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Wilson sat forward, the heels of his loafers hitting the floor with a thump.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I hope not.”
Mr. Truitt pushed off the desk and sat in the chair next to me. He rarely showed this much sincerity when discussing personal lives. Mr. Truitt lived for business—except when he was having fun. But then he had people like me and Wilson in place so he could jet to any golf course in the world.
“Archer,” he said with that rare fatherly tone he used with me. “Don’t you think that if staying together was the right thing to do, it wouldn’t be this difficult? You were gone for weeks.”
Three. I’d been gone for three weeks. Who was to say how long we needed to work on our marriage?
Weary, I pulled out my tablet. “All I know is she’s important to me, and I can’t just go on with my life. There are a lot of options these days.” I’d had nearly twenty hours of travel to think about them.
Bismarck offered straight flights to Dallas. I’d been working remotely for three weeks. I had to visit sites, and I had to meet clients, but with a little planning, there was no reason I couldn’t do both. Compelling enough to pack the annulment papers with me instead of leaving them behind for Delaney to sign.
But I was wise enough to know I couldn’t bring up those details until I made partner. Mr. Truitt was old-fashioned, and Delaney had accurately determined that he was controlling. Change upset him. It was why his own son put him on edge.
I flipped open the tablet, where it was faster to pull up the documents from our cloud account. “I’ve compiled quite a bit of history and current information for the Maliks about Sheridan Nine. I’ll gather more before we bring them into the office tomorrow.”
For all the rush back, Rogers Malik hadn’t been able to come in from Houston until late afternoon tomorrow. I tried not to think about the extra day I could’ve had with my wife.
Mr. Truitt didn’t look at the tablet. He watched me, that shrewdness back in place. I countered it with a calm persona. I already had all the proof that I was partner material for NT Land Agency. It was in my work history and in the tablet I held. Sheridan Nine would be the clincher.
I wasn’t sure what went through Mr. Truitt’s mind when he accepted the tablet, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
* * *
Laney
“Laney, did you hear me?”
Kennedy sat across from me in a booth at Rattler’s. I was busted staring out the window. Archer had left two days ago, and I’d been about as worthwhile as a water tank full of holes. When a new laptop had been delivered earlier today, I’d stared at it on the porch for fifteen minutes.
The concern in Kennedy’s doe-brown gaze made hot tears prick the backs of my eyelids. “I’m sorry. I missed it.”
I’d called her the day after Archer left. When I’d cried myself out and then cried some more. I’d lain in that bed until housekeeping knocked on the door.
He hadn’t left a note. He hadn’t called or messaged. I’d heard nothing from him. Had he really told me not to give up on us?
It all had seemed like an illusion that had grown stronger when the parking space in front of the door was empty. No charcoal-gray Audi.
Did he make it back okay?
He was probably at work today. It took two solid days of driving, longer with traffic and added stops.
What was I thinking? He was probably in the office, looking stupid hot in a gray suit with matching tie and a dress shirt that would hide his farmer’s tan. He’d probably even stopped to get his hair trimmed. It was what Mr. Truitt would do.
I glowered at my water. I hadn’t dared to drink. There wasn’t enough White Claw on the planet to drown the memory of Archer, but I might be tempted to try.
Kennedy was worried about me. I’d heard it in her voice when she’d invited me out tonight. I suspected Kane had called her and asked her to check in. If I was this pathetic after a few days without him, how was I going to last the month? The year?
At what point would I give up? Or was I doing shitty because I had given up? What if he gave up and moved on and I was here heartbroken? My mind circled back to one more detail.
“He took the annulment papers,” I blurted.
Kennedy nodded because she’d heard me say it before—at least two other times.
I stirred the ice in my glass with the straw. “Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I don’t know. I do think he loves you though.”
