“That went okay, I think,” Archie says as we walk back to the tube station.
“It went well.”
"They were a bit overprotective of me."
“They’re your parents. It’s their job.”
Archie nods thoughtfully. “Doyouwant kids?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God for that. I thought I’d screwed up back there.”
I squeeze his hand. “Not at all.”
“And marriage? Is that something you want?”
“It’s not something I need,” I say. “But I’m open to it if it’s important to you.”
He shakes his head. "No. I'm not sure marriage is right for the relationship we have. That doesn't mean I don't want to show you how committed I am, Sir. Just that the thought of getting married doesn't excite me."
We get on a train and manage to find a pair of seats next to each other, even though it’s busy.
“You’re committed to me?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir.”
I smile and stroke his face. “Then when we’re both ready, we’ll find a way to show that to each other in a way that works for us.” I encourage him to lean in close so I can kiss him. “I love you, Archieosaurs,” I whisper. “And I want a long and happy future with you.”
He kisses me again before saying, “Me too, Sir.”
* * *
We’ve only been back at the water tower for an hour when a call comes through to the office number. When I first moved here, I decided I needed both a personal line—although my friends and family use my mobile more often—and a business one so I could keep the two parts of my life separate.
Archie answers it. I'm too engrossed in my words to care who's calling. I'm nearing the end of the first draft of what I hope will be my penultimate Orion King novel. Thanks to Archie, I have enjoyed writing this book at least a little bit.
“Sir?” Archie asks.
“What?”
“Your editor is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”
I look over my shoulder. “Can’t you give him an update?”
I send my daily word count to Archie at the end of every day, along with a brief overview of how much I think I’ve got left to write. It’s not an exact science. I don’t plan out each chapter or scene. I just have a feel for where I want the story to end up and how I want it to get there. I’m pretty sure Archie has been sending updates to Kevin at least weekly—a proactive task that’s kept my editor off my back since he granted me an extension.
“He’s insisting on talking to you,” Archie says apologetically. He brings the phone over to me.
Once I've taken it from him, I expect him to get back to his desk, but instead, he stands behind me and kneads my shoulders with his hands.
“Kevin,” I say in a short tone. “What?”
"Hamish!" Kevin's voice is warm but fake like he's buttering me up for something.
“What?” I ask again.
“Archie tells me you’re nearly finished with your latest book.”
