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The simple act of wondering scares me. I take another sip of my scotch and pray to God that this nonsense will go away.
21
Hazel
"Your home is something else," I say to Sarah.
She gave me the tour and introduced me to other guests. I thought I'd feel out of place with influential businesswomen or the wives or dates of important men. But they've all been lovely, which makes me believe Sarah is intent about her parties. She hasn't invited people simply to mingle; these guests all mean something to her.
I fall under the new friend category. I'll gladly take it.
I need to be more open to friends—I should probably be more open to Emma, too, and tell her about Archer and me. She's bound to find out somehow. How many more excuses can I make not to have lunch with her so I can make out with my boss in his office instead?
"You need to come over sometime on a weekend so we can play tennis or go to the pool," Sarah says.
"Sounds good."
I suck at tennis, but she doesn't need to know that yet.
We join a larger group. A live band plays some jazzy songs, and several guests dance in the outdoor area.
I scan the space until I find Archer. The second my gaze finds his, warm energy flows through me. I walk up to him, and he excuses himself and shortens the gap between us.
"Good news," he says. "They're interested. We’re sending the proposal tomorrow, and they’ll show it to their lawyers."
"That's wonderful. Though maybe I should be worried you'll be mingling with all those sugar babies,” I say, only half-jokingly.
He kisses my cheek and locks his arms around me, bringing me close. We're not dancing, but we're moving to the song. "You don't have to worry. You may be dealing with them more than me… I was going to ask if you wanted to help manage that project once it comes to fruition."
I chew my lower lip. I’ve been so busy with family stuff in the past few years that my career took a step back. But playing a key role in a massive collaboration would certainly be great for my resume and bank account. "Really?"
"Yes. It's only fair. You helped me with this deal and have a good sense of dealing with people."
I touch his forearm. "Does that mean you'll need a new assistant?"
"In the future, yes. But you'll pick one for me."
"I'll ensure it's a man or an extremely unattractive older woman,” I say playfully, but a whisper of doubt niggles at my mind.
Archer never made a pass at me before that party when he saw me in a different light. He was always respectful when it came to our professional positions. But that spark of insecurity stabs at me. He’s so freaking handsome and successful. What if?—
"Do I fare that low on the trust scale?” He encircles me in his arms, yanking me from my self-deprecating musings.
"Well, you have a lot going for you when you're not obnoxious and grumpy. And me…" You can find someone else like me, I say inwardly. "I have my dad. It's a bit of a baggage.” I love my dad, but now that Archer is my boyfriend, what if he tires of having Rick Dillon around? I live with him. Dad isn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t put him in a retirement home, even if I had the money. Doesn’t seem fair.
I wait for his reaction, but he doesn’t blink. Maybe he didn’t think through what I just said.
"I call it an adorable duffle bag. I like your dad,” he says.
I frown and will my overthinking away. "Really?"
He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, and I lean into his touch. "Yes. He's a good man."
"You know… you're a good man, too."
He outlines my jaw, and his eyes collide with mine. Rings of silver outline his aqueous irises. "I'd like to be the man you see."
We share a moment, and I see the beauty in his face, the vulnerability in his eyes, and I can’t stand it. The man is magnificent. I touch his chin. "You are the way I see you,” I say, then pull him for a kiss.
