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Chapter Twenty-Five
“I shave only on holidays. Easter, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and anytime Chris wears a suit.” – April
VIVIANA
I have shaved everything.
Like, legitimately, everything.
I was more than ready for Archer to get here all ready to start the date, because in the meantime I was pacing my apartment, looking for things that were out of place. Everything was put away—minus the corner in my office that I didn’t touch, everyone had one spot that was junked up, and that was mine. Therefore, it was still a mess.
Last night after our little make-out session in the kitchen—like holy crap, I made out with Archer in my brother’s kitchen!—we’d gone back into the living room and acted like everything was normal.
April was too far gone to notice anything, but Jane, the sensible friend who rarely drank at all, was completely aware of what had transpired in the kitchen.
She just knew.
But she didn’t have a chance to corner me and get any answers and gave me a wink instead, which I guess was approval? It was nice to have her support.
Yes, I garnered all of that from a wink, and I suspected that the next girls’ night was going to be full of questions for me.
A knock on the door pulls me from my musing thoughts and I jump, running to the door. I had zero chill, but I really couldn’t care less.
I swing it open, and Archer gives me a broad smile. In one hand are several reusable grocery bags—I’m sure courtesy of my environmentally friendly brother—and in his other hand is a bouquet of flowers. “Wow, that is beautiful.” It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Archer walks through the open doorway and leans down, kissing me lightly on the lips and then handing me the bouquet that’s already set up in a vase.
He marches into the kitchen, completely at ease in my apartment, and I smile at the image.
“That is a specially made bouquet from a new place and I thought you’d like it.”
I glance back at the flowers in my hand and smile. “I love them. Are these asters?”
Archer glances at me and shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
I look at them again and smirk, “They are. Asters and morning glories. These are my birth month flowers.”
He stops unpacking the bags that he brought and glances up at me. “Huh. Maybe that’s why he asked what month you were born.”
“Archer.” I set the vase down carefully on the counter and look between him and the flowers. “These couldn’t have been cheap.”
He gives me a smile. “They were on sale,” he lies and I let it drop. No reason to ruin a perfectly nice gesture by bringing up money.
I watch Archer over the next hour, making dinner. I offer to help, but he’s insistent that he do it for me. I don’t mind, I never caught the cooking bug like my brother, but I could make a few things.
Archer tells me stories from work and we talk about the good times we had in the past. I missed having these times with just the two of us hanging out.
My fault, I knew, but I was hoping to just keep moving forward.
Archer puts me completely at ease, I drink a glass of wine that he provides and watch with rapt fascination as he moves around the kitchen like he’s done it a million times. A niggling thought in the back of my mind has me wondering how many women he’s done this whole show for, but I shove it away.
No bad thoughts.
“Oh, by the way,” he starts as he plates the spaghetti alla carbonara. “Next weekend there’s aStar Warsmovie marathon in the park. I thought it would be fun to go.”
I smile at his question. “Not even through the first date and already planning the second.”
At least, I was pretty certain this was a date. It felt a helluva lot like one.
