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And now he probably thinks he's too old to share it with anyone.
Why is any of this my concern? That question haunts me as we walk through the serene cemetery, where many families of Dallas' old money are buried. He had sex with me days ago and hasn't tried to do it again. He's my boss—we have no other link.
Yet, as we reach his mother’s gravestone—located in a peaceful area near large oak trees with intricate sculptures—I realize I don't need to make sense of inviting myself along. I simply need to be present for him.
Archer puts the flowers on her grave and looks at it in silence.
I let him take a moment to do whatever he needs to do before saying, "Tell me about your mom."
"She was good-hearted. Believed in people's bullshit too much. My father's especially."
I sit next to him. "What happened to him?"
"He left us when I was three. Fatherhood wasn't his thing. When he heard my mom had been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, he came back and did a whole theater act. She fell for it, and two years later, when she died, he left with most of her money."
I touch his shoulder and feel the tension in his muscles under his suit. "Shitty dad. I'm sorry."
"I went to live with my grandmother."
"I'm glad she took you in. “Was she good to you?”
"She was heartbroken when she took me in. She blamed my mom for being so naïve. As far as being good to me, she did the best she could. Came from a different generation, so she always raised me to do better—at sports, with grades, that type of thing. A big fan of timers,” he says, and a smile slips through his lips.
"I see how blaming was easier for her. But from what I understand, your mom was also in a delicate state. Maybe she took your father back because she wanted you to have another parent in case something happened to her."
"I don't know." He looks ahead. "When I was a teen, what I wanted the most was to change my reality, to escape, to time travel, and to bring my mother back."
"Is that why you entered the traveling business? Because it helps people escape?"
"You're insightful. Is this another free-of-charge therapy session?"
"I'm on the clock, so it's not free of charge."
His handsome features relax. "You're annoying. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Yes. You point out my mistakes often."
He dips his head, and I freeze. Anticipation builds in my core, and heat coils in the pit of my stomach. Is he going to kiss me? I inhale the wonderful scent of his skin, complete with a dash of woodsy notes and a blend of spices I can't pinpoint. I close my eyes and lean closer, and when he brushes his lips on my cheek, my heart rate skyrockets.
He drags his mouth to the corner of my lips, and I part them, welcoming him, but he disengages and whispers, "Thank you, Hazel." Then, he kisses the top of my head.
Later in the day, I'm still processing that visit as I stare blankly at my computer screen.
Five o'clock.
He's done with his meeting.
I should leave soon. Thankfully, my dad is doing fine and up to his old tricks. I told him I'd get home later today because I needed to shop for a dress for Sarah's birthday party.
I tried to give Emma her dress back, but she insisted I keep it. I may have to buy her something nice in gratitude. That dress helped me in more ways than one—but I still need a different one for the next event.
"How's your dad?" Archer asks, coming by my desk. "I forgot to ask."
I grab my purse and put my cell phone, the journal, and a couple more items in it. "He's good. Stubborn, but he knows sooner or later I'll find out if he rebels against the doctor's orders."
He tilts his head to the side, eyes on me. "Smart."
A lump forms in my throat, and I stare back at him. Heat radiates from my chest, and my breath catches in my throat. "Yeah."
