“But you don’t have to worry,” he said. “I won’t try to become a member or anything. I won’t bother you again. Just…please read that. It’s a selfish request. I couldn’t explain myself very well after you rightly told me to go fuck myself.”
I flinched at the memory. It was the last time I’d seen him, same night that we’d met, when my anger had gotten the best of me.
“I am so very sorry for everything, Greer.” He wouldn’t look up even for a second, and when he hurriedly wiped at his cheek, I knew why.
It was a punch in the gut.
He didn’t say anything else. He walked away from me, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his retreating form. And once he emerged at the front of the house, he walked into the glow of the façade spotlights. I saw how he wiped at his face more and more frequently, even how his shoulders trembled.
“I don’t wanna see your face again, Archie. I’ve fucking had it with cheaters and liars. You’re just like the rest of them. So when I tell Angelo the truth tomorrow morning, you better not be there. You hear me? Go fuck yourself.”
“Archie, wait!” I yelled.
I sucked in a breath, and just like that, my nerves were fucking shot. Anxiousness had a tight grip on my chest, and I didn’t know how to act, just that I had to do something.
When I heard a muted round of laughter from inside the house, it alerted me to the fact that I didn’t hear any music. The costume contest had to be in full swing, and that settled things for me. My half-hour break was undoubtedly up, but I could message Penelope. They didn’t need a third DM for a contest.
I pulled out my phone and told Archie to get back here.
As I texted Penelope, my plan became clearer in my mind. I didn’t wanna read a fucking letter. I wanted Archie to explain in his own words, verbally, for me to hear. Because I had regretted the way I’d pushed him out the proverbial door since the moment it’d happened, and no matter how much he’d fucked up, I owed him an apology too.
When Archie reached me, I pocketed my phone again and returned his letter. “Keep it and tell me instead. I’ll hear you out.”
He sniffled and bobbed his head. “Okay. Thank you.”
He had to compose himself ASAP, because that shit hurt me. I didn’t wanna see him so upset, so at a loss, so sad.
“We’re going to my cabin,” I said.
“Cabin?”
I nodded and started walking. He must’ve seen them. The first one was right up ahead.
What a fucking night this was turning into.
CHAPTER 5
I felt like a moron for not being able to process fast enough, and it was as if my brain was keeping a pile of questions hidden from me. I knew they were there; I wanted countless answers, but the actual questions wouldn’t leave my mouth.
Well…one question crept forward.
Archie wasn’t here looking for friendship, was he? I mean, he’d said he had to try.
I glanced back at him briefly as I stepped up on my porch and dug out my key.
The redness around his eyes was caught in the dim porch light, and it bothered me to the point where I got irritated. Why did I care? His being upset shouldn’t affect me in the slightest.
I’d had five years to move on, and I fucking had. Archie had become the man I thought back on every now and then when the loneliness was extra rough. He was a shitty, painful, goddamn amazing, annoying memory. That’s what I got for trying to date someone so young. Hell, at this point, I was ready to raise my age limit from thirty-five to eighty. An eighty-year-old sub who didn’t have the energy to fuck around.
It infuriated me that I’d taken part in something that’d put Angelo in those shoes, when I knew firsthand how much it hurt to be cheated on.
Stepping inside the cabin, I flicked on the lights and waited till he’d entered before I closed the door again.
“Oh,” he whispered. “Blimey. You like to read.”
“Mm.” I kicked off my shoes. It was weird to see him here. So damn weird. “So, uh…water? Soda?” Tea?
I didn’t have tea.
He whipped around and looked at me for a second, then glanced at the small fridge under the counter. “Why don’t you tell me what you want instead? I’ll get it.”
I furrowed my brow.
He smiled slightly. “I’m going to be so bold and call you Sir and try to wait on you. So. Water? Soda?” He gestured for the fridge and walked over to it and opened the door.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he admitted, grabbing a bottle of water and a Coke. “If you kick me out at the end of the chat, at least I’ve gotten a few minutes of catering to you.”