Realizations keep plowing into me. Maybe when Troy told me to lay low, he had some instinct that told him this was exactly what I needed to be able to move forward with my life.
Because I’ve been stuck in the same place since Tatum chose my brother, and I was stuck for a lot of years before that, too. And suddenly, out of nowhere, I’m starting to feel free.
CHAPTER 26: Millie Monroe
Bouncing Together Playfully
I’m a little surprised when Archer leans into me.
I rest my hand on his thigh, and he turns and looks at me.
Either he’s laying it on thick in front of his ex or something’s different.
Maybe it was the toast over margaritas. Maybe I went too far.
I mean, I hate her, obviously. For Archer. I’m on his side here. But she seems like a sweet, fun kind of girl who sort of got stuck in a relationship with one brother when she might’ve been meant to be with the other.
He said it himself. She kept running to Ford when she and Archer broke up. Doesn’t that say something? He was her safe haven when she needed someone to lean on. And now she gets to be with him always. Maybe he always felt like home to her when she needed to run away from her actual home.
I also get why Archer wouldn’t understand that. I can’t imagine this is easy for him, but when I glance over at him, I see that he’s much more relaxed than he was last night. Maybe it was the yoga, but I’m inclined to believe it was the fact that he got some of what he was holding inside off his chest when he confided in me last night.
And that means something to me. Something big…or at leastbigin terms of this month. Big in terms of helping him get over her and move on with his life.
But at the end of this, he’ll return home and get back into the swing of things before he’s back on the field nearly every night of the week. And honestly, our two lifestyles would never work outside of here anyway. I could never be with someone who’s so adamantly against my dreams.
But damn, he’s good in bed, so I’m going to live it up while I can.
We head our separate ways after breakfast, and I change into my swimsuit and freshen up a bit to hop on another live at the pool. Archer said he’d meet me down there in an hour or so, so I need to get down there ahead of him so I don’t catch him on my live.
I find a chair with an empty one beside it, reserve the one next to me with a towel, set up my travel stand so I can clip my phone to it, and hop on Instagram to go live.
I do my thing, chatting about sunrise yoga and the best breakfast I’ve had at the resort so far. I talk about how my ankle is doing much better, and I thank everyone for the well wishes.
I sign off with my signature outro line, and I drop the fake smile the second I’m done with the live. Yeah, I thanked everyone who dropped into my DMs with aget wellwish, but the truth is that I didn’t get any. Not a single one. I’m not looking for sympathy here. I don’t really care about that. But Iamlooking for engagement, and you’dthink an injury on vacation would stir upsomesort of sympathy from at leastoneof my followers.
But the truth is that my engagement has taken a bit of a dive. It could be the resort. I’m here for an entire month, and I’m not really posting other content. Maybe I need to brainstorm some ideas for what to post.
You know, like a famous baseball player or something.
I know he’s already been clear that the mere thought of including him on camera is off-limits, but fuck, I could really use his help.
I see a few of the ladies around the pool perk up when he walks in with those shimmering abs. Sunglasses cover his eyes, yet I feel them on me anyway as he walks across the pool deck toward me. He pays no attention to the women ogling him. Maybe he’s used to it, or maybe he really is that clueless. Part of me thinks it may be the latter.
He takes the chair beside mine, sliding onto it and leaning back as if he owns it, as if he was always meant to take that chair right next to me.
I lean back, too, and I turn to look at him. He’s still got his sunglasses on, face toward the sun.
“This is the life,” I murmur.
He grunts some affirmative response.
“Do the sunshine and the gorgeous woman beside you sort of ease the burden of not being home?” I ask. I’m not sure why I ask it. We’re finally getting along, and it’s probably stupid of me to bring up his suspension.
He sits up, and he pulls his sunglasses off. He tilts his head as he studies me, and then his eyes run along my body, pausing on my tits before they flick back up to mine. He blows out a breath. “If I can’t play, this isn’t a bad alternative.”
I chuckle. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
