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“No?” His eyebrows lift.
I offer a meek shrug with one shoulder and lie again as I try to make myself believe it. “I would be fine with you taking time to yourself.”
He sighs at the night sky. Nods once to whatever god is up there, and then says, “All right. I’ll walk you up.”
His hand pressed into the small of my back, we start in the direction of my townhouse.
Shit.
I have a terrible feeling I’ve hurt him. I pause at the foot of the steps leading to my front door. The door I no longer want to walk through. “I might…” I trail off before having to gather the courage to start again. “I might be disappointed if you were in a hurry to escape me.”
“Do you want to escape me?”
“No. I don’t know. I’m just…overwhelmed. My business is new, and I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Calista is paying for the apartment by herself, and I feel so guilty. I tried sending her money, but the payment still says ‘pending.’ She’s not making it easy for me to assuage my guilt.” Before he can say he sympathizes with the idea of a woman making life difficult, I continue. “And my father is on medication. I’ve called him a few times this week, but he’s been busy with work and couldn’t talk. When I’m home I can check on him. When I’m not—” I shrug. At a loss, and not entirely sure what point I’m trying to make.
“You can talk to me about this shit, Talia,” he growls, his eyebrows a pair of angry slashes. “How long have you been holding this in?”
“I’m not holding it in. I’m just—” I lift and drop my arm. “I’m tired.”
“I can help with the business questions. So can Vivian. So can Cris. You can lean on the people around you, you know.”
Why does that sound nice and alarming at the same time?
“If you want to fly home to see Papa Richards, I’ll book a jet.”
I’m already shaking my head. “The spa…”
“You need time with your family, take it. You’re not being held captive here.” He pushes my hair off from my forehead, the tip of his finger tracing my eyebrow. “Much as I’d like to hold on to you indefinitely.”
My heart crushes like an empty aluminum can. That was sweet.
“I’m sure Papa’s fine. I’m just worrying. Thank you. For listening.” I scrub my forehead with my fingers, starting to catch a chill from the breeze, or maybe my own oddly icy demeanor. I’m not entirely sure what caused my epic freak-out. Too many cocktails? Sex that should have been dismissed as dirty, but seemed to mean so much more? Archer reminding me I’m a special part of his life?
All of the above, I answer myself.
“Want me to tuck you in?”
He’s too much. How can I say no? Resisting him has proven futile for a while now. I’m not sure if drawing a flimsy boundary around not staying in his bed with him is going to help or hurt matters at this point.
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my breasts to his chest. “You do have a nicer shower than mine. Am I still invited?”
“You’re still invited.” He kisses my nose. Takes my hand. We walk back to his townhouse. He angles me with a look before opening the door for me. “In the meantime, you need to be careful.”
I turn and face him. I’m inside his townhouse, he’s outside, just over the threshold. “Careful about what?”
“Careful not to make yourself unforgettable if you’re hoping I’ll forget you in the end.” He steps inside and shuts the door. “I’ll start the shower.”
He walks away. I stand frozen in the foyer.
I wonder if he’s as afraid of needing me as I am of needing him.
