Page 98 of Wild Flower

“Yeah, I’m going to remember this next time you suggest drinking away your troubles.” She moves the tequila bottle far from my reach. “Just text him, Becca. Let him know you’re thinking about him.”

“While I’m drunk?”

“Okay, maybe contacting him in the morning would be a better idea.” Only, I’m fumbling with my phone and pulling up Archer’s text thread.

Becca:Hiiiii. I fjem,….

“What are you doing?” Miranda squeaks, muscling the phone out of my hand. I try to grab it back, but she’s a ninja and I’m Eeyore’s drunk cousin. “This text doesn’t even make sense.”

But then we both stop, because those three dots show up that mean Archer’s writing something.

“Oh crap,” I say. “Text him that I’m drunk, so he doesn’t think something is wrong with me.”

“Too late.” Miranda turns the phone my way.

Archer:Becca? Are you okay?

“Shit,” I reach for the phone.

Becca:eefheik,,.

Miranda muscles my device away again. “The tequila has turned you into spaghetti fingers. I’ll do the texting.” Miranda starts typing and dictates to me what she’s saying.

Becca:This is Miranda. Becca has had a few drinks. I’ll be typing for her.

Archer:Are you two safe?

Becca:We’re at my place. We’re fine.It’s been a long week.

“Give me the phone,” I say.

“No way, butterfingers.” She bats my fingers away. “Now what do you want to tell him?”

“Click on his number and hit dial.”

Miranda’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to call him in this inebriated, emotional state? I advise against it.”

“And this texting game of telephone is better?”

“I’ll tell him you’ll call him in the morning.”

“I need to hear his voice. Just give me the phone and I’ll—”

“Okay, handsy!” Miranda pushes me off. “Hold on.”

Becca:Becca wants to call you, but I’m warning you, she’s drunk.

“What did you just write?”

“Nothing, I’m pulling up his number.”

Becca:Answer at your own risk.

Miranda hands me the phone, and I have just enough time to see what she wrote before the loud ringing starts and I move the receiver up to my mouth. “Thank you very much, your royal highness of cock-topia!” I sass at Miranda.

“Cock-what?” Archer’s voice comes through the receiver, and my stomach drops. It feels like a glass of water has been thrown in my face, and hearing his voice makes all the emotions surge to the surface again. I choke on my words, desperately wanting to ask him if he actually has cancer or not, but knowing that’s not what I should open with. “Becca? Are you there?”

“Um, uh …” I stutter. “Hi.”

---