He lifted his bourbon toward me.“Well, cheers.”
I raised my mug and clinked it against his glass.“I thought for sure you’d just drink straight from the bottle.”
“In the days of yore, I would’ve.”He paused and took a sip of the liquor.“Now that I’m a dad, that seems irresponsible.Jesus, I’m adad.Life really does change on the flip of a dime, doesn’t it?”
“It really does,” I agreed.“If you’d asked me a few months ago, there’s no way I could’ve predicted I’d wind up being a nanny in Huckleberry Hill.”
“I’ve got a fully formed kid upstairs I knew nothing about.”He shook his head and took another sip.
I bent over my tea mug and breathed in the steam.
“Were you in New York?Before coming here?”
“No.I was in Telluride with the family I used to nanny for.Family ski trip,” I explained.“When Salem called about Hadley ...I was only a few hours away, thankfully.Not across the country.I slept in the airport and grabbed the first flight available.”
He peered at me.“You came because Hadley was in the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Without hesitation.”
“Of course.She’s one of my best friends.I’d drop everything for my best friends.”
He nodded, his expression pensive.“I’m surprised we haven’t met before now.”
“I was in town for Salem and Hadley’s baby shower.Not really your scene.”
“Nope,” he agreed.“So, your boss was a creeper?”
“Yes.”
He tapped his finger on the rim of his glass.“And that’s why you quit?”
“Yeah.He hit on me,” I stated with clinical recounting.“Obviously and uncomfortably.His wife walked in as he was doing it.”
“Shit.That’s fucking awful.”
“It’s fine, Archer.Over and done with.I quit and now I’m here.”
“Not over.Not done with.”He shook his head.“He shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“He did me a favor.And I don’t regret it.I got the dog as my severance package.I got a new job.I’m happier here.”
Archer took a sip of his bourbon.“Okay.”
“Are you usually up in the middle of the night?”I asked, desperately wanting the attention off me.
“Rarely, actually.But I read through everything Nancy left me.The will.Lenni’s birth certificate.Lenora James Murphy.Five pounds, six ounces.She was a preemie.Eighteen inches long.”He swallowed, his eyes dimming.“You know how small that is?”
“No.”
He let go of his glass and held out his arm toward me and flipped it over.He had a monster of a scar embedded in his skin; not even the colorful ink could conceal it all the way.“The length of my forearm.She would’ve fit right here.”
I looked at the dog curled against his chest.
She would’ve fit there, too.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to be there,” I murmured.“I’m really sorry, Archer.”
