Page 189 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Piper sets her stuff on the opposite end of the table from me, then slides into the seat and smiles.
I smile back and lift my cup. “Thanks for this. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to make this proposal presentable for potential investors.”
She looks surprised. “You’ve written off your dad?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’ll send it to him too, just in case. Who knows? He may be blown away and decide to let me use my money the way I want.”
Piper doesn’t look convinced. I don’t blame her. I’m not either.
“I’m not getting my hopes up, but I have to try every avenue.”
She watches as I sip my coffee. When I set my cup down, she asks, “You sure you want to risk the rejection, even if you’re prepared for it?”
I shift my gaze from her to my open laptop and the PowerPoint I’ve started. “Yeah, nah. But I’ve gotta do my part to keep the door open between Dad and me.”
Piper rests her elbows on the table and leans forward. “Archie, you’re not the one threatening to cut off the relationship. That’s Malcolm. Don’t forget that. His choices aren’t yours, even if you’re the one who suffers the consequences of them.”
I chew the side of my lip and think about what she’s said. I’m not responsible for Dad’s choices. There’s a weight lifted from that bittersweet realization. I huff a laugh. “Have you always been this smart, and I was I just too dumb to see it?”
“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” she says with a smirk.
“No.” I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off Piper.
She doesn’t look away either. A subtle, but irresistible pull threatens to draw us together again, and it takes all my strength to not forget everything I’ve told her and myself about building a foundation, taking things slow…all that crap I’m thinking twice about now.
But Piper drops her gaze and sets me free. “We should get back to work.”
I clear my throat and nod.
For the next hour or so, we occasionally ask how the other is doing, but for the most part, the only sound is tapping. Me on my laptop, her with her stylus on her iPad. But as the time grows later, yawning accompanies our tapping.
After a loud yawn, Piper shifts and stretches in her seat. “I need to switch things up. I’m going to move to the sofa.”
“Good idea,” I say around my own yawn.
We both carry our stuff to the couch, being careful not to sit too close together. Piper takes one end, and I take the middle V where the two sections meet. I could choose the opposite end—the furthest corner from her—but I don’t want to be that far away. Not kissing her is torture enough. I need to at least be near her.
It’s not long before I notice Piper’s head dipping, then jerking back up when she realizes she’s falling asleep. She does this for about half an hour until, instead of jerking back up, her head tilts to the side, and her eyes stay closed. The stylus rolls from her fingers to the floor.
I shift my laptop to the couch, then slide the iPad from her hands and her glasses from her nose before gently lowering her head to a throw pillow.
I could carry her upstairs, to her own bed, but I like Piper next to me. So, after covering her with a blanket, I sink into the spot next to her, tucking my thigh partially under the pillow cradling her head. Her hair spills across her cheek. I brush it to the side and tuck it behind her ear. Trace my finger across her profile. Count the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
I breathe Piper in, pinning this memory and her citrus-y scent next to the one of picking oranges and lemons with Mom.Whatever happens next, I don’t want to forget this moment or the way I feel in it.
With a sigh, I pull my laptop to my legs and go back to my PowerPoint.
The next thing I know, someone is shaking me and saying my name. I open my eyes to Frankie’s face in front of me.
“Did you sleep down here all night?” she whispers.
I blink and drop my eyes to my hand and whatever I’m holding.
It’s Piper. I’m holding Piper.
Her hand, anyway.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep. I vaguely remember Piper rolling over and shifting enough that her head ended up in my lap, forehead pressed against my stomach. I don’t know when I slipped to the side, so my head is nearly in her lap, or how I ended up with my hand curled around the tips of her fingers, but I bolt up when I realize the compromising position we’re in.
