44. Tilly
Chapter forty-four
Tilly
B eeping sounds from a reversing truck pull my attention to the street out front. The delivery man hops out of the cab with a clipboard and heads to the back to open the trailer. I dust off my hands, leave the contact paper in the bakery case meet him at the door.
“I’ve got a walk-in freezer build for Archibald Wilson?” he says, flipping through his paperwork.
Hearing his name steals the breath from my chest. It’s been five days since our blow-up, and I haven’t spoken to or seen him. I sent him one text on Saturday to let him know I needed space and time, and he didn’t send any the rest of the days. I guess he put as much effort into fixing things with me that he wanted to, and he showed me I was right in thinking I was just another conquest, a box to check off.
“Tilda St. James,” I say, hoping and praying my name is on the order sheet as well. Even though Archer owns the space, I’m still the one that paid for the freezer, so it damn well should be.
“Gotcha,” he says, holding out his pen. “Sign here, please.”
I scribble my name and back out of his way. He grabs a dolly and a few minutes later is backing down the ramp with my freezer. I should feel giddy that the last big item I needed to open is finally here, but I don’t.
All I feel is unsatisfied and empty.
It takes a few hours for the walk-in freezer to be built, but once the delivery driver leaves, I plug it in and get back to organizing the shelves. Most of my list is checked off, but I still have menu boards to do, a bakery case to clean and redecorate, and flyers to disperse. Grand opening is in less than two weeks, and I need to get the word out about my bakery. Archer took some flyers with him to his hardware stores last week, and the managers told him a lot of people seemed excited to try my desserts.
Imposter syndrome weighs on my chest, and the thought sends me back to being a teenager at the school bake sale.
No one wanted to try the tropical coconut brownies or the martian cookies I made, and when my mom saw I was the only one without people at my table, she whispered words of encouragement into my ears as she paid for a cookie for herself to eat.
They don’t have sophisticated palates like us, she’d say. And while she was right most of the time, she’s no longer here to give me the encouragement I need. I shake off the unwelcome doubt and piddle around the shop before I head off to do baby stuff with Shantel.
“Hey girl, hey,” Shantel yells from the side of the car.
“Ready to fill up this registry?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat.
We zip down the highway, passing the massive cowboy boots in front of North Star Mall. Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, the boots are lit up with Christmas lights, inviting everyone in to get their shopping finished before the holiday season begins. This will be my second Christmas without Jessie, and the thought of spending it alone strangles me as we step into the baby store.
“I wanna look at the swaddles and bassinets first,” she says, heading down the aisle.
After perusing bibs and highchairs, pack and plays, nipple guards and breast pumps, we hand over the handheld scanners and leave to meet Nora for dinner. Shantel’s energy is antsy as she fiddles with the radio, the air conditioner, and the windows, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Yup.”
I narrow my eyes. “Shantel?”
“Mmhmm?”
“What’s going on?”
She chews on the skin of her fingers, leaning forward to look at the light. “Nothing’s wrong.”
Knowing she’ll never come out and say what it is, I figure a change of subject is in order. “Have you and Malik thought about names for the baby?”
“Archer’s going to be at dinner,” she blurts out.
Well, that’s a change of subject if I’ve ever heard one.
“Okay,” I say, heart pounding in my chest. “That’s fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m totally fine.” I cringe at my high-pitched voice.
She laughs. “Really? Because your voice sounds like you’ve joined Alvin and the Chipmunks.”
I clear my throat. “It’s fine…I’ll be fine.”
“Mom just wanted to forget all the chaos and celebrate tonight before he leaves.”
The seatbelt nearly garrotes me as I lurch forward, eyes wide and pinned on her. “Before he leaves to where?”
Breaths coming in short bursts, I search my brain for any memory of Archer saying he’s leaving and find none.
“Where’s he going?”
She clamps down on her lips and blows out a breath through her nose. “He didn’t tell you? ”
“We’re not really on speaking terms right now.” I sigh. “Tell me what?”
“He got the job in Tennessee.”
My shoulders slouch with the rest of my body. “Oh.”
She flicks on her blinker, pulling slowly into the parking lot. Archer’s green truck is here, and immediately the appetite I worked up by perusing the aisles of Buy Buy Baby, vanishes. Shantel puts the car in park and turns to me.
“They called him on Saturday morning.”
The day after my entire world exploded.
Swallowing shards of glass, I paste on a smile. “That’s great news.”
My chest aches, stomach writhing as I try to work through this new revelation. Just last week I thought me and Archer were solid. We had finally abolished the line we drew between ourselves and come to a place where I thought we could move forward in a relationship, but within three days everything came crashing down. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against us from the start.
After reading his letters to Sebastian, realizing how much weight he’s had on his shoulders since his brother passed, I know this job is the break he needs. He shouldn’t have to give up anything when he’s given so much already.
At first I was angry, devastated to learn that Archer had mentioned the bakery to Jessie, offering up the place he wanted to open another hardware store, to make my dream come true. That there were moments in my life that were made special because of Archer, despite how much he tried to make it seem like I didn’t matter. Everything he’s done for the past five years seems like it’s been to show me love without me knowing it, but I don’t know how to reconcile that with feeling like my agency was stolen away—that I’m living a parallel life to the one I could’ve had if I knew all the information .
“Let’s go eat.” I open the door and get out.
Shantel catches up to me after locking the car. “Are you going to say something to him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s free to leave whenever he wants.”
“But what about you guys? Are you going to do long-distance?”
I release the hair tie holding my bun in place and run my fingers through the tangles before swiping them behind my ear. If I let her see I’m upset about how things turned out with Archer, she’ll tell him not to leave, and I can’t bear the weight of him trying to come up with an excuse for why he has to leave. I always knew it would happen, knew I’d fall for him and then he’d be taken from me. I guess I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
“No. We had a moment, and now it’s out of our system.”
A throat clears behind us, and I spin on my heels and take in the outline of Archer’s tall, broad frame, a bouquet of flowers at his side. Nora comes up behind him and waves like they both didn’t hear me downplay what happened between me and Archer.
His green eyes land on me, searing my skin with a single glance. My chest tightens as I give him a weak smile and embrace Nora. Less than three months ago I couldn’t bear to be touched, but Archer refused to let me fall deeper into the depression and forced me to come back to the land of the living. I can only thank him by letting him finally live his dream, even if it means I’m not part of it.
“Ready to eat?” she asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. Archer holds the door open for us, and his presence is a block of heat behind me as we walk to the table. He hasn’t said hello yet, and the now crinkled bouquet of flowers laying on the table makes me think he absolutely heard what I said. Not that it matters. Even though he ghosted me after apparently being in love with me for years, I still want to see him finally do something for himself.
“Congrats on the job.” I unroll the napkin and lay it across my lap.
He coughs and reaches for his water, eyes narrowing at Shantel. “Thanks, I was going to call you tomorrow.”
I want to say ‘don’t bother’ but my tongue won’t form the words. He’s already seen, already dug too deep into my wounds, and he apparently saw I wasn’t good enough, or I was too broken for him to put back together, and decided to leave before he had to let his walls down and show me he wasn’t perfect either.
“How’s the bakery coming along?” Nora asks, oblivious to the tension at the table.
Did he not tell her what happened? Archer looks to me, green eyes filled with something I can’t place. Remorse? Exhaustion? My gut tells me to make it clear there’s nothing else keeping him here, that he’s free to go and that I’ll be fine without him. The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“It’s going great. The freezer was delivered this morning and I have another carpenter coming to finish some last-minute things.”
“That was quick.” Archer clamps down on his lips like he didn’t mean to say that.
His words puncture my chest like a snake bite, venom seeping into my veins.
“Yeah, well you told me from the beginning you were leaving, so I had to figure it out myself,” I say, snarkiness coating each word.
“Guys,” Shantel chastises, eyes flitting to the server standing at the outskirts of our table. “Can we order our meal before the arguing begins? Baby wants food now. ”
I give the server my order, gritting my teeth against the words I want to say. Nora is quiet across the table, the corners of her mouth downturned, hands clasped in her lap. My body aches with the tension seizing my muscles. Why did I let my walls back down? Why did I think Jessie was telling me it was okay to pursue the stupid feelings I had for his best friend? Part of me wonders if he’s up in Heaven laughing at us both, wondering how we could ever think it was a good idea to cross that line.
Dinner passes with no more words between me and Archer. He tells Nora about the job, how it starts filming next week in Knoxville, and how the network is planning to keep him on as a regular guest for their other home improvement shows and reality programs. With each new revelation, embarrassment warms my face. How could I think I’d be enough for him to want to stay here? To give up his dreams for? My shoulders droop as a picture of the little girl who was never good enough for anyone pops up inside my mind.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Archer asks, knocking his boot against the bench outside after dinner.
“For what?” I bite out.
Nora and Shantel head toward the cars, leaving us to speak in private.
“Tilly.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Please don’t do this.”
I scoff. “Do what, Archer? You’re leaving, just like I knew you always would.”
“That’s not…”
“Not what?” I ask. “The truth? Not what’s happening? Save it, Arch. I should’ve taken you at your word when you said it at the beginning instead of thinking I was enough to keep you here.” I know I should stop speaking, stop letting the word vomit spill out of me, but I can’t. “We had a good time, the sex was fantastic, but that’s all it was. A good time. ”
I feel the words land on their target, and I’m immediately disgusted with myself for diminishing what happened between us to a simple ‘good time,’ but the words are already out, and I can’t force them back inside. My heart tries to remind me of the pure love that was written in his journal, but my head reminds me of all the reasons I’m not right for him. The reasons I wasn’t enough for him to fight for back then.
Before I allow my mind free reign, I shove the thoughts back into a box and square my shoulders. I’ve spent too long thinking I’m not good enough for people, and right now, all that matters is I’m good enough for me.
White clouds puff out of Archer’s mouth as he sighs. “Can you just stop for a minute—”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes and snuggle into my cardigan, bracing against the slight chill.
He holds up a finger and walks to his truck. I bounce on my heels and try to see what he’s reaching inside to grab but can’t see over his dashboard. It takes a moment, but when he shuts the door and makes it back to me, he has a large manila envelope in his hands.
“Here’s the paperwork for the bakery.”
My heart plummets, throat tightening when he places the paperwork in my hands. I open the clasp and pull out the contract. Reading is made harder by the burning tears at the backs of my eyes. My mouth is dry, palms sweaty as I shove the papers back inside the envelope. Words evade me as tears press against my eyelids, and all I can manage is a nod and a faint smile.
Archer grabs my hand and squeezes, and I feel that touch inside my chest like his hand is wrapped around my heart. He leaves me standing in front of the restaurant gutted and broken.