Page 50 of You Cake My Breath Away

I’m just not ready yet.

“The signs are over here,” he says, snapping my attention to a dark office.

Following, I squeeze through the pathway lined with stacks of wood, side projects, and car parts. Light flickers on and Archer’s office comes into view. It’s large and has a distinct feel of the man standing in front of me. Pictures of Archer and Jessie, Archer and Shantel, and Archer and who I presume to be his brother are haphazardly hung on the wall. Yesterday’s coffee cup sits beside the computer on the spacious mahogany desk. Archer moves in my line of sight, blocking the rest of the desk with his broad shoulders.

He points to the other side of the office. “Jessie picked out a few.”

I slowly approach the covered signs, peeking over my shoulder to gauge Archer’s reaction. He’s busy putting something into the desk, his back turned to me. I shake out the nervousness making my fingers tingle.

Three signs are lined up against the wall when I pull off the cover. The first is a Hollywood style marquee where I can change the words to say whatever I want, maybe add a special or two. The next is a fold-out chalkboard sign that I can write on, and the other has a slot for me to put a poster style board inside. I imagine them sitting in front of the bakery on the sidewalk, people passing by and able to look at our menu, but I can’t help but feel disappointed.

It’s not that either of the signs are bad, but they aren’t the type of sign I imagined in front of my shop.

The last sign reads,St. James Bakery, and it’s large. So large I doubt it’ll fit on the small space between the door and the awning. I blow out a breath, steeling myself before I turn and meet Archer’s eyes. I feel horrible that I hate every sign Jessie chose for my shop, but none of them feel like…me. They’re more his personality, his style.

I slump as my ribs grow tight, fighting the grimace pulling at my face. Jessie was always so good with gift-giving. My ring, my bracelet, the house with the massive island and double ovens. He knew what made me tick, all the little ways that a spouse should. How did he miss the mark on this when he’s gotten it right so many times before?

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the garage.

I spin, taking note of Archer’s relaxed form leaning on the desk. He rises and looks through the window, a smile appearing on his face.

“I’ll be right back.” He moves toward the door. “I need to load up Mr. Robinson’s car, so it’ll be a few minutes.”

“That’s fine.”Totally fine.

Taking advantage of the alone time, I walk back to the picture wall and inspect the faces. Archer’s smile is what sticks out to me. It’s been years since he smiled so wide, happy and carefree. My eyes float to the desk and a blip of curiosity rises in me. What did he shove into the drawer he didn’twant me to see? I pull the blinds down a smidgeon and see him in front of the car with the hood up, taking Mr. Robinson through something about his car.

Curiosity overtakes me and I grasp the drawer handle, slowly pulling it out. Younger versions of me, Jessie, and Archer stare back at me from the ornate frame. Jessie is between me and Archer with his arms around our shoulders, but Archer’s gaze is focused on me, a smile clear on his face.

A swirl of nostalgia convenes in my stomach as I think back to the night before everything changed. A night I’m not sure would have made a difference in the long run.

Slammed by the sudden onslaught of emotions, I drop the frame onto Archer’s desk and back away like a cornered animal. Why does he have this picture on his desk like it’s…meaningful to him? He has plenty of pictures of him and Jessie laughing, skiing, and fishing. Why keep this particular picture? A memento of better times? Times he maybe wishes he could go back to.

Still backing away from the offending photo, I stumble into his cabinet and knock into another section of signs. The covers come off and I scramble to pick up the signs, eyes catching on the beautiful wooden one hidden under Archer’s desk. I lay them down and crawl across the room, ducking under the desktop to grab the one with my name on it.

I sit back on my heels, admiring the simple yet stunning sign. It’s a dark cherry wood, smooth and lacquered. I run my hands along the curves, wondering how Archer managed to manipulate the wood into the cursive form of my name. It’s…perfect.

Wetness slides down my cheek. I close my eyes and let the wave of emotions crash over me.

“Tilly?” Archer’s voice sounds closer, but it takes a moment before he pops into view. His mouth parts and shuts quickly, his hand automatically moving to the back of his neck to rub like the sheer sight of me makes him tense.

“It’s perfect, Arch.” My thumbs skate along the sign in my hands as I stare down at it, tears still burning my eyes. “Can I have it?”

“Yeah…yeah, of course.” His voice sounds different, a tad too high. “Let me load it up for you.”

He waits until I lay it down and get up from the floor before he moves toward it, not meeting my eyes. His gaze catches on the picture I put back on the desk, but he doesn’t say anything and diverts his attention back to picking up the sign.

Needing a moment to gather my thoughts, I don’t follow him. I pick up the stuff I knocked over and manage to get the covers back over the signs Jessie bought. Covering them almost feels like I’m also trying to shield him from seeing the feelings sparking between me and Archer.

“I made another sign,” Archer says, leaning against the door jam. “If you want to see it too.”

“Lead the way.”

“I made it before Jessie bought the others, but it’s okay if you don’t want it.” Archer opens the door to a walk-in closet style room at the back of the garage. It’s like the land of lost wood, filled to the brim with broken pieces and woodworking tools and saws—a scene from Final Destination if I’ve ever seen one. Archer moves a few boxes out of the way and unearths a small sign that he plugs into the outlet. A heart shaped glass tube in neon colors.

“You Cake My Breath Away?” I ask.

He shrugs, cheeks staining a red hue. “It’s a play on words.”

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