Page 82 of You Cake My Breath Away

If it was a secret he wouldn’t have left it out in the open in a place he knew you’d see it.

My conscience battles itself as my feet move closer to the bed. I’m aware I’m about to cross a line, to delve into the barred off crevasses of Archer’s mind, and that I may not like what I find, but the tugging in my chest feels urgent.

Listening for any movement on the stairs, I sit on the edge of the bed and consider my options. I can leave and pretend like I never saw the book, but the uneasiness that floods my system every time I see him writing inside it, every time he brushes off my curiosity about why it seems like an extension of him, makes me rethink.

Self-preservation wins out, and my hands shake as I lift the book and begin to read.

Air slowly seeps out of my lungs when I realize he’s writing letters to his brother, and a wave of embarrassment washes over me. I start to closethe book, to put it back where I found it and pretend like I didn’t cross a line, but my eyes snag on the familiar letters of my name and I’m sucked back into the bubble of curiosity.

Archer is guarded—a closed book I’m dying to read. Seeing my name on these pages makes me want to know what he’s writing about me—about us. Is he as happy as I am that we’ve started seeing each other? Worried we’re going to fail at our second chance? Insight into his mind is something I can’t pass up.

A knot of dread ties itself in my stomach, and tears burn at the backs of my eyes, pushing through wet eyelashes as I stifle the urge to crumble. Flipping through the pages, learning each new tidbit of information, is like giving my heart tiny paper cuts, bleeding me dry.

Within fifteen minutes, the world Archer carefully created around me shatters as I read about our interactions from his point of view, now shedding a different light on the biggest moments in my life.

I stare down at my empty finger and realize Jessie asked me to marry him with a ring he didn’t pick out, that my favorite piece of jewelry, the bracelet I wear daily, was chosen by a man who stood on the sidelines instead of getting onto the field and fighting to win my heart. Was my relationship with Jessie even real? Or was Archer constantly behind the scenes pulling the strings attached to my heart like a puppeteer.

Archer purposefully pushed me away, made it a point to put distance between us by snide comments and making me feel like our friendship in college meant nothing to him.

He was a coward.

Still is.

Clearing away the tears with the sleeve of Archer’s hoodie, I continue reading, allowing the facade of my entire relationship with Jessie to break into tiny shards. My throat constricts, and ropes of anguish wrap aroundmy heart while I read about the night of Jessie’s proposal then land on the day after his funeral.

The bakery isn’t even technically mine. It’s still—has always been—Archer’s.

My hands ache, skin burning with betrayal as I stare at my now bare finger and imagine the ring I took off before I walked into this house ready to give Archer my heart. It was supposed to signify a promise to love each other, to honor and to cherish, but nothing about the situation makes me feel as such.

Emotions war inside my head. A part of me is…touched he’s written about me all these years, but the feeling of betrayal is all encompassing.

A sharp gasp has me lifting my head, tear-stained eyes locking on Archer in the doorway. His mouth is pressed tight together, hands fisted at his sides like he’s upset. I almost laugh. Almost tell him he has no leg to stand on if he feels betrayed. He’s spent the last five years making me feel like I didn’t matter because he wasn’t brave enough to fight for me back then, because he let his own superstitions and self-deprecation make him think he wasn’t good enough for me.

“Tilly.” His voice breaks like the panic has finally set in and he’s realized I now know he’s a fraud.

“Why?” It’s all I can choke out around the pain wreaking havoc on my throat and chest. “How could you lie to me?”

He drags his hands down his face, shoulders lifting with a deep inhale. I close my eyes, ignoring the downturned corners of his lips, not caring if he’s hurting at this moment.

My heart plummets into my stomach when he crosses the threshold toward me.

“Look at me,” he urges. “Please.”

I shake my head, tears leaking down my cheeks as I keep my eyes firmly pressed together.

“Tilda.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Delicate but strong hands grasp my chin, and air from his heavy breathing coasts over my tear-stained cheeks. I can feel him crouch down, settling in the area in front of me.

“Please, look at me,” Archer begs.

I open my eyes wide and look up at the ceiling, trying to muster the courage to look at him. Cursing the emotion seeping out of me, I blink the tears away and focus on his green eyes. They’re red, glistening with unshed tears.

“Did he ever love me? Or was this some game to you guys?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

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