Page 56 of Plunge

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Thistle

WAKING UP IN my own apartment feels strange. The sounds of the city kept me up half the night, or maybe that was all the bubbling uncertainty and excitement as I signed paperwork with Maggie to officially end my term as a resident New Yorker.

I go downstairs to my favorite espresso bar and am relieved that this indulgence at least still feels as decadent as always. I buy a few pounds of the beans and make a note to keep ordering them once I’m set up in my new place. I even ask the barista to recommend an at-home espresso machine I could work on my own.

After I’m caffeinated, I pay Larry an exorbitant amount of money to handle the movers for me when they come, I sign power of attorney paperwork so Maggie can close this property deal, and I head back to Oak Creek.

Everything feels fresh and new, including my relationship with my old boyfriend.

I even pull up some country music to play on my phone during the ride, laughing that I would ever listen to something like that willingly. “Just practice for work with Archer,” I mutter as I turn into my neighborhood.

When I park the car, I switch my phone from airplane mode and frown to see I have a string of texts from Fletcher. I meant to call him last night after dinner with Sebastian, but I drank a little too much German beer with the new boss and never got a chance.

Call me, the first text says, and then I see he sent another one ten minutes later.

This isn’t working out.

If you’re leaving for work, I am too.

All I can think is what in the hell crawled up his ass, but the messages aren’t sitting right with me at all. I dial his number, but the call goes directly to voicemail. Figuring he’s just trying to get his nephew to sleep or maybe on the phone with his assistant, I head inside.

Mom is in the kitchen doing her sit-to-stand exercises with her friend Kathy, both of them wearing workout clothes like chair yoga is their latest marathon. “Hey,” I say, planting a kiss on Mom’s head.

“How did it go?” She asks, tapping me on the behind with her cane and grinning.

I tell them how I formally resigned from my job, sold the apartment in a few hours and solidified some details with Sebastian. “I’ll be advising and researching with him as his company works on selling engine parts to different manufacturers here in the States,” I say. “And he’s got some different contracts he needs advice on for the racing arm of the product development.”

Their eyes sort of glaze over when I talk about the differences in tax status between the two types of businesses, so I smile and explain that it’s a six month commitment, but I suspect it will wind up being closer to a year if things continue at the slow pace they’re going currently.

“I’ll start looking for a place here in Oak Creek,” I say to Mom, joining them in their exercises. “Maybe I can rent somewhere until I figure out my plans long term.”

We chat for awhile and my phone starts buzzing. Thinking it might be Fletcher, I spring up to answer it, but it’s just Archer sending me selfies of himself pretending he’s choked to death. “Sorry to squat and run, but I think Archer Crawford needs me,” I tell them. “Don’t worry about me for dinner. I’ll make Archer order in.”

I jog over to the office and Archer falls to my feet on the carpet, hamming it up. In truth, he’s not in bad shape. I think he’s just delirious and not thinking clearly. I help him prioritize the work load and sort out the personal tax clients from the small businesses whose paperwork is due first.

“Hey,” I ask him as he leans over my shoulder, squinting. “Do you know anything about your brother sending me weird texts?”

I bite my lip, wondering if I’m violating a bro code, but Archer doesn’t usually stand for unspoken rules. He’ll tell me if he doesn’t want to go there. “Let’s see,” he says. “Assuming you mean Fletcher and not Hunter, he was all out of sorts when I told him you left town. The last I saw him, he went for a jog.”

“And you’ve been here at work ever since?” He nods. I frown. I promise to help him for another hour, but I have to get to the bottom of this or it’s going to drive me bananas. This isn’t working out. What does that even mean? The last I talked to him, we had just finished making love and had shared an amazing connection.

I start to get annoyed at his behavior. I just spent the past 24 hours arranging things so I could focus on home and family and, well, him. Then I remind myself that I didn’t loop him in on any of my plans. I just got my epiphany and dove into it while he was asleep.

I sigh. No wonder he’s irritated.

I fly through an entire filing for the bakery and turn the lights off in the office, startling Archer. “Go get some sleep,” I tell him. “You’ll get more done tomorrow if you’re thinking clearly.”

And then I decide to walk to Abigail and Hunter’s place, figuring Fletcher might be over there since he’s still not answering his phone. I hear a baby crying inside when I knock on the door and I bite my lip, wondering if I’m intruding.

I knock again and eventually, Abigail pulls open the door, looking frazzled. “Hey,” I say. “Need a hand?”

“Would you?” She asks. “My thighs are burning and Louie hasn’t slept in hours.”

I take the baby and, remembering what Fletcher said, start marching up and down their stairs. Abigail sinks into the couch. “Oh thank god,” she says, when Louie quiets and just starts humming as I march.

“Where is…everyone?”

---