Page 10 of You Cake My Breath Away

I glance up at him with fire in my eyes, but he’s looking off to the side with his tongue in his cheek like he can’t even manage to make eye contact while he lies to me.

“You know, I thought you’d outgrow your asshole routine after graduation, but I guess not.” I throw a piece of a lemon bar at him and divert my eyes back to the mess. When Jessie and I started dating, Archer distanced himself. At first, I thought it was because he felt like a third wheel, but it became more apparent as time went on that it was me he had a problem with.

He shrugs. “I was busy. Must’ve forgotten.”

“Sure, you did. Like you forgot my birthday party.” The words slip out before I filter them, and my cheeks burn at my admission.

His voice softens as he crouches down to help me clean. “I didn’t think you’d want me there.”

Swallowing would be a good idea, but my tongue is too heavy in my mouth.DidI want him there? College me would’ve said yes in a split second. But me after years of cold shoulders where there used to be nothing but warmth hesitates.

He fills in the silence. “I had important stuff I needed to get done.”

“It’s fine if you didn’t wanna come.” Unable to meet his gaze, I keep my eyes focused on the ground. “You don’t have to make an excuse.”

“I’m not making an excuse. Some of us have to work for a living.”

I bite down on my lip, half trying to stop myself from cursing him out and half trying to stop myself from crying. Letting Archer see he’s affecting me in any way is the worst possible thing I could do. He’s only happy when he knows he’s pissed me off.

Foregoing a remark, I open the door to Nora’s and swing it shut behind me. Archer curses. I smile knowing I managed to hit him, as intended. Serves him right.

“Is that you, Tilly?” Shantel yells from the kitchen. “Mom, she’s here.”

Nora shuffles into the entryway, her long gray braids swinging behind her. Her deep umber skin is devoid of any wrinkles, and the smile she beams at me takes over her whole face. As far as mothers-in-law go, I hit the jackpot.

“Tilly, my dear. You look beautiful.” She tilts her head in acknowledgment to me and moves toward Archer, embracing him in a long hug. Even a year after Jessie’s death, she knows I still can’t bear to be touched. No skin-to-skin contact, not soft hugs or handshakes.

When your husband dies with his arms wrapped around you, it makes it hard to ever want anything else to brush along your skin.

I nearly gave the EMTs a heart attack when I screamed as they tried to assess me at the scene, and then I refused to allow the doctors or nurses to touch me at the hospital. I thought the desire for human touch would eventually return, but it never did. The therapist called it “touch starvation,” but to me it’s more like memory saving.

“I brought dessert bars, butsomeonescared me outside and they went everywhere.” My eyes dart to Arch, but his focus is on the ceiling.

“As long as they didn’t fall into the mud they’re fine.” Nora waves a hand in the air. “Why don’t you take them in to Shantel while I chat with Archer.”

Recognizing the dismissal, I head into the kitchen.

“Are those your new recipe?” Shantel steps away from the steaming pot and reaches for the box in my hands before pulling her hands back. I place the box on the counter so she can pick through them.

Her eyes close and she does a little shoulder shimmy. “These are absolutely yummy.” She reaches for another but the pot boiling over steals her attention. “Did I hear Arch out there too?”

“Yeah,” I grumble. “He parked in my spot then had the audacity to scare the shit out of me on the front porch.”

“I’ll never understand y’alls relationship.” She snorts. “I’m sure working on the bakery will help you guys hash out your problems.”

I blanch at her insinuation. Nora must’ve told her about our conversation from earlier. “I’d rather dip my hands in acid than be forced to work with the iceman out there.”

The creak of the wood floor and the exasperated sigh are the only indicators we aren’t alone. The man in question stands with his lips pinched, eyebrows furrowed, and an emotion I can’t place in his eyes.

With a frown, he turns and leaves the room, taking all the air in my lungs with him.

Chapter six

Tilly

Sunday dinners used to be filled with a table set for seven, lots of laughter, and a feast that could rival any holiday celebration. Shantel would bring her husband, I came with Jessie, and Archer would bring whatever flavor of the week suited his fancy, at least until Deidre, who surprisingly stuck around. We’d sit around the table slinging jokes, eating good food, and playing a game or two of poker until we were filled with fun and family.

The new four-person table is swallowed by the large room, no longer filled with spouses and laughter. I should probably feel guilty, but I’m relieved I’m no longer subjected to Archer’s dates, all placating me with “I’m sorry” and “It must be hard to be a widow” and “I can’t imagine how sad you are.”

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