Page 22 of You Cake My Breath Away

“No,” he growls.

A weird warmth floods my stomach and launches my heart into my throat.

“End of conversation,” he snaps.

My shoulders fall, and I ball my fists at my side. He pauses what he’s doing and sighs loudly before handing over a slab of flooring. I figure it’s best not to poke the bear when he’s finally decided to stop pawing at me, but inside I’m doing a happy dance.

I slide the lip of the flooring under another one, and the victorious snap of them locking in place makes me grin. I chance a look at him, but the minute he notices me looking, his half smile falls.

“Good job.” He stands and walks to another part of the room. “You can finish that while I…uh work over here.”

Coffee curdles in my stomach, and I run my tongue across my teeth, trying not to feel the sting of rejection. I didn’t particularly want to work beside him either, but knowing he deems being around me such a burden makes my heart twist.

When Jessie was still alive, Archer would at least crack jokes or be semi-cordial; now he can barely stand to be in the same room without making me feel two inches tall.

Ignoring the stab of embarrassment, I finish the row where Archer stopped. Music blares to life, a rock song I’m vaguely familiar with, as I set my focus on another row of flooring. No words are spoken in the time it takes me to make it halfway to the door, and I don’t pay attention to the grunting man lifting shelving over his head in front of me. With sweat sliding down my spine, I sit back on my heels and groan as I try to get up.

“You okay?” Archer asks.

I huff, placing my hands on the floor and pushing up to my feet. “Yeah, I just haven’t been on my knees like that in a while.”

His snicker alerts me to the innuendo I didn’t intend.

“I didn’t mean…What I meant was I haven’t been on my knees since…oh my god, stop talking Tilly.” My cheeks heat and I cover my face with my hands since I can apparently no longer string together a coherent sentence.

Archer laughs again, and a weight lands on my shoulder. My mouth parts, lungs seizing when I realize it’s his hand.

On my shoulder.

“Sorry.” He recoils, staring at his hand like it’s a sentient being rather than the first thing that has touched my body in two years and not doubled me over in crushing anxiety.

I almost forgot how soothing touch can be, how it can bring back memories long forgotten. Tingles spread down my collarbone and convene in my chest, reminding me of my wedding day, the last time Archer ever hugged me. My eyes are glued to the spot where the heat from his hand has burned through my shirt and branded itself on my skin. The adrenaline flooding my system makes me dizzy.

“I’ve got to…drop off desserts for the restaurant.” I stumble backward, nearly tripping over the box of flooring.

“Tilly.” Archer’s voice is strained, but I can’t stop.

“It’s fine.” I turn toward the door. “I’m fine.”

Outside the bakery, the door a barrier between us, I realize I’m not fine.

Not one bit.

“It’s just a reaction, Tilly,” I coach myself as I walk to my car. “Anyone would react that way to being touched after not having felt human contact in so long.”

I hear the words I’m speaking aloud, but I know they’re only a sliver of the truth. If I was fine, I wouldn’t have wanted him to touch me again. My heart wouldn’t be doing a conga line around my lungs thinking about how the first touch I crave since my husband’s death is his best friend’s.

Chapter eleven

Archer

Present

Dear Seb,

I thought the longer I went without seeing Tilly, the easier it would be to eventually leave. Spoiler alert: it won’t be. I’m not sure any time or distance will be enough to get her out of my system. Well, I guess she’s never technically been in my system, but you know what I mean. She wore those damn space buns with chopsticks like she did in college, and I swear it transported me back in time to when I first saw her.

When she got with Jessie, she stopped wearing all her cool outfits, lost the spunkiness and effervescent bubbliness she always brought around. And I hated it. I wanted to tell her not to change, but it wasn’t my place. Jessie didn’t care one way or the other what she wore, but I would’ve made it a point to buy her the clothes she loved.

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