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He grunted and listened like the solid friend he is and promptly insisted I helicopter him down to visit.
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
I shake my head. “I thought I could make it work. I wanted to. Desperately.” I feel a catch in my throat and hide it by swallowing another mouthful of scotch, relishing the burn in my throat.
“You really love her?” He gives me a wary side-eye.
I nod. “But I’m not built for love, apparently. I’m a workhorse, and you can’t teach this old pony new tricks.”
“Aw, hell. Is this where I have to convince you to be with my goddamn sister?”
“No.” I drain the last of my drink and pad over to the kitchen for the bottle. When I return, Archer is on the couch where I just was. I stand over him, waiting for him to move his dumb ass.
“Do you mind?”
“Actually, I do. Sit in the chair.” He points at the stiff-backed chair I hate. It’s rigid and uncomfortable and doesn’t allow me to slump like I want to. But I sit and pour myself another drink.
“Why?”
“Because it’s as uncomfortable as shit, and that way, I know you’ll pay attention.” Archer sips his scotch and grabs a wavy chip. He crunches on it and talks as he chews. “I love my family more than anything, and I’d guard PJ with my life. But I don’t want to guard her against love. Does she feel the way you do?”
I nod. “I think so. At least before I shot my mouth off.”
He grimaces. “Yeah, that was a bonehead move, but let’s assume you can get past that. Why do you think you’re not built for love?”
My eyes go wide because it’s that obvious. “Clearly, you see my track record. I sabotage it because work is everything to me. I can’t let up or things fall apart.”
“Do they?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you spent two weeks at the winery, and the place did just fine without you. So do “things” fall apart, or is it just you?”
It’s the question I’ve mulled since I first laid eyes on PJ Corbett, asking myself if I could have everything I want and eventually talking myself out of it.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?”
I want to throw my glass at his head for his rhetorical questions, except that he’s probably right. “I guess…it’s hard forme to accept that they don’t need me as much as I thought. And also…it’s hard to accept that I could be this happy.”
“With my sister.” He confirms what I’m still hesitant to believe.
“Yeah.”
“Then I think your choice is clear. Accept it. Ease your grip on the work treadmill and trust that things won’t fall apart. You can look at the stars all day long, but Earth is where it’s at. Get the girl, for fuck’s sake.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. The problem is in my head—and in my big mouth that can’t stop saying the wrong thing. There’s got to be a way to fix things, but that’s not Archer’s job. He’s already done the heavy lifting.
He stands up and dramatically gestures to the vacant couch, and I lug my sorry ass over there. But I don’t slump. I move to the corner and put the pillow on my lap. It’s a big couch, so there’s room for Archer on the other end.
“You’re a good friend, Arch.”
“The best.” He could be the same guy standing at that salad bar. Still cocky, still a loveable asshole.
“Now tell me what’s up at the winery. How can I help?”
He lets out a long sigh. “You can’t.”
