Page 24 of More Than an Ex-Girlfriend

Frying chicken and having a difficult conversation do not go well together.

I lift the overdone chicken out of the oil, open the kitchen window, then wave a dish towel around, trying to clear the air. But my efforts don’t make much of a difference.

Archer will be out of the shower any minute, so I put the next batch of chicken in and set a timer. I’ll definitely be checking my phone before answering from now on. I’m sad that Mom doesn’t care to know how I am, but at the same time, I’m relieved to be away from her.

I will no longer let anyone guilt me into doing things I’d rather not do. Granted, guilt was a big part of the reason I baked Archer all those cookies, but hope was mingled in there too.

I’m clinging to that same hope—that I can get to his heart through his stomach— as I pull chicken out of the pan. When Archer knocks, smoke still hangs in the air. So much for impressing him tonight.

After a deep breath and then coughing, I open the adjoining door. “Hey. Mind if we eat at your place? Everything is ready.”

He leans in and looks toward the kitchen. “Sure. What do you want me to carry?”

I love that he doesn’t ask about the smoke. “I have the corn and chicken on a platter. You can get that. And I’ll grab the mashed potatoes and brown gravy.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t had that in ages.”

“I wanted you to see how I’ve learned to cook, so I made the tenders myself. They aren’t frozen from a bag. But I ended up leaving the first batch in a little too long. That’s why there’s smoke.” I head toward the kitchen.

He follows, then taps my arm. “Is the smoke why your eyes are red?”

I turn to face him, and he studies me with a gaze that makes me feel like he can see into my soul.

“Only part of the reason. But let’s start dinner before everything gets cold.”

* * *

Archer dragsa chicken strip through his mashed potatoes, then pours extra gravy over all of it. “This is the best meal I’ve had in ages, and don’t you dare repeat that to anyone. Ava and Goldie are amazing cooks. But this is still my favorite.” His gaze meets mine and holds me hostage for several heartbeats. “Thank you.”

“I’ve missed you.”

The warmth in his eyes is replaced by hurt. “How long have you lived here in Stadtburg?”

My plan to ease into that conversation just imploded. “A year, give or take.”

“And not once did you look me up.” He stares down at his plate as he drags another chicken strip through the potatoes.

All my reasons for delaying our meeting seem silly and dumb. “I was afraid you’d hate me. And I wanted to lose some weight.” My habit of honesty with Archer isn’t playing in my favor. Why did I even mention my weight?

I just pointed a neon arrow at my fat hips and jiggly curves.

“I already said I don’t hate you. I wish I knew why you ended things, but I won’t force you to tell me.” He shoves his empty plate to the side. “You were there for me when my parents died, and I can’t forget that. So I’m working on getting over my hurt. We’re neighbors and friends. I kill your roaches and move your furniture, and you treat me to my favorite things.”

He’s nothing like the scared kid I befriended so many years ago. But he’s also so much the same.

He rubs the back of his neck, signaling that he’s uncomfortable or about to say something he thinks will make the conversation awkward. “Why were your eyes red?”

“My mom called.”

His eyes narrow. “Is she... the same?”

I shrug. “It’s the first time I’ve spoken to her in a long while. She threw me out. That’s why I moved to Stadtburg. But she called because she needs help with the rent and wants me to move back. At least that’s what I gathered from her slurred words.”

“But you aren’t, right? Moving, I mean.” Concern swirls in his brown eyes. “You’re staying here.” The last part is a statement not a question.

“I’m not leaving.” Now that I’ve reconnected with Archer, I can’t imagine anything would make me move away from him.

“Does she know where you are?” He falls right back into the protective role he played for so many years, and that stirs up my regret.

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