I move to the drawers and pull out the envelope before chucking it to Archie. “Hayleigh received this at her old house; it was why she didn’t want to stay there anymore.”
He turns it over in his hands, eyes widening as he takes in the name of the psychiatric facility on the back. “Oh my god! This is fromhim!” I nod. “What does it say?”
I shrug. “Not a clue, she hasn’t opened it yet, and she doesn’t want to, but it is on her list.”
Archie gets that look in his eyes. “Or…”
I’m shaking my head immediately. “Absolutelynot,Arch. Haven’t you learned your lesson from the last time you cooked up one of your ideas? We had to do group yoga as a punishment. Now, what do you think Hayleigh would dish up for us?”
He shudders. “Yeah, she can be pretty scary. Okay, we won’t hold the envelope over a steaming hot kettle until the glue melts and gently pry it open without creases to read what’s inside before gently placing it back in the envelope.” He shrugs and looks away.
It takes exactly three seconds for me to grab the letter, Archie darts up, and we both try to squeeze through the door frame at the same time before Archie steps back and opens his armout for me to go first. Then we’re sprinting to the kitchen and flicking the kettle to life.
I pace the kitchen. “I mean, this is a bad idea, isn’t it? We shouldn’t do this.”
Archie leans on the counter, one hand under his chin, next to the kettle, and he rolls his eyes. “I mean, drama king much. We’re just going to take a sneaky peek and then put it back. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “You shouldneversay that. If this were a horror movie, you can guarantee that saying that would release the angry spirit from the letter.”
“What are you two talking about?” We both whirl around to find Hayleigh standing behind us, arms crossed, and her brow raised.
I say. “Nothing.” At the same time, Archie bursts out with the word. “Cakes.”
I look at Archie. “What the fuck?”
Hayleigh’s eyes zero in on the envelope in Archie’s hand. “Please. Please tell me you weren’t talking aboutmyletter?” The look in her eyes cuts right through me.
I can’t lie to her, so I hang my head. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do-”
She cuts me off. “No, Nate. It wasn’t a stupid thing to do; it was disloyal.”
Archie flicks off the kettle as Hayleigh turns and leaves. I don’t follow her because she’s right. I get a sinking feeling in my heart as my legs turn to jelly because she’s right, it was disloyal, and I’ve majorly fucked up.
**********
Shortly after Hayleigh left, I came to my workshop to clear my head. I say workshop, but really it’s just an old, converted garage behind our house. Working with wood has always done that. I love bringing things to life and restoring old things intosomething new, and right now, my project is all Hayleigh. I feel shit about what I did earlier, and I never should’ve listened to Archie. It was stupid and selfish, no matter how much I want to dress it up as me wanting to help.
When we were in Vegas, there was this one night when she told me a story about curling up to read fairy tales with her grandad. They would sit in his wooden rocking chair, and Hayleigh mentioned that when she had her own place again, she’d want a rocking chair.
So now, I’m building her a rocking chair.
I throw myself into my work, and before I realise it, it’s been five hours, my back aches, but it’s nothing compared to how shit I feel for going along with the stupid idea of opening that letter.
A knock at the door to my workshop grabs my attention. I don’t bother answering, returning my attention to the chair.
“I’m closed. Go away.”
The knocking continues.
Fucking idiots. I storm to the door, yanking it open, and my mouth drops open.
“I would have thought that after earlier, you would be a bit nicer to me.” Hayleigh sasses, her hands on her hips. I step aside, and she shoves past me.
I notice a little too late as she darts over to where the rocking chair is. “That’s not finished yet.”
She whirls around, a smile blooming on her beautiful face. “It’s beautiful. Who’s the lucky customer?”
I don’t want her to think this is a copout, but I always want to see that smile on her face again. “You.”
