Page 23 of You Cake My Breath Away

Do I sound like an asshole for comparing myself to him? He treated her right, made sure she was taken care of and loved. He was always like that, taking care of us like a mother hen when we’d get too drunk or trying to bring up our spirits after Dad dashed them down. He was a good guy, the best.

But seeing her…man, it was like water being poured over my head after a long day working in the sun. And I feel horrible saying that. I wanted to embrace her, to tell her I was sorry for missing her birthday and the dinners thereafter, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to tell her why. She overheard Nora and Shantel pesterin’ me to tell her, and when I finally did, she reacted like I’d orphaned a bunch of puppies.

What kind of asshole keeps a surprise like that from someone? She would’ve been so happy to know about the bakery sooner, but the selfish part of me knew her happiness wouldn’t be directed at me. I shouldn’t care. I DON’T care. She’s still Jessie’s wife.

I keep telling myself that, like if I say it enough, eventually my heart and head will finally align, and the attraction will subside. But it’s been five years and my blood still hums anytime she’s near. Hell, any time I hear her name I get a spike of adrenaline straight to my cock.

I’m sure you’d say, “But Arch, you promised Jessie you’d back off.”

And I did. I found a way to keep her as far from me as possible, even at the expense of our friendship. I never once crossed a line or made him worry I still wanted her. I owed my life to him, because of your dumb ass, and his happiness was more important than mine. You made sure of that, right? I knew you were laughing up in heaven the moment the poker chip landed.

But that’s neither here nor there. Both of you assholes left me. And Tilly seems hellbent on making me break every promise I made to Jessie about her. I accidentally touched her today, and the look she gave me was almost…hungry. I know that sounds absurd, but it was like she wanted me to touch her again. I’m sure it’s just my brain twisting everything about our interaction.

She doesn’t think about me like that. And keeping the bakery stuff a secret didn’t win me any points either. She hightailed it out of there quicker than a kid caught out after the streetlights came on. Guess I was wrong, as I usually am, about what Tilly truly wants. Good for me I probably won’t have to worry about it much longer. Once I’m done with her bakery, I’m moving. HGTV job or not. The hardware stores manage themselves at this point, and it’s not like Mom, Dad, or Claire will missme.

The second interview went well, or at least I think it did. They asked me about those wooden signs I made for the bakery and if I’d be interested in doing a segment on woodworking if I get the job. I think that means I’m still in the running. The lady on the video chat was real nice, exactly your type of woman. All business and no play. I’m just joshin’ ya. She was a real sweet lady who wouldn’t have given your butt a minute of her time. Mom and Dad would have loved her.

I still haven’t spoken to Mom since dinner the other night, and I don’t plan to. I’ll never forget overhearing Dad say it happened to the wrong son, that your life was destined for something more. Something great.

They were right. It should’ve been me. It’s my fault you’re not here, even if it wasn’t me that put the pressure on your shoulders to succeed or me that gave you the pills. I never should’ve pulled into that gas station. I should’ve seen the signs for what they were rather than hoping you’d keep your word. Jessie had a split second to decide who to save when he lunged for us.

He chose wrong.

I know, I know. Family is important and we’re all each other has…yada yada yada. Don’t you ever get sick of being the righteous voice in my head? Could you take a break for a minute and just give me some brotherly love? If you were here, they’d still look at me as the black sheep of the family because of my job. Their noses would still be turned up when they spoke about me to their hoity toity friends at the country club.

The most I can hope for is that with this job, the Wilson name won’t just be known in the medical field but with households all over the country. Because of my hard work. They won’t be able to look down on me when all of their friends watch the show and see me. They’ll eat their words, and I for one can’t wait for that day.

If I’m chosen, I’ll have to be in Knoxville at the end of the year. I haven’t told Nora or Shantel about the second interview yet, but I’m sure they’ll be excited for me. I just have to finish all the work on Tilly’s bakery before I leave. I’m not sure how the next three months are going to go, but if I can make it nearly five years without crossing a line, I can do just about anything.

-Arch

Chapter twelve

Tilly

“Don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird,” I chant, standing outside the bakery with the paper plate filled with a chocolate pistachio cake and chai pinwheel cookies. With the key Archer made me, I came here to see if I could get a jump on taking measurements for my menu board. I didn’t expect him to still be here so late, but the light spilling from beneath the door shows me I was wrong.

I quietly peek around the corner. He’s hunched over the counter with his notebook in front of him. His brows are scrunched, a crease formed on the smooth skin of his forehead as he rubs the stupid poker chip he keeps with him in his other hand. I imagine he’s checking off his to-do list of things he needs to complete before he leaves.

The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

“Hey.” I squeeze the rest of the way through the door.

Archer startles and slams the notebook shut like a kid caught reading a nudie magazine. His face flushes pink. “What are you doing here?”

I laugh and move closer to the counter. “I thought we went over this earlier.”

He rolls up the notebook and stuffs it into his back pocket along with the poker chip. “You know what I meant.”

“I do.” I lay the plate of treats down, and my charm bracelet scrapes across the countertop. Archer’s eyes flit to my wrist, and I catch his briefsmile before he frowns and looks back up at me. “I made a new recipe I’m thinking about adding to the menu. I brought extra for you.”

He nods but doesn’t move to take one. I’m hurt, but not surprised. Apparently, eating my desserts would prevent him from entering heaven, and he’s quite worried about his soul. I snort at my inner thoughts, and he gives me a confused look.

“Are you worried I poisoned them?” I arch an eyebrow playfully, hoping to break the tension. “I promise you can’t taste the arsenic.”

He stifles a laugh and shakes his head like he can’t believe I just said that. When he still doesn’t speak, I go to his toolbox and pull out the measuring tape. “Fine, suit yourself. One of us has to get to work.”

In need of a pencil, I walk back and grab the one he keeps nestled on his ear, careful not to touch him. His eyes heat my back as I mark the wall exactly where I want the oversized chalkboard to be hung.

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