Page 86 of Loving at 40

I remember everything.

Archer had me so twisted, and the remainder of the week passed in a blur. He helped out with the girls, making three meals a day, taking Talia to school, and doing my laundry. He was a dream, but I was waiting to wake up to find him walking away. He never did answer my question about when he was heading out on his next job, and I didn’t bring it up again. After a long day of teaching, I was tired, and the winter months wreaked havoc on my emotions. I was like a bear, needing to hibernate yet anxious for spring. I didn’t want to fight with Archer. I wanted to just be.

“He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.” Mason eyes me over the console in his car before taking a left onto the highway.

“I hadn’t exactly mentioned you.” Archer wasn’t wrong. I never said yes to Mason asking me out when we’d run into one another in the area, but when I saw Four Points as a contributor to an item in the silent auction, I decided to reach out and see if Mason would like to attend the function with me. After Archer’s disappearance, he’d decided once again to stay behind at Lakeside Cottage. He was worried about the safety of Anna and the kids, but he’d been back to business as usual as time passed, and Archer’s silence continued.

“Well, you know I’m a sure bet,” he teases as we pull off the highway onto the road leading to the restaurant.

“Mason,” I groan. “We all know you love Anna.”

“What?” he chokes, hitting the brakes a little too hard as he slows to pull into the parking lot.

“Everyone knows you love Anna,” I repeat, reaching out for the dash to brace myself against another sudden jolt. Mason pulls into a parking spot, cuts the ignition, and twists to face me.

“I’m not in love with Anna.”

“How’s that lying to yourself working out for you?”

His eyes squint toward the dark cherry orchard beyond the restored old barn, answering my question with one of his own. “How do you know?”

“It’s in everything you do for her. You stayed when Ben was sick, and you stayed after his death.”

“Maybe I did those things for Ben.”

When I don’t comment, Mason looks back at me. I tilt my head, giving him my best mom glare. The one that says—tell the truth.

“You shouldn’t covet your best friend’s wife, right?” He swallows hard around his guilt, glancing down at the console between us.

“Written in the commandments,” I tease. “But when the best friend isn’t there anymore, and she’s lonely . . .”

“I might be easy,” Mason says, glancing back up at me with fire in his bright eyes, “but my heart isn’t stupid.” On that note, he pops open his door, and I reach for the handle on mine. Before I fully have it open, he’s present and helping me stand from the low seat. My heart aches a little for him. He’s always been a player, and I don’t understand his situation as a dad, but he’s a good man deep down inside. Case in point is the donation to the high school fundraiser and being my date for one night.

We enter the old barn converted to event space, filled with rustic chairs and packed with white linen-covered tables. This place once held a Halloween party hosted by Tricia’s older brother and his wife, but eventually, the wife’s youngest brother took over this sliver of family property and turned it into this well-sought event space. The Scott family has generously donated the barn tonight to the school district’s fundraising effort. It’s a bit of a dance to avoid parents who all want to discuss their child when they couldn’t find time to attend the parent-teacher conferences a week ago, but Mason and I finally make our way to the corner where the teacher tables are sequestered. I don’t miss the questioning gazes of my lunchtime colleagues, wondering who the tall drink of water is, compared to Diet Coke commercial man who brought me lunch earlier this week. Bombarded with questions after Archer’s appearance, I answered with deliberate vagueness. Tricia provided distractions during lunchtimes when the questions grew too much and offered a reprieve during a curriculum meeting when others wanted to analyze my personal life more than student concerns.

The first hour of the fundraiser is for cocktails, and I’m pacing myself when I’d love nothing more than to down an entire bottle of wine. Mason is a source of interest with his fine-tailored suit and artfully curled hair. He’s so good looking it’s a crime, only I’m not looking to commit one with him. My thoughts return to the questions in Archer’s eyes before he stormed out of my place, and I try to dismiss the idea he might be gone for good.

A call to dinner comes, asking people to take their seats, and Mason holds out my chair for me. As I’m lowering to the seat, a firm, rough voice washes over the table. “Sorry I’m late.”

All heads turn to find Archer standing beside the table, hand on the seat next to mine, and pulling it out. He doesn’t even spare Mason a glance before lowering into the chair and scooting it forward.

My mouth falls open, and it’s not just the audacity of his intrusion. It’s the dark suit he wears making him look like he stepped off a mafia romance cover. The bright white shirt underneath the fitted black suit coat contrasts with his slightly tan skin, and my mouth waters. Where the frickity did that outfit come from?

“What the . . .?” someone growls across the table, and I turn to find Leon Ramirez, Tricia’s husband, glaring at Archer. “You,” he growls.

Spinning from my friend’s husband to the man taking up space next to me, I ask, “Do you know one another?”

“We’ve met,” Leon grunts, tipping up his chin.

“We have?” Archer questions, narrowing his eyes at Leon.

“Never forget a face.”

Suddenly, I’m wondering how these two are connected. Leon Ramirez was in a gang more than a decade ago, and he’s done time in jail. Tricia told me these things in confidence, and the knowledge has me wondering if there’s some connection with Archer and his line of work. Was Archer involved in Leon’s gang somehow? Did Leon deal drugs? The Quinteros were involved in that.

My head twists from one man to another.

“You still a cop?” Leon snaps.