisses are all-consuming and passionate, and sometimes I feel like I might trade the ability to breathe if I could live off his air.
The guitarist reaches his hand into the request jar and pulls out a slip. Dancing in my seat, I cross my fingers, hoping it’s my favorite Cranberries song.
“Ooo, this is spicy, but I love this song.” He hands the paper to the other players in the band so they’re on the same page. “This song is requested for a special someone, you know who you are.”
The crowd is alive with electric energy filling the air, and Archer’s hand wraps around mine and brings it to his mouth. Sometimes I almost forget it hasn’t always been this way, that we didn’t spend the last five years on opposite sides of a friendship that could’ve been more had we opened our eyes, but then I chastise myself because I know things happened the way they were meant to. I was meant to marry Jessie, and as unconventional as it is, I also feel like I was meant to reconnect with Archer in the midst of my grief.
“Here we go,” the guitarist says.
If I thought Archer was tense when Deidre made her comments, he’s near explosive when the band begins playing the opening chords to Jessie’s Girl . Everything I’ve eaten or drank today moves into my throat, and the sick feeling rises to my head.
Deidre.
I try to keep the tears at bay by sucking my cheeks in between my teeth. The stabbing sensation in my chest moves to my stomach, and I wrap my arms around myself to try to stop from breaking down. In this moment I need Archer’s comfort, but when I look to him, he’s stone. He’s not blinking, his body is rigid, and I’m not sure he’s breathing at all.
My eyes scan the room, looking for the woman who was so hurt by being rejected that she went so low as to bring my dead husband into the picture. When I can’t find her, I rise from my chair, intent on hunting her down.
“I forgot I have something I need to finish in the morning,” Archer says, still staring at the stage. “Let’s get you home.”
I close my eyes as the happiness I felt walking in here drains from me. I thought I’d have a bigger problem with the tabooness of our relationship, but one underhanded dig from his ex and he’s pulling away.