“Whatever. Just . . . next time you’retogether, keep it behind a locked door, okay? And not anywhere I might hear or see either of you before or after.” He grimaces. “I think I might be traumatized.”
I chuckle and mess with his hair, scrubbing it with my knuckles like I did when he was little. “You got it.”
Iwake up in Archer’s arms on Thursday morning to the press of gentle kisses against my eyelids.
“I have to get up.” His voice is low and graveled from sleep. His lips stroke faint trails down my face to my neck, then he sucks gently on the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
“I don’t want you to go,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around his neck to keep him in place.
“I’m coming back.”
I nod and hang on to him, keeping my hands on his back while he reaches for a condom. I don’t let go for a second, gripping his shoulders as he settles between my legs, wrapping my arms around him and hanging on tight while he moves inside me in leisurely thrusts. It’s slow and sweet and feels like goodbye.
After, we stay in bed and hold each other until he has no choice but to get up and get dressed or he’ll miss his flight. I’m not opposed to it, but I knew this was coming. Besides, it’s only a few days, right? I’ll just pretend that I’m the same person I was three weeks ago, before he arrived. I’ll pretend his leaving isn’t going to leave an Archer-sized hole in the fabric of my life.
I wait in the bed, holding onto the heat and the last moments while he moves around the room, packing up his things.
I squint into the sun as I walk with Archer to his rental car. It shouldn’t be sunny. It should be grim and desolate to match my mood. I shouldn’t have so much apprehension roiling through my stomach. It’s as if once he leaves my sight, I’m going to wake up and the past few weeks will be a dream, something that never happened, something I imagined.
The more time I’ve spent with him, the more I’ve learned about him—and his body—the harder it is to contemplate any sort of future without him.
I know he’s coming back. He’s said he’s coming back. But for how long? We haven’t discussed how long he intends to stay after Florida, as if we’re both scared to think about it too much. I can’t ask him to move here. That would be crazy, right?
He shuts the trunk and draws me into his arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”
I squeeze him tighter. “Call me before then.”
“I will. I’ll text too. And I’ll see you next week.”
We kiss, our mouths meeting with a hungry urgency as if he’s going to be gone a month instead of a handful of days.
“You’re both disgusting,” Jacob calls out as he passes by, his arms loaded with firewood.
We break apart, and Archer gives me one last peck. “See you soon,” he whispers before getting in the car and driving away.
The rest of the day drags on and on even though I stay busy. We have a few guests coming and going. I prep one of the cabins, but I’m slow and have no motivation. It’s as if all the excitement and light disappeared with Archer.
The next day, Friday, I catch Jacob as he’s climbing into the truck around two in the afternoon.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting Frank at Veronica’s.”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “Okay. Don’t forget I need the truck tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve told me three times.”
“I know, but sometimes when you’re out with Frank, you tend to get drunk and forget everything.” My voice comes out more snappish than I intend, which can only be because I’m stressed that I can’t count on him and I miss Archer. I’m also worried about Piper, who hasn’t returned my texts or calls since we spoke the other day.
“You act like I’m some kind of complete alcoholic. I get my work done. I do what you ask. It’s not a problem. Stop treating me like a child.”
“Stop acting like one.”
He swears and gets into the truck, turning it on. “I’m leaving.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” He slams the door shut and takes off down the drive, going too fast, probably to piss me off.