Page 98 of The Sounds of Her
Keeping my eyes averted, I move to the bedroom door. “I need a drink,” I mumble, loud enough for her to hear.
I don’t know if she is going to follow me.
A part of me I’ve tried to push down for far too long, needs her to.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I stare at the empty doorway. What the hell just happened? One minute we’re laughing and joking and the next he’s stumbling out of here. Is this about the woman? I get out of bed, sweeping Archer’s t-shirt up from the floor.
He’s at the counter by the mini bar, filling up a glass. The only light in the room is coming from the city outside the window, and the bedroom behind me.
This isn’t the man the world sees. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and maybe I’m not the right person to tease it out of him, but Archer is hurting and not dealing with it.
For the past week, he has been there for me, listened to my problems and helped with the shit I’m going through. He’s also made me laugh. For the first time in a long time, I’ve enjoyed spending time with a man. It isn’t about sex, that came after, but things with Archer are different.
His back straightens, sensing I’m behind him. He turns, his eyes raking over me.
“You look good in my clothes.”
My shoulder presses into the wall I’m leaning against as I watch him. Not even the sight of him in his underwear can distract me. He absently scratches his chest and finishes his drink.
“Want one?”
I shake my head but move across the room so I’m standing in front of him. He lets me take the empty glass and set it down behind him. I doubt it’s took the edge off.
“It’s just us,” I touch his cheek.
“You still see me?” he says wryly.
“Yes.”
Archer reaches up and takes my hand. For a moment, I think he is going to push me away, but he pulls me into him. His kiss isn’t like anything we’ve shared before. There is pain in it, need, and not sexual desire. It’s like he is taking something from me.
Something I’m more than willing to give.
He nips my bottom lip, brushing our lips together a couple more times, then presses his forehead against mine, his eyes fixed on the floor between us.
He takes some deep breaths before he talks. “The woman I was sleeping with…”
He puts his hands on my hips, and I clutch his elbows, the hot skin of his forehead still pressed against mine.
“I got her pregnant.”
My breath catches and he pulls back. Our faces are close and cast in shadow, it’s hard to see his eyes, but I feel how he is looking at me. I’m not sure what to say. Not that I have the right to say anything, but my stomach drops.
He’s having a baby with someone else? How could he not tell me this? This is huge.
“She told me by text, when we were out on the road.”
He takes a step back, but he can’t go far because the counter is behind him. He lets his weight rest on it as he huffs out a sad laugh, looking towards the window. The light hits one side of his face, sharpening his features.
“What are you going to do?” I ask quietly. “This changes things for us.”
“Is there an us?” he looks up at me.
My mouth opens and closes. I don’t know what to say to that. There isn’t supposed to be an us. But if that is the case, why does hearing this feel like my heart is being torn out? Having a baby with another woman changes everything.
“What if it leaks that you’re having a baby with someone else?” I take a step back. I haven’t answered his question. He doesn’t seem surprised.