Page 76 of Billionaire Ever After

Chapter Twenty-Five

Archer

We’re driving home from the grand opening. I can’t read Talia. I decided to wait and talk to her about everything after we left. She was deep in conversation with Vivian and Cris when Dad and I finished with the tour. Something told me the timing wasn’t right.

I park by the curb and we pause between townhouses. Indecision is a habit we have cultivated. Does she come to me? Do I go to her?

“I have bourbon,” she tells me. “If you want a glass.”

Bourbon. It’s a bit of a symbol for us. I nearly proposed to her at that fundraiser when I asked what she had in her glass. Then, I was joking. Now, I have no idea what I’d say if she flipped that script on me. After she avoided me for the rest of the night in her namesake spa, I doubt a proposal is forthcoming. Probably the opposite. I’m fairly certain she’ll take me inside and explain why she’s leaving. I’m too fucking scared to hope for anything else.

“I’ll take you up on a bourbon.” I follow her inside, slipping off my suit jacket and draping it over a chair in the living room.

“No bourbon for you?” I joke when she pulls a wine glass from the cabinet alongside a short, square glass for me.

“Hello? Have we met?”

I should know her preferences. I thought I did, but she changed on me. She went from a woman who fantasized about having me to someone who had me and lost interest. Do I sound as pathetic to you as I do in my own head?

“Huge success tonight,” I say to fill the space in the room. “Not a bad first gig for a brand-new LLC.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” She pours a few inches of bourbon into the glass and pours herself a splash of wine next. “To us.”

“To us.” We tap glasses and then drink. I lock eyes with her.

She’s silent for a long beat. Too long. I can’t take it anymore.

“You don’t like the name of the spa.”

“I like it,” she says, her tone high and nervous. “Why did you do it?”

“For you.” I shrug. Because duh. “Your stamp is in every room of that spa. I can’t look anywhere without seeing you there.” Or here. Or in my own townhouse. When she leaves, I’m going to be a mess. I can feel it.

“You hoped the sign would change my mind about leaving,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry, Archer. It didn’t change anything.”

“Why not?” I growl. Feeling pissed-off is better than feeling sad and pathetic. “You expect me to believe you’re excited to work for Brandon Lambert? You expect me to believe you don’t recognize what we have? This isn’t normal, Talia. What we have isn’t something you find every day.”

“Archer, stop.” She’s begging, her hands in prayer pose in front of her. I don’t care. I’ve come this far, and I’m not turning back now.

“I love you, Talia, and I can’t figure out why that’s so goddamned hard for you to accept.” I’m frowning at her. Her mouth is hanging open like she’s mortified. I can’t think of a single other word to say.

Fuck. I’m so bad at this.

“It’s impossible for me to accept,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“My mother.” Like those two words took the strength from her legs, she collapses on a barstool. I remain standing, hands flat on the counter. I’m too agitated to sit. “Remember when I told you I was engaged?”

I nod grimly, not liking where this is going already.

“He proposed to me after graduation. On a football field at our high school, surrounded by our friends. We sneaked in. We were still wearing our caps and gowns. He arranged to have the lights turned on. The field was lit up like game night.” She smiles, but there’s no joy in it. Only regret. “I was supposed to go home after the graduation ceremony. Mama was too sick to attend, so Lis and Papa baked a cake.” A tear slips from her eye, and my heart shatters. “I chose Estevan over her. I told myself I deserved a night with my friends, with my boyfriend. My fiancé. I chose him over my family, Archer. To devastating consequences. I never told her goodbye. The last words I said to her were ‘I know’ when she reminded me to take photos for her.”

“There’s no way you could have known,” I say, my heart breaking for her.

“Yes, but I should have been there. I was supposed to be there. I allowed myself to be distracted. You’re a distraction, Archer. I found out before I came here that Papa was on medication for his heart—I don’t know how long he has. Maybe years, maybe minutes. Lis needs me even though she won’t admit it. I need to be there for her, to listen to her problems with Julio or Webber or whoever she’s dating. I started a business, and I’m terrified I’ll fail if I don’t hustle my ass off to keep it afloat. I can’t stay here. My entire life is in Miami.”

I stopped hearing anything she said after she told me I was a distraction. I’m too angry to put together a halfway decent sentiment to tell her how sorry I am she lost her mom and how I don’t want her to worry about anyone. About how I’ll move them all up to Ohio and put them in mansions with bubble-wrapped walls to ensure their safety so she never has to feel that way again. Instead, my hurt feelings and my unreturned pronouncement make me say something totally different.

---