“What an ass,” I muttered to myself.
“All the toilet paper, Darcy?” Archer’s smirk had grown into a full-blown grin.
Wiping a hand over my face, I sighed. “He’d usedallof my conditioner! He didn’t even have long hair back then! He kept it buzzed! I didn’t think it’d get us kicked out of the campground.”
“You stole all of the toilet paper from the men’s room. What did you think was going to happen?”
I snickered because it was sort of funny now, but it definitely hadn’t been back then. My dad had been furious with me. “Ithoughthe’d have to wipe his ass with leaves, and I’d hoped he’d be dumb enough to use poison ivy. I was going to put it all back!”
He leaned down, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Brat.”
“I told you you need to stop calling me that.” I glared at him playfully.
“And I told you that I like what it does to your eyes.”
“What does it do to my eyes?” I challenged.
“The same thing kissing you does. You ignite.” His gaze dropped from mine, landing on my mouth.
“Speaking of, we never got to finish our conversation we started,” I hedged, realizing that standing in my parents’ dining room likely wasn’t the place to have this talk, but also not really caring.
“What do you want it to be?” Archer asked, picking up exactly where we’d left off when I asked him if he wanted the kiss to be a one-time thing or not. His eyes returned to mine, a more serious expression shaping his features.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Why was it so hard to tell him what I wanted? I’d had no problem the night at the bar, but now I was clamming up?
“Want me to answer the question?”
I nodded, mutely.
His voice was low as he spoke. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else in the thirty minutes since that kiss, and it’s taking everything in me not to back you up against this table and kiss you senseless.” His hand brushed against mine, the small contact sending chills through my body. “So, no, I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. But I don’t know what that means yet either. Is that okay?”
Nodding, I brushed my hand along the back of his before interlocking our pinkie fingers. It was an answer I could respect because it was exactly how I was feeling at the moment too. “Yes, that’s okay.”
Archer leaned closer to me. “So, when can I kiss you again?”
My response was on the tip of my tongue when Linnea bounced into the room. “We’re starting Monopoly in the living room in five.” She smiled, completely unaware of having interrupted something. “Better take the time to formulate your battle strategy, Archer. You’re going to need it.”
“Battle strategy?”
I sighed. “Yes. Battle strategy. And she’s not wrong. You’re going to need it.”
***
Christmas Day went exactly how it did every year. Whoever woke up first made the coffee, and then we waited to open presents until the last person came downstairs. Gathering around the tree, gifts would be opened one at a time so that we could all watch what the person got, and then we did breakfast, which was usually cinnamon buns and bacon. When we were little, we’d run off to play with our toys after, but now that we were all adults, it was more laid back. Everything about the day was the same, yet it felt different.
For one thing, it felt like I finally had something of value to bring into conversation, and now that my mom knew about the baby, it was all she could talk about. What did I need for the nursery? When were we doing a baby shower? Did I know how to change a diaper? The attention was a lot, but it was also kind of nice to have something my family could get excited for with me.
Then there was Archer. My family had been nothing but welcoming since they’d met him at Thanksgiving, but now they were laying it on thick. It was as if giving them a grandbaby was the last piece my parents needed to really embrace him—to see him as something more than just some guy, and they weren’t the only ones. Watching him with my family, having him here with me, had me forgetting that that part of our relationship wasn’treal, despite our mutual acknowledgement of our physical attraction to each other. Yes, he was the father of my baby, but what was he tome? I had said I didn’t want anything from him, but I wasn’t so sure that was true anymore, and that left us in a weird middle ground.
He’d made it clear he had nothing to offer me, but I didn’t believe that for a second, and I wished he didn’t either. He was a better man than he gave himself credit for because, while he had his moments—moments I was able to see a whole lot clearer now that I knew his past—he wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d made him out to be. A bad man wouldn’t force us to stop every two hours on our road trip because it’s recommended for pregnant people, though I think that’s a stupid “rule.” He also wouldn’t pick out a crap ton of healthy snacks, nor would he shop for baby things with me. What came out of Archer’s mouth might’ve been harsh at times, but his actions spoke volumes, and I think what neither of us were quite ready to admit was that our kiss in the truck was more than mere physical attraction. How much more, I wasn’t sure, but if our feelings were changing, and I was fairly certain mine already had, I needed to know why. In a handful of months, I’d give birth to this baby and, yes I’d be a mom, but I’d also go back to being just Darcy again. I’d no longer be the woman carrying his baby, and I needed to know if he wanted me forme. I needed to know if I was enough.
TWENTY THREE
ARCHER
Darcy:Attachment: 2 images
My pulse jumped and I glanced around the firehouse, ensuring no one was around to see whatever pictures Darcy was sending me, before opening the text message. Two different light green squares sat below my last text to her, the three dots indicating she was typing flowed beneath.
