Page 29 of The Archer and his Rosebud

I’m too damn shocked and curious to speak before the front door closes and I’m alone again.

Archer: Tempting how?

Willa: Shouldn’t you be working?

Archer: I am working. I’m areallygood multi-tasker.

Willa: Archer!

Archer: What? I am. I’m texting, coding, and eating a sandwich all at once. It’s impressive. You should be here to witness greatness.

Willa: Well, I was trying to read my syllabus for Visual Communications while feeding Clem and knocked my laptop onto the floor. Clearly, I can’t multitask.

Archer: That’s okay. I can help you. ;) See you at 5:30?

Willa doesn’t reply, and I spend the afternoon questioning my urge to flirt with her. There are more reasons to keep our distance than I can name, a huge one being the need to protect her from hurt. She’s more fragile than she knows at this point in her life. Her focus should be on her well-being and Clementine. She doesn’t need a man ten years older playing the hero and lusting after her.

My fear dissipates when I open the door a little after 5:00 and she shoves Clem’s bouncy seat into my stomach. “You, Archer Thomas, are a shameless flirt.”

I step back, allowing her in. “Hey, you started it first.”

“Not true.”

“I mentioned enslaving you, and you said that was tempting. I highly doubt you were excited at the prospect of doing my laundry or scrubbing my shower.”

“Maybe I like cleaning. Did you think of that? Or have you heard of sarcasm? I’m a pro at sarcasm.”

Unable to stop myself, I tap her nose. “Or maybe you like teasing a single man who hasn’t dated in five years.”

Red colors her cheeks.

I move to the kitchen and pull out the ingredients for chicken Alfredo. “I’m not mad, Rosebud. I liked that side of you. You seem lighter today. Happier.”Which is likely why your daughter is happier, too.“Ready to cook?”

Dinner Monday turnsinto dinner and a TV show Tuesday, then dinner and studying Wednesday. We cook as a team, keeping Clem happy when she feels neglected, then we settle onto my couch, where Willa pulls up her assignments and I watch a baseball game on mute and play with Clementine on the floor. The company is nice.

Willa adjusts her position on the couch. “I feel like I’m using you for childcare.”

“Or maybe I’m using you for a baby fix.” I smile when Clem’s little head drops to the floor with an angry grunt. She’s not a fan of tummy time, but I’m determined to strengthen her little muscles. “I missed a lot of time with Nolan and Eli. I think every one of their firsts happened when I wasn’t there to witness it.”

Tilting her head, Willa’s eyes scrunch, and my mouth twitches in a sad half-smile. When I swivel back to Clem, Willa focuses on her laptop.

“Have you had any issues with your prescription? Any side effects?” From what she told me about yesterday’s appointment, her doctor was concerned that Willa was dealing with anxiety and hormonal depression. She wasn’t worried for Willa or Clementine’s safety and seemed confident they would bond on their own time. The antidepressant should help keep her in check.

“It’s barely been twenty-four hours. I don’t think side effects kick in that fast. The medication hasn’t had enough time to enter my system. It’ll probably be a few days before I can tell a difference.” Shutting her laptop, Willa stretches. “I need a drink. Can I grab you anything?”

“I’m good.”

A moment later, Willa hums, and I arch my back, stretching up to see over the back of my couch. “Are you eating another brownie?”

She spins at the counter with a hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jaw face. “I really missed dairy, and this is only my third. So, hush.”

“What are you going to do while I’m gone this weekend?”

“Starve?”

Flipping Clem to her back, I take her little feet and cycle her legs like she’s riding a bike. “You could come camping with us.”

“Okay, funny guy. Going tent camping over Labor Day weekend isn’t all that appealing to begin with. Throw in a two-month-old and, yeah, no. I’d rather spend another weekend with the porcelain gods.”

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