Page 65 of Loving at 40

“I should have killed you.” Her voice drops as Archer invades her space, coming in closer than is publicly acceptable or even privately appropriate unless he plans to kiss her.

My eyes close. I need to get away from them.

She should have killed him? Is she the one who shot Archer? Who is she? And more importantly, why did she shoot him?

“You couldn’t do it. You love me.”

“Who is she?” While tipping her head at me, her question echoes my own. She’s still blocking me and Archer doesn’t shift his gaze from her. He doesn’t pay me an ounce of attention.

“She’s no one.”

What the fuck? Not frickity-frack. Just. What. The. Fuck?

Then it hits me. He told me only last night how he had to pretend sometimes. What was fake felt real. And I’ve misunderstood everything. We hadn’t been anything other than some sexy times in his bedroom. Undercover. Even this date has been all over the place. Nothing has been real with Archer McCaryn.

“Babe, let’s get out of here.” He reaches for her hand and tugs her forward. She stumbles and collides with his chest. He cups her jaw, and then he turns them to lead her out of the restaurant. Without an explanation. Without a glance back at me.

And the only thing I can fixate on is how he called her babe like he’s been calling me all along.

25

[Jenna]

I didn’t know where to go, and I didn’t know what to think. We’d driven here in Archer’s car, and I had to call an Uber, which is nearly impossible to find in a small, touristy town. I should have called Anna or one of the guys, but I was too stunned to be logical.

What the hell just happened?

Archer left with another woman, that’s what happened, and he left me after all his declarations of what-if and being home.

I was a damn fool.

This is why it took me so long to settle on a man. They didn’t want monogamous relationships or commitment. Fling, fling, fling worked best, but I wasn’t that twenty-year-old anymore, and I wasn’t without children. I had to be responsible, respectable, and I felt darn rejected.

As I slam the car door of the Uber that drops me at the base of the driveway, I wave off the driver and step out of my heels, carrying them in one hand. I should check on my girls, but I’m still not expected home for another few hours, and I don’t want to face the apartment yet. Instead, I stalk around the main house, cross the stone patio, and skip my way down the stairs to the beach. In the time that’s passed, the sun still hadn’t fully descended, and the sliver of yolk peeks above the watery horizon. I collapse into a chair on the beach, covering my face with both hands. I should cry. I want to cry, but I’m too angry for tears.

“What happened?” Concern fills Anna’s voice as she addresses me, and I release my face, falling back into the Adirondack chair. I’m too embarrassed to face her.

Shaking my head, I don’t know where to begin or even how to explain what happened at the restaurant. My eyes narrow on the fading sun, a symbol of time running out. The day is done, and I don’t know why I thought I could have a second chance at love with a man I’d met less than two weeks ago.

“Did you sleep with him?” Anna softens her voice. I feel her facing me from her position in the chair beside me.

“It’s been three years,” I whisper, lowering my head and staring down at my fingers in my lap. “Three long, lonely years.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Anna nod in understanding.

“I didn’t want it to happen.” But that doesn’t feel like the truth. I did want Archer. “I hadn’t planned on it happening.”

Anna remains silent.

“He was the first man since Ryan.” I twist my neck, facing her. She’ll understand what I say next. “It’s been so hard to open up to someone else, to let anyone new in.”

Her eyes well with tears, and I shrug, dismissing my behavior. My lips tremble and hurt stabs at my chest. “Maybe he’s just not out of my system yet.” Ryan. My defense is weak as I did give in to the temptation of Archer. It felt like it was time. I felt safe with him.

Maybe you could be my home.

Dammit. Why had I wanted such a thing? Why did I think Archer meant it?

What is fake feels real. It can get confusing.