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“Archer said you guys had a smooth flight last night. I’m glad to hear that. We decided to stay here in the Hamptons for a couple more days. And by we, I mean Beck insisted on getting me alone to celebrate us having a baby.”
She giggles, and I roll my eyes until the first half of her sentence registers. “Wait, you talked to Archer?”
Margo’s quiet on the other end of the call for a moment. She whispers something to someone, making it obvious that Beck has been listening to this entire call. I should’ve known. They’re attached at the hip most days.
“Briefly,” Margo begins, her tone suspiciously higher. “He called Beck late last night just to say you guys made it back and to thank us for the weekend.Supercasual.”
I frown because Margo is a terrible liar, and something in her tone tells me she’s keeping something from me. I turn around, my lips pursed deep in thought when a figure steps in the doorway of the bedroom.
The scream that leaves my body is loud and completely dramatic, considering it’s Archer’s chestnut-brown eyes that meet mine. It takes me a second to register it’s him. He avoided work all weekend to spend it with me, so I expected him home late tonight, not in the middle of the afternoon.
“Are you okay?” Margo asks, worried.
Archer closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around my waist. I notice the deep frown on his face immediately.
“Yes.” I take a breath. “Speaking of Archer, he just got home, and I wasn’t expecting him, so he startled me.”
Margo lets out a relieved sigh. “Oh my god, I thought I was going to have to fly there and kick some ass. You scared me, Win!”
“Sorry,” I mutter, my eyes roaming over Archer’s face to try and figure out what’s wrong and why he’s here. “I’ll call you back later, Mar.”
“Love you!” she responds.
I hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed. My shoulders shake with another calming breath as I try to breathe through the rush of adrenaline. “Hi.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t fully smile. “Hey,” he responds.
“I wasn’t expecting you until dinner. Maybe even after dinner.” I lift up on my tiptoes, placing a kiss to his cheek. He closes his eyes the moment my lips hit his skin, like he’s savoring the feel of it.
“I need to talk to you.” My heart begins to hammer in my chest at the deep intensity of his voice. It’s weird how well I know the man in my arms. He doesn’t have to really say anything at all for me to know something’s wrong.
Apparently, my feelings for him are far deeper than I thought because the thought of something upsetting him makes me upset, too.
“Okay,” I whisper, my eyes searching his face for answers.
Suddenly, his lips are pressing to mine, and he’s kissing me in a way that terrifies me. He’s kissing me in a way that makes it seem like he’s losing me, and I have no idea why.
I kiss him back, too lost in my worry to stop anything. I try to put everything into it so he knows that whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. He’s the first to break the kiss. He pulls away but still keeps his hands around my waist.
“Before we talk, I wanted to take you somewhere.”
“Right now?” I look down at my outfit. I hadn’t planned on going anywhere today, so I stole some of his clothes because they smelled like him and they’re comfortable. The pantsare too long and too baggy, but I’ve rolled them at the waistband to try and make it work. The sweatshirt hides my body entirely, but I’ve been surrounded by his rich, spicy scent all day, and it’s been worth it.
“If you’re okay with that.” I hate how tight his voice sounds, like it’s filled with worry and regret.
“Should I be nervous?” I blurt out as he leads me downstairs. I wish he’d give me some sort of hint of what’s on his mind, but he’s eerily quiet.
When we were first married, I got used to his silence. I knew it was his thing to be quiet and think thoughtfully about things. But since things changed between us, he’s always told me what’s going on in his head. He hasn’t hidden things from me, but right now, it feels like he’s hiding something.
We stop in the entryway. He hands me my shoes, gesturing for me to sit on the bench as he slides each one of my boots on. He looks at me from the ground, the position reminding me of the weekend when he knelt between my legs.
“It isn’t you that should be nervous. It’s me,” he finally answers.
I think his answer makes me feel even worse. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
He looks up, resting his hands on the tops of my thighs. For a moment, we just look at each other. I try to figure out what’s going through his mind as his eyes scan my face like he’s trying to commit every inch of it to memory.
“Ready?” he finally asks, standing up and reaching out his hand. I take it, letting him lead me to the waiting car.
