Page 78 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Archie wouldn’t take something that’s not his. He’s not like the people who’ve used me, or dismissed me, or stripped me of credit and called it mentorship. He’s stubborn and messy and occasionally infuriating, but he’s also kind. Loyal. Protective in a way that feels safe, not suffocating.
And as I study him now—concentrating on what he’s cooking like the fate of the world rests on getting it right—I feel it. The slow, certain unraveling of all the reasons I thought I couldn’t care about him.
Because maybe I already do.
Chapter 27
Archie
Piper dices the other half of the onion while I lean against the counter behind her, encouraging her while not looking at the onion once. My eyes are glued to her bare shoulders. The vibrant blue color of her top against her tan skin reminds me of my favorite beach in Aus where the cobalt water laps the dark sand. The idea of tracing my finger over the thin tan line cupping Piper’s collar bone makes me clutch the counter tighter. That faint line of ivory contrasted against her sun-bronzed skin is as tempting to touch as her mouth when she sends her tongue across her lips.
“Did I do this right?” She asks over the shoulder I’m staring at, and I’m tempted to tell her no so I can demonstrate again.
I nod instead, take the knife from her and use it to scrape the onions into a bowl while I tip the cutting board. “Want to try the corn next?”
She nods without moving her arm that’s touching mine. I hand her the tongs to take the corn from the grill. Her fingers brush mine as she takes them, and it doesn’t feel like an accident.
I help Piper cut the kernels from the corn, my arms around her again. When she leans into me, I linger in her scent andtouch longer than necessary. Every brush of skin, every breath we share, is intentional. We both want this closeness.
Fortunately, this meal requires a lot of chopping, and as smart as Piper is, she is suspiciously slow at learning how to use knives. Which means I take my time giving her hands-on demonstrations on how to curl her fingers around the knife and how to use the tips of her fingers to hold what she’s cutting.
I’m forced to let her finish on her own when the buzzer I’ve set for the fish dings. I take it from the pan and set it on plates. I’m so anxious to be within touching distance again that I nearly drop one filet on the floor.
“Where did you learn how to do this without following a recipe?” She asks while combining the tomatoes and avocado we’ve chopped with the onion and corn.
“Fish and fresh veggies was a staple of Dex’s diet when he was in competition, so I’ve made some variation of this a million times.” I squeeze lime over the mix. “And I’m not much good at following directions, so I make up my own recipes as I go.”
“I wouldn’t call that not being good at following directions. I’d call it using your creativity.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Everything okay?”
Piper nods, but her smile falters. When she tries to replace it with an even more forced smile, she can’t. “I’m sorry. It’s been kind of a rough day, and I didn’t expect to come home to…this.” She spreads her arms wide and gestures toward the meal we’ve made together, and tears pool in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says again, and her voice cracks. “I’m going to try calling Mom. I’ll be right back.”
She darts from the kitchen before I can ask why her day was a rough one. I have an uncontrollable urge to fix whatever’s wrong, but since I don’t have any idea what that is, I’m more frustrated than anything.
I plate the food and try to make it look nice but only get it looking half decent. Dex never cared how his food looked, just how it tasted. I take off the apron and realize I’m not wearing a shirt. And while my bare chest is the one thing about me that’s never seemed to bother Piper, I reckon I should put on a shirt for dinner with the woman I can’t stop thinking about and don’t want to keep my hands off.
I wrap the food to keep it warm, then run upstairs to put on real clothes. I don’t know how long she’ll be talking to her mum, but likely not long enough for me to chuck the fantasy of my fingertips discovering the softness of her skin. When I walk back into the kitchen, she’s already there.
“Did you talk to your mum?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and I’m about to ask why her day was rough when she says, “You dressed up. I should have changed into something nicer.”
I smooth my hands over my custom-tailored dress shirt that suddenly feels too tight. “I’m overdressed. You can have a turn at being underdressed for once. Wine with dinner?” Without waiting for an answer, I walk to the wine fridge. I definitely need something to settle my nerves.
While Piper takes a seat at the table, I pour us some wine and serve our plated food. Then I sit across from her, still burning to have her in my arms again.
We make small talk as we eat our dinner, and Piper comments more than once on how delicious the food is. But something’s got her down, and I reckon she might feel better talking through her day instead of just complimenting my cooking skills.
When we’re close to our last few bites, I take a chance she’ll share more than a meal with me. “You wanna talk about why your day was rough?”
“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” She shakes her head, but I hear the tears at the edge of her throat.
“It’s not fine, Piper. I can tell something’s eatin’ at you. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready, but…I’ve done plenty of talking lately. Wouldn’t mind listenin’ to you for a bit.”
That pulls a genuine smile from her.
“The fact you’ve made me dinner and are willing to listen is enough,” she says, her voice cracking a bit. “There’s really nothing more you can do than that, Archie.”
