Or not. Your call.
I stared at that last line.
Choice.
Always choice with him.
Me:
Pick me up?
The reply came immediately.
Archie:
Always.
I exhaled slowly, tucking my phone away just as my break timer buzzed.
Back inside, the noise swallowed me again. The shake machine hummed. Someone laughed. A cup clinked against a saucer.
Tomorrow loomed.
But tonight—I still had hours of normal left.
And somehow, that made all the difference.
Archie pickedme up after my shift like he said he would.
The ride back was quiet in a way that was comfortable instead of strained. The streetlights ticked by in a slow, steady rhythm. Neither of us talked about tomorrow. We didn’t need to. It sat between us anyway—unavoidable, heavy, waiting.
When we pulled into the garage, Archie shut off the engine and slid out even as the outer door closed. He circled the Ferrari and was at my door before I’d finished processing we were home. When he opened the door for me, I climbed out and smiled.
“Thank you,” I said softly. For the ride. For the steadiness. For not trying to manage me.
He turned toward me. “Always.”
The word settled deep.
I leaned in first this time.
The kiss was unhurried but intense, like neither of us was pretending this was accidental anymore. His hand came to my waist, solid and grounding, and I curled my fingers into the front of his shirt, holding on instead of holding back.
Then—
The garage door rattled open.
Light spilled in.
“What the hell is this?”
Edward’s voice was sharp. Not startled. Not confused.
Angry.
We broke apart, but Archie didn’t step away.
He stepped forward.
