Page 89 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
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.
Piper’s eyes blink open, and she stares up at me for half a second before bolting up herself.
“What happened?” she asks, wiping at her mouth while moving away from me.
“I was wondering that myself,” Frankie says with a smile.
“Nothing happened.” I glare at my twin. “We were working and fell asleep.”
“Were you working on your proposal?” Frankie asks me, nodding toward the laptop.
“Yeah.”
“Does that mean you’re staying in LA, and you and Piper are working together?” Frankie’s eyebrows creep up.
“I’m staying. Still working on the details of what Bombora looks like.” I scrape my hand through my hair. Before I can drop it, Frankie’s bent over me in a hug.
“Good on ya’, Archie. I’m so proud of you.” She tousles my hair as she straightens. “Let’s celebrate and catch some waves.” Frankie waves her head toward the back door and the ocean beyond it.
