Page 52 of You Cake My Breath Away

A slammed door and the crunch of gravel alerts me to Nora’s retreating car. Standing with his arms stretched above the doorway, Archer’s gaze is locked on me. Something passes over his face, and the curiosity about what the almost kiss meant is cleared up when he says, “Let’s get you home.”

We gather the two signs and blankets to lay them on, placing them in the bed of his truck. I don’t wait for him to open my door and instead heave myself up with the running board and handle. In the side mirror, Archer’s reflection shows me he’s not as unaffected as he wants me to believe. His hands clench by his sides, and he swivels his neck in a move that looks like he’s trying to dispel tension before he gets inside.

Leaning back against the headrest, I close my eyes and don’t open them until we arrive back at the bakery. No words are exchanged as we move in tandem, each taking a sign into the shop and laying it on the floor.

“I’ve gotta get going,” Archer says, toying with his keys.

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he parrots.

I fold my lip under my teeth, trying not to let my disappointment show. “I have work to do. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t try to stop me as I walk through the stainless-steel door and into the back.

Chapter twenty-six

Archer

Three Years Ago- Ring Shopping

Dear Seb,

Remember how we used to spend every weekend at the mall as teenagers, hanging out with our friends in the food court and dropping pennies off the balconies trying to see if we could hit someone? Yeah, we were dickheads. I don’t say this because I may or may not have been the victim of a little shithead pelting me with a penny from said balcony, but because now that I’m a more adultier adult, I understand how annoying we were back then.

I thought Jessie dragging me out to the mall to go “shopping” meant that we’d look at some new golf clubs or tools, maybe even stop in the sports store for some new jerseys for football season. But nope. He meant RING shopping.

FML, I know, right? I almost think he made it seem like a bro date so I wouldn’t flake out on him. We’ve only ever talked about that night once before, but we were both tipsy, and I doubt he even remembers. But I do. I remember telling him to treat her right, making him think I’d moved on and wasn’t hot for his girlfriend anymore. What else was I supposed to say? Should I have told him I think about kissing her more often than I should? That every time I try to move on and sleep with someone else that it’s her I’m imagining beneath me?

Pfft. That would’ve gone over well, I’m sure. But it’s beside the point. I started talking to this new girl, Deidre. She’s smart, has a good sense of humor, and comes from a good family. Apparently, Deidre’s mom plays tennis with Mom occasionally, and they orchestrated their own little “meet-cute” as Mom called it. At least Deidre isn’t an airhead, and she’s pretty, too. She’s not Tilly, but I know no one ever will be, so it’s time to move on.

Anyways.

After being attacked with pennies, Jessie and I stopped by a store in the mall. He looked around at a few sets, and each time my stomach did a spin when he chose the largest ring. I could imagine Tilly’s dainty fingers being swallowed by the diamond, weighed down at her side. She wouldn’t be able to lift her hand to wave at anyone. He’d get pricing on the ones he liked and move on to the next store to repeat the process.

We went to three more jewelry stores before he decided it was time to go to Tiffany’s. The rich smell of the store was nauseating. It reeked of the expensive perfume Mom wears, like Saint Laurent or Dolce & Gabbana. A woman in a sharp looking pantsuit approached us with a toothy smile, and my teeth nearly cracked returning it. It was uncomfortable, but I guess I’ve always been the one uncomfortable around wealth because of how our parents throw it around.

The day wore on me, emotionally and physically, and I couldn’t see straight. Jessie kept showing me rings, asking what I thought about each of them, and the saleswoman would huff every time I said they looked “fine.” Like how dare I use such a lackluster word to describe a rock that cost more than my truck.

I broke. I couldn’t watch him keep picking things I knew she’d hate. She always commented on rings any time a celebrity got engaged and received a massive ring. “Such a beautiful ring. I think I just want a simple solitaire with a band when I getmarried,” she’d say. He never picked up on it, and I didn’t want her to be walking around with a ring she disliked.

I helped him choose a marquise solitaire I thought she’d like, and even though there was a hint of a frown on his face, he handed over his card. I think somewhere in his mind, he knew that I knew her better, understood her more. But that doesn’t change the fact that she fell for him.

There was no doubt she was going to say yes to his proposal, but at least I’d know she was getting something that was about her, not about what he wanted.

I feel like if you were still alive, you’d be writing one of those “Am I the asshole” posts about me on Reddit so people could comment and tell me how awful of a friend I am. How undeserving of her affections I’d be if she chose me.

I’m about to leave for the big proposal dinner Jessie disguised as a get together for his birthday. A few other co-workers and their wives will be there along with Shantel and Nora. I doubt Tilly will catch onto what’s happening beforehand. She hates huge crowds or attention on her, so she’ll probably try to hide in the background. Wish me luck.

-Arch

Chapter twenty-seven

Archer

Three Years Ago- Proposal

Dear Seb,

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