Page 68 of Loving at 40

“I’m going to throw up.” The overwhelming sensation of nausea drives me upward from my seat, and I disappear around the side of River and Zack’s house. I brace my hand on the siding as I bend over and heave in the dark. My throat clogs. My stomach turns. But nothing happens. I’d only had wine earlier, which is now sour in my throat.

A hand comes to my lower back. “We’ll move you into the house tonight.” Anna’s reassuring voice does nothing to soothe the ache in my chest or the hole in the pit of my belly. As for my heart, it’s obliterated. I’m suddenly trembling, cold to the bone despite the heat of the night.

“I need a shower,” I say to her, and her brows pinch. Instantly I recall nights like this back in the day, as people say. College nights drinking too much. Regrets for messing around with a guy. Time and hearts wasted on the wrong person.

Anna nods. “Mason’s going to move the girls. I’ll help you pack up your stuff.”

In a blink, I’m where I should have been from the start—inside Anna’s home.

Not Archer’s apartment. Not Archer’s bed. Not Archer’s arms.

I didn’t have to worry about being in Archer’s heart.

26

[Jenna]

Mason has moved my girls, and I’ve settled into a room inside the main house with our things when Anna’s son Calvin comes to my room.

“Hey . . . uhm . . . this arrived while you guys were all at Zack’s place. I didn’t think it was important enough to rush over there, but . . . well, here.” He holds out an envelope with a return address for Driftwood.

Great, I’ve been stiffed for the restaurant bill now—for the meal we hadn’t eaten—although I don’t know how the restaurant found me, but the envelope has my name on it.

Jenna.

A single word.

“Thanks,” I mutter, staring down at the envelope and taking it from his hands to find it weighty and lumpy, like more than a sheet of paper is inside. “How did this get here?”

“Tracy, a girl I went to high school with, brought it by. She’s the hostess at Driftwood. She recognized the address as mine.” Calvin sheepishly glances down at the floor. He looks exactly like Anna with dark hair and dark eyes, and looking at him gives me a glimpse of what Archer might have looked like as a teenager on the cusp of manhood. I would have had a crush on him then, and he’d have broken my heart as he has now.

“Okay, well, thanks, Calvin.”

Slowly, he looks up at me. “I’m sorry Uncle Archer is gone. I guess it’s what we expected of him.” He glances down the hall as he stands just outside my bedroom door.

“You didn’t want to expect more of him?”

Calvin scratches the back of his neck. “He made promises that he was sticking around, and he’d get me into the police academy, but yeah, I should have known better. Mom says he’s not dependable.”

I firmly believe teens can decide their own minds about people. They have the free will to make their own decisions. However, that doesn’t mean they always make smart choices. Even adults don’t always make the best ones. Still, I ask, “And what did you think after spending some time with him?”

“He seemed like a good guy. Genuine even.” Calvin pauses. “But maybe he was just a good actor.”

My heart, which is already in pieces, scatters into infinite dust.

“Yeah, a good actor,” I mumble, realizing I’m clutching the envelope to my chest.

“Well, good night.”

“Good night, honey.” I close the door. Crossing the room, which has a view of the patio and the lake, I sit on the edge of the bed and open the envelope under the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Turning the envelope upside down, a silver chain with a heavy medallion falls into my hand.

What the frick?

I stare down at Archer’s St. Michael medal in my palm. The inverted sword shaped like a cross and the spread wings along the crossbar.

I might not be able to say where I’m going, but it’s for your safety.